Show Time (Juniper Ridge Romantic Comedies Book 1)

by Tawna Fenske

  I should ask him to go. I should beg him to stay.

  I should definitely stop thinking about kissing him.

  “Have you had dinner?” I blurt the question without thinking.

  “A cup of coffee.” He makes a face. “I need to do better about eating real meals, but I’ve been busy.”

  “Stay.” Where the hell did that come from? “I mean, I’m not much of a cook, but I can grill burgers. I grabbed frozen patties the other day, and some buns.”

  “Hamburgers?” The excitement he infuses into those three syllables is enough to make me laugh.

  “That’s the plan.” I tug my dog’s leash, trying to lead him back around the other side of the tree. “Pretty sure I have some cheddar if you want to make it a cheeseburger. I can’t promise I’ve got your favorite condoms, but there’s ketchup and mustard and—”

  “What?”

  I stop talking, registering the odd look on Dean’s face. “What do you mean?”

  “My favorite condoms?” He leans back against the porch railing, eyes flashing with amusement. “Glad to know I’m not the only one with illicit thoughts on the brain.”

  My cheeks flush with heat. “I did not say that.” Only I’m pretty sure I did. “That’s not what I meant, anyway.”

  “Okay,” he says, still grinning. “I’d love burgers. With or without the condoms.”

  Kill me now. “Come on,” I tell him. “I’ll get the grill fired up, and we can see what I’ve got for sides.”

  “I make a mean macaroni salad.” He pushes off the railing and follows me into the house. “That’s assuming you’ve got the ingredients.”

  “You can make macaroni salad, but not coffee?”

  “I’m a man of varied talents.”

  “I believe it.” And right now, I can’t stop thinking about one in particular. I blame it on being back on the deck where we kissed before, so things should be better in the house. More neutral.

  I lead the way into the kitchen, trying to recall everything I grabbed at the store the other day. “I definitely have macaroni,” I tell him. “And mayonnaise. What else do you need?”

  He moves to my sink and starts washing his hands. “Onion would be good. Celery if you have it, plus whatever spices you have lying around.”

  I unclip Roughneck’s leash and sweep a hand toward the bank of cupboards behind him. “Go ahead and paw through my panties and—” Oh, shit. I did it again. “My pantry. That’s where my spices are. The pantry right behind you.”

  Dean busts out laughing. “I love where your mind goes.”

  “Pantry.” I repeat feebly, closing my eyes against a wave of embarrassment. “Goddammit, Dean Judson.”

  He laughs and catches me by the elbows before I can go hide behind my couch. “I learned something new from Mari,” he says. “Want to hear about it?”

  “Maybe.” I crack one eyelid to peer up at him. “Is it about my deep-seated sexual frustration?”

  “Not specifically, but let’s put a pin in that.”

  “God.” I hate myself sometimes. “What did Mari tell you?”

  “She read this study about exes trying to get over each other by having sex.”

  Jealousy pinches the edges of my heart as I fight to keep my expression flat. “Did you—are you wanting to—” This is not coming out right. I’m distracted by his palms cupping my arms, by the warmth of his breath ruffling my hair. “You’re talking about having sex with Andrea Knight?”

  “What? God, no!” He shudders exactly like I did when I spotted the snake. “I’m talking about the science of getting over someone. Kissing to get it out of our system or whatever. Mari says it’s a legit thing.”

  I’m not sure where to start with that. My heart’s hammering in my ears, and have I mentioned he’s still touching me?

  Get it together, Vanessa.

  I swallow hard and order myself to focus. “You told your sister we kissed?”

  “Not exactly.” He sighs. “Lauren and Lana saw us the other night.”

  “On the back deck?”

  “Actually, they didn’t see us.” He grimaces. “I only thought they saw us and I confessed the whole thing because I’m a huge dumbass.”

  I laugh, delight swirling through me to mix with the arousal. He smells so amazing, that grassy-good Dean smell, clean and woodsy. Is this affecting him like it’s getting to me?

  His pupils are wide, black pools in oceans of glittering hazel. A sign he’s turned on, or is it just really dim in here? I can’t control my breathing. It’s like I’m running a marathon, only instead of a marathon, I’m naked and Dean’s naked and we’re pressed up against each other in bed.

  What were we talking about again?

  “So this study,” I press, struggling to stay focused. “It seriously found that physical intimacy is a good way to get over someone?”

  “I might be paraphrasing,” he admits, color seeping under through his stubbled cheeks and jaw. “Reading something into it based on what I wanted to hear.”

  “Which is what?” I need to hear him say it. I need to know we’re on the same page.

  Dean smiles into my eyes. “I want you, Vanessa. And maybe I’m being presumptuous, but I think you might want me, too.”

  My breath stalls in my chest. This is it. My opportunity to insist we keep things professional. That we not cross this line that can’t be uncrossed.

  But as I look into those flecked hazel eyes, there’s a heat there that flips a switch deep inside me. Lights, camera, action.

  “Yes,” I hear myself breathe. “I want you.”

  “Good.” He smiles. “Now what should we do about it?”

  Chapter 11

  CONFESSIONAL 329.5

  Judson, Dean: (CEO, Juniper Ridge)

  Biggest weakness? Jesus, where do I start? [long pause] Believing what I want to believe, even when I know goddamn well it’s not true. How’s that for fucked up? I’ll know something logically in my brain, but the rest of me gets caught up wanting something different to happen, and it’s like I’ve got blinders on. I don’t know, I guess I’m working on it. Trying to, anyway.

  When I looked deep into Vanessa’s eyes and asked how we should handle the fact that I want her and she wants me, this was not on my list of expected options.

  “A little more salt, you think?” She holds out a spoon dipped in the homemade Caesar dressing she’s been working on for sixteen hours, give or take.

  Maybe not that long. It’s probably been ten minutes, but time crawls for a guy who thinks he has a shot at having sex with the hottest girl he’s ever met.

  But I’m determined to give her time or space or whatever else she needs, so I lick that spoon like a champ. Vanessa’s eyes flicker a little, filling me with hope I’m not the only one whose mind is in the gutter.

  “It’s perfect,” I tell her. “Want to eat?”

  She nods and surveys the spread we’ve laid out on her counter. “Burgers, buns, macaroni salad, green salad.” Glancing back at me, she smiles a bit self-consciously. “And all the condiments of course.”

  “Your attention to detail is impeccable.”

  Still grinning, she thrusts a paper plate into my hands. “Load up. You’re going to need your energy.”

  Wait, what? I don’t ask what she means because I don’t dare hope, but yeah…I’m still optimistic about where this is going.

  We pile food on our plates, brushing elbows like old friends. Only the sparks crackling between us are not remotely friendly, and I wonder if she feels it, too. By the time we’ve settled at her dining room table, I’m pretty sure my skin is on fire.

  “So.” Vanessa clears her throat and spears a leaf of romaine in her salad. “How should we do this?”

  I’ve just shoved Caesar salad in my mouth, and it’s all I can do not to choke on a crouton. “Wait,” I wheeze. “What are we talking about here?”

  “Sex, of course.” She picks up her glass and takes a sip, then holds it up. “This is water, b
y the way. Not wine or beer or anything else that could cloud my judgement.”

  “Way to plan ahead.” I’m still not sure what’s happening here. “Clever forethought.”

  “Or foreplay.” She gives me a sheepish look. “Sorry, is this weird?”

  A little, but no way am I saying that out loud. “Not at all.”

  “It’s just—I’m trying not to leap without looking, you know?”

  “Yeah, of course. It’s smart to talk things through beforehand.” I’m not sure if she’s wanting to talk birth control or hookup spots, but I can roll with it. “Okay, well…how about the bedroom?”

  “Clean sheets, check.” She grins and picks up her burger. “Also, condoms.”

  “Good. Well, that’s good.” Okay, so that’s settled. I’ve never had this sort of pre-hookup communication, and my mind reels with what else to ask. “Any particular kinks I should be aware of?”

  “Not for our first time.” She smiles a little sheepishly as her cheeks color. “I know it’s just a one-night thing, but you can…um…more than once?”

  “No pressure.” I take a sip of beer, wondering if I should stick with water. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can manage.”

  “Excellent.” The grin she gives me shoots straight to my groin. “For the record, I’m generally okay with a little light hair pulling and maybe some dirty talk.”

  “Who’s doing the talking and hair pulling?” We should definitely get this out in the open, and also it’s turning me on. “I’m open to either. Just want to make sure I meet your expectations.”

  Vanessa takes her time chewing a bite of burger before answering. “Let’s play it by ear. How about you? Any particular turn-ons I should know about?”

  You. Everything about you. Your face, your scent, your brains, your smile, the way you eat a hamburger, for crying out loud.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that. All of it, the whole big mess. To tell her everything from the light in her eyes to the way she holds her fork gets me hot, but I need to maintain some kind of control. “Ear nibbling,” I admit. “Also the way you touch my face when we’re kissing.”

  “Oh, yes.” Her eyes flash, and I can tell this is getting to her, too. “I can definitely do that.”

  “Good. Um, right.” I clear my throat, trying to get some blood back into my brain. “All right, anything off-limits?”

  “Being called someone else’s name isn’t awesome.”

  “Of course.” Shit, has that happened to her? “What else?”

  “Let’s see.” She taps her fork with her fingernail, and I wonder if it’s a nervous habit. Like maybe a tell in poker. “I’m not into strangulation or pony play or dressing up in each other’s clothes.”

  “Okay, we’re on the same page there.” I start to pick up my burger again, then stop. “But really, I’m pretty open. If there’s something you want…”

  “You.” She grins and stabs into her salad. “That’s pretty much it. I want you.”

  Electricity zings through me, and I fight to hold it together. “Same. And seriously, if there’s anything special you like, just tell me. Or show me.” Hell, she could ask me to light my hair on fire and say I’m a Roman Candle, and I’d beg for some goddamn matches.

  “Okay, so we’re compatible.” She grins. “How about you? Anything in particular you do or don’t like?”

  I swallow my macaroni salad before answering. “I can’t stand it when people pet my eyebrows backwards.”

  Vanessa bursts out laughing. “This happens to you often?”

  “My sisters used to do it to bug me.” I drop my fork and reach out to trace a thumb over her brow line. “See, it feels nice if someone pets your eyebrow in the direction the hair grows.”

  “Okay, yeah, I get it.” She flushes under my touch, and I love seeing her react.

  I switch directions, stroking my thumb toward the center of her forehead. “But if they go the wrong way—”

  “Stop, no, I get it.” She laughs, swatting my hand away. “Okay, I can promise I won’t pet your eyebrows. Not forward or backward or upside down or any way at all.”

  I grin and draw my hand back, already missing the feel of her. “Just covering all our bases.”

  “Absolutely.” She takes a swallow of water. “Okay, on that note, I’m not a fan of being tied up. I like my hands free for—well, for whatever I might want to touch.”

  Any blood remaining in my brain heads south in a big hurry. “I think I can manage to forego bondage this one time.” I swallow back the urge to grab her right fucking now. “Anything else?”

  “Uh, well, that thing where guys want women to call them ‘daddy’ or baby-talk in bed?” She shrugs. “Not my thing.”

  “Mine, either.” I nod and pick up my burger. “I’m okay with being called Goliath, He-Man, or Waldhar the Wonder Penis Warrior.”

  She bursts into laughter, hair falling over her eyes. “Okay, I’ll take She-ra, Your Majesty, or My-God-You’re-The-Hottest-Woman-On-Earth.”

  “I can manage that.” Without a touch of irony, I might add. “So, uh…do you want to choreograph positions, or are you open for spontaneity there?”

  She’s still smiling, but bright sparks flash in her eyes. It’s clear I’m not the only one who’s aroused by this conversation. “Let’s play it by ear.” She fiddles with the edge of her napkin. “I know this all seems silly, but I like having things out in the open.”

  “Not silly at all.” I take a sip of water. “More couples should probably do this before they start taking off their clothes.”

  She bites her lip. “I’m not ruining the mood?”

  “Honey, I couldn’t be more in the mood if you got naked right now and laid down on my plate.” I move my fork aside. “Here, I’ll make it easy for you.”

  She laughs, but there’s hesitation in her eyes. Something telling me there’s more to this little exercise than titillation or consent. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About running straight from my overbearing mother and into the arms of men who were just as controlling. I’m just—I’m trying not to do that, you know?”

  I nod and slip my hand over hers. “I get it. I do.”

  God knows I’m trying my best not to repeat mistakes I made with Andrea. Pushing my plate aside, I turn to fully face her. “Look, I won’t pretend whatever happens between us—whatever we decide to do—is going to be all stars and rainbows and angels singing on high.”

  She laces her fingers through mine. “Voyeur angels sound creepy anyway.”

  I squeeze her hand, wanting to be sure she hears what I’m saying. “First times can be awkward.” I stop, realizing I’m selling myself short. “Look, I can promise I’ll get you off. How’s that for straightforward?”

  Her throat moves as she swallows. “That’s…um…promising.”

  Maybe I’m being too cocky. I can’t wait to get my hands on her body, but I can do this all night if she needs reassurance. “Whatever you need, Vanessa. If you want to cuddle or make out or—”

  “Let’s do it.” She pushes her plate aside and grins.

  My heart nearly explodes through my chest. “Really?” I let out a slow breath. “You’re sure.”

  “Positive.”

  I stand up so fast I knock over my chair, startling Roughneck from his nap on the sofa. I gather up our plates and rush them to the kitchen counter. When I return to the table, Vanessa’s fiddling with the top button on her blouse. “Are you nervous? Because I’m a little bit nervous, but—”

  I pull her close and kiss her slow and soft and deep. When I draw back, I look right into her eyes. “I’m not nervous. But we can take this as slow as you like.”

  Her eyes flash with hunger. “Not nervous anymore.” She licks her bottom lip. “Kiss me again.”

  So I do, taking it slower this time. As my lips touch hers, I thread my fingers through her hair. It’s unbelievably soft, but no match for her mouth. She moans as my tongue grazes hers, pressing her body against mine. />
  When I draw back this time, we’re both breathless. “Dean,” she breathes. “Take me to bed right now.”

  I don’t need another invitation. I take her hand in mine, thankful I know the floor plans for all the cabins. I make a beeline for her bedroom, fighting to keep myself from sprinting. We’ve got all the time to do this right.

  Roughneck sighs as we pass him on the couch, resting his head on his paws and regarding us with a look of intense boredom.

  There’s a lot I’m feeling right now, but boredom’s not on the list. Excitement. Desire. A little bit of nerves, if I’m being honest. I haven’t been with anyone since Andrea, but I push her out the door of my mind like an unwelcome guest. There’s only room for Vanessa here.

  “Oh, good.” She turns to me at the threshold of her door and smiles. “I remembered to make my bed.”

  Her bed could be covered in ants right now, and I wouldn’t care. “I’m definitely judging whether you have hospital corners.”

  She laughs and pulls me inside. “The bed just arrived a few days ago. It’s really comfortable.”

  My mind struggles to stick with the conversation about beds instead of what I want to do on one. “I like your throw pillows.”

  “Thanks.” She surveys the rainbow row of them. Square, round, cylindrical, and in every bright color I can imagine.

  I expect her to have some ritual for setting them neatly aside, so I’m surprised when she drops back on the bed, grabbing my hand to pull me with her. “Don’t make me wait any more.”

  “Me?” I laugh, grateful for the invitation as I ease back on top of her. I’m careful to brace my weight on my elbows, not wanting to crush her.

  But Vanessa wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me in tight. “You,” she breathes, kissing the side of my neck. “I’ve wanted you so much.”

  “Same.” I murmur it against her throat, kissing a warm, gentle path into the space between her breasts. “You have the softest skin.”

  She laughs and draws her hands to the sides of my face. “Kiss me, Dean.”

  I move back up, melding my lips with hers. This time, the kiss is urgent and hungry. I try to hold back, but she’s urging me on with her tongue against mine and the soft little moans in the back of her throat.