“No one.” I have moves he’s never seen before. Okay, that might be going too far, but I don’t go easy on his Batman either. We don’t play to humor each other. This is survival of the best player.
“Seems like no one is eager to talk to you.” On screen Batman falls to my superhero Starfire. “Damn it.”
“The student becomes the master,” I crow as my phone beeps again. I’m going to have to find a new electrician for my next local project. I can’t imagine facing Hairy Walt now that we’ve seen each other in such an unprofessional manner.
“Want to get that?” Vale tosses his controller on the coffee table and picks up our empty sundae bowls as another message has my phone chirping again. “I’ll take care of these dishes.”
I follow him into the kitchen and put the coffee pot on. It’s still too early for him to concede defeat. More than likely we’ll end up playing best out of five and then best out of ten. If he’s really lucky I’ll let him win five rounds and we’ll come a draw.
I open my inbox to find a couple of messages from Hud.
“My brother’s checking up on how we’re doing,” I tell Vale. “You think I should tell him about us?”
The sundae glass he was holding falls into the hot soapy water in the sink with a clank. “Us?”
“Yeah.” I waggle my eyebrows, teasingly. “About how you wanted to get me out of my clothes.”
“Lily. Christ.” He forgets about the dishes in the sink and wipes his hands on a dishrag. “I thought you should be wearing more clothes.”
“I’m aware.” That’s precisely the reason I’m giving him hell over it. Well, that and I want to push his buttons, because he’s jumpy and snarly and more than a little on edge, and I’m starting to form a theory.
I could be wrong. Perhaps I’m way off base, but my theory goes a little something like this… men turn into insufferable knobs when they’re not getting their way. What does that have to do with this situation we’re currently in? A lot, if you also consider the fact that he snapped at the guy at the bar who was long distance flirting with me and growled at that poor guy who lost his sandwich fillings when I took off my jacket. I have a theory that Vale Westerly wants something, or someone, he can’t have. Now, all I have to do is prove it.
“You said as much while you turned into a green-eyed monster.”
“That’s not what—"
“Uh-uh.” I waggle a finger at him. “I don’t think so. You’ve been weird tonight. Insisting my clothes are indecent. Growling at people who look at me wrong like you’re some kind of-of barbarian hulk.”
“I always do that,” he grumbles and tosses the dishtowel he used to dry his hands on the counter.
“No.” I press my lips together and step back as he comes nearer. “That’s Hud. He always does that. You normally back me up when he’s being overbearing.”
“You don’t normally turn up to dinner naked.” He huffs in frustration. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do to me.”
“You think I’m trying to do something to you?” I lead like a detective. I’m close now. He’s crumbling like a fine feta.
He grabs the collar of his T-shirt and stretches it away from his throat. “I don’t know. Aren’t you? You kissed me the other night. Not the other way around.”
“Uh-huh. I knew you were acting weird because of the other night.”
“Well, what did you expect?” His chest heaves and he grips his hair. “You told me you wanted me to see you naked.”
“I was drunk.” Apparently I grow a major pair when I’ve had enough tequila.
“Were you drunk two minutes ago, when you suggested I wanted to get you out of your clothes?”
“You do want to get me out of my clothes though, don’t you? You can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Christ, Lil.” His Adam’s apple bounces as he swallows hard, even as his gaze caresses my chest before he catches himself. His face flushes. “I do not want to see you naked.”
“Guess it’s a good thing you didn’t get those photos I sent you the other night while I was under the influence.” I blink. Too far. Way too far.
“What photos?”
I clamp a hand over my mouth. “Oh shit.”
“Lily, what photos are you talking about?” His blue-eyed gaze turns dark as steel behind his glasses.
“Never mind.” I hold my phone behind my back. “Forget I said anything. It’s completely mortifying.”
“Lily.” My name is a warning on his lips.
“Photos of my carrot collection.” Sometimes I don’t know when to shut my mouth. Right now I’m thinking that point was a good ten minutes ago.
We could have ignored the other night when I told him my deepest hidden fantasy if I’d kept my thoughts to myself. It’s just… we’ve always had this relationship where I’m one of the guys and I can say all the stupid shit on my mind without having to censor myself. And that’s worked out fine for us as long as I remembered that I didn’t have a crush on him anymore. The other night changed that. And now the man in front of me is acting strange.
“Carrot collection?” His brow puckers.
“Yes. I take carrots and dress them up.”
“Is that so?” He presses one palm into the island. Rests his weight on it. “What do you dress them up as?”
“It depends on the carrot.” I shrug. It’s lies. All lies. Horrendously bad fibs, but he seems to believe me. “Sometimes I put little top hats on them. Or tutus. I have one with a monocle.”
“Now that I want to see.” He reaches for my phone.
“You can’t.” I back myself into a stool. Hide my phone under my butt. “It’s not finished yet.”
“Does Hud know about your new hobby?”
“Nope.” I press my lips together. Shake my head because sometimes a no isn’t enough and this seems like a good time to really drive the point home. This is something my brother should never ever be privy to. Ever. And once more for emphasis. I will die if Hud ever hears that I sent dirty photos to anyone. Let alone that I tried to send them to his best friend. Only whether it will be by mortification or homicide remains a mystery.
“Are you going to show me?” he asks.
Does he want to see the pictures? Of me? In my underwear? My heart skips a beat that has nothing to do with any essential electrolyte deficiency, potassium or otherwise. Tingles make me clench my thighs. Or maybe he’s really bought my line about carrots. Either way those pictures aren’t vegetables in top hats. “Can’t.”
“What kind of pictures, Lily?” His voice is full of gravel. I’ve never noticed it before, but it does nothing to help my little conundrum of finding him sexy. Dangerously so.
I squirm in my seat. It’s time to come clean. Enough that he’ll drop the subject, hopefully. “I wasn’t naked if that’s what you’re asking.”
Grunting, groaning, and swearing blasts into our conversation from the speaker on the kitchen island. “Lily, fuck.”