“Well, I thought I’d only be here for two days. I couldn’t afford a motel for any longer.”
Didn’t seem like she could afford much of anything. “Don’t you have a job?”
“Of course, I do.” She sounded insulted. “I’m a waitress in a diner. And I’m very, very good at my job.”
A waitress? Nothing was adding up. He’d seen her clothes, heard the stories from Kurt. “And your parents don’t help you out?”
“Oh, no. They’ve warsh…warsh…washed their hands of me.” She face-planted onto the bed.
Which meant the cake was now on the duvet. “Just because you didn’t marry some guy?”
She rolled onto her back. “He’s not some guy. He’s from the second wealthiest family in England.”
“If you come from a wealthy family, why do you need to marry someone from one?”
“Well.” She let out a dramatic sigh. “Our parents are in business together.” She crooked a finger at him to come closer.
He set a knee on the bed and got up close to that lush mouth. He wanted to brush the hair out of her eyes and tuck it behind her ear. He wanted to stroke the back of his hand over her cheek to see if it was as soft as it looked.
“He sucked in bed.” She said it at full volume, and he jerked back. “Shex. He wasn’t good at the shex.”
“That’s a good enough reason not to marry someone.” He started to get up, but she yanked his arm, and he toppled onto her.
“Don’t tell anybody, but he doesn’t tickle the pickle.”
“I don’t…are you saying you have a pickle?”
“No, silly.”
“Then whose pickle are we talking about?”
“Okay, not a pickle. What do I have?” She hiked up on her elbows. “A button. He doesn’t lick my button.”
“Ah, okay. Gotcha. He doesn’t go down on you.”
“Yes. Exactly. I’ve known him my whole life, but we’d only ever been friends, so when he first asked me out on a date, I was so excited. He’s very handsome, and he’s always been so nice to me, and I thought, yay, we’re going to do the shexy things.” She cupped a hand over her mouth. “I got another secret. I tickled his pickle in the parking lot of a restaurant.”
“You might not want to tell me these things.”
“Oh, and we did it in a closet at a party.”
“Phinny, I promise you’re going to regret this in the morning. I’ll tell you what. I’ll grab you—”
Eyes bright with mischief, she fisted his shirt and pulled him back down. “I gave him a blow job right in front of our families.” Laughing, she shook her head. “They weren’t in the bathroom with us, but they were right there, in the dining room. It was his sister’s engagement party. But Cameron didn’t like doing it in fun places. He only likes shex before he goes to bed.” Falling back onto the mattress, she pumped hips. “Unh, uhn, uhn.” She screwed up her face and shouted, “Oh.” When she settled, she gave him a disappointed look. “It wasn’t good with him.”
“Yeah, that sounds pretty bad.”
“Do you tickle your girlfriend’s pickle?”
“I’m not seeing anyone, but if I was…hell, yeah, I’d lick her button.”
“Wait.” She wrapped her hand around his forearm. “Do you like doing it?” She looked so serious.
“I love it.”
Her eyes went wide.
He placed his palm over her hand. “Phinny, sex isn’t fun unless we’re both into it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if she’s just lying there waiting for me to finish…I’d rather tickle my own pickle.”
“Your girlfriend’s very lucky.”
“Well, like I said, I’m not seeing anyone right now.”
“You should be. You should totally have a girlfriend. You don’t know how many women I know who don’t get shatisfied by men.”
“So, it’s my civic duty? To have a girlfriend?”
Her eyelids drooped. “I’m very tired.”
“Hang on. Sera—er, Phinny, you don’t want to fall asleep with chocolate cake on your shirt.” He tried to gently shake her, but she’d gone limp. “Crap.” He should just go, leave her to deal with everything when she woke up. But she was going to be hungover and seeing the mess she’d made would only make her feel worse. “Okay, look.” He slid a hand under her and set her upright.
Her head tipped back, hair spilling like a waterfall. “No, no, no. I’m shleeping.” She tried but didn’t seem to have the strength to lift it on her own.
“Come on. Raise your arms.”
She gave a sleepy smile. “Are you going to tickle my pickle?”
“Nope. Not when you’re drunk, and not when you’re sober. I am never going to lick your button.”
“You don’t like me?”
“You’re pretty cute when you’re drunk, but you’re Kurt’s daughter, and my purpose in life right now is to keep you from selling his ranch.” He lifted her arm. “Hold it there, okay?” He gave her a shake, so she’d understand the directive.
“My nanny used to put me to bed when I was little.” She wore a goofy smile. “I’d always stay up too late. I just wanted to be part of them, you know?”
“Yeah, sure.” Part of whom?
“They’d have fancy dinner parties, and the house would smell so good. You could hear everyone laughing.” She attempted to mimic the sound. “Oh, my God, there’d be these bursts of it. Talk, talk, talk. So much to say. And candles everywhere. It was all so romantic and lovely. Mummy would catch me sitting behind the curtains in the parlor, and then nanny would carry me up to bed. She’d sit on the toilet and prop me on her lap and brush my teeth. Hmmm.” Her head tipped sideways, like she wanted to rest it on his shoulder, but he was trying to get the jersey over her head.
The moment she was topless, he had to look away. Because he didn’t think he’d ever seen anything as hot as that sexy scrap of lace that held her full, jiggly tits. He could imagine the weight of them in his hands and picture what they’d look like when he pushed them together. He wanted to watch her features soften with pleasure when he sucked her pretty nipples into his mouth.
He wanted to show her just how good sex could be.
But that would never happen, so he laid her back down and folded the comforter over her. Balling up the jersey, he leapt off the bed. “You are nothing like what I thought.”
It’s going to be a long-ass month if she keeps being this adorable.
Chapter Six
It felt strange to live in Kurt’s house without him. Declan kept expecting to enter a room and find him sitting in a chair reading or huddling over his laptop working on receipts.
This morning, after asking Mitch if he could borrow a car, he headed for the kitchen. The aroma of coffee had him half-hoping he’d see Kurt on a stool at the island, mug in one hand, paper in the other.
He’d found nothing but a warming coffee pot. Grabbing the keys, he headed outside. On his way to the garage, he ran into the foreman.