“Which one?”
“She’s young in the movie and has a horrible British accent.”
“Parent Trap!” Cassandra exclaims excitedly. “I loved that movie as a kid. You know I thought Lindsay Lohan really had a twin sister. My sister told me the twin hated the fame they got from the movie and went into hiding. Thought that was dead-ass facts until like two years ago.”
“Seriously?” I stare back, waiting for the punchline that doesn’t come.
“Yeah, I’m not proud.” Her lips purse as she removes her leather apron to yank on her top to cool herself down. I have to fight my eyes from ogling her chest as she adds, “Anyway, did she enjoy the five kinds of ice cream you came home with?”
Cassandra’s taunting expression is something I would really like to kiss off her face. How is she mocking me for buying too much ice cream when she literally just told me she thought Lindsay Lohan was a twin until recently?
I shrug and run a hand through my hair. “I maybe went a little overboard on flavor selection.”
“You think?” She giggles.
I pin her with a heated look. “I’m an overachiever when I want to be.” She bites her lip, causing me to bite mine as well, and it suddenly feels very hot in here. I pause before adding, “I just wanted to stop in here to say thanks again for today. She’s had issues with anxiety in the past, and it’s usually something she wants her mom for, but she seemed really comforted by you. That means a lot.”
“Oh, anytime.” Cassandra gestures to her body playfully. “It’s hard work being a female and constantly trying to fuck the patriarchy.”
I chuckle and divert my attention from her body to the board she’s working on. “What’s this piece for?” I ask, reaching out to feel the misshapen hunk of wood on her sawhorse. “Is this something for that thing Kate called to talk to me about? Her book box thing? I hope it was okay I gave her your number.”
Cassandra’s brow furrows as she shrugs her shoulders. “Oh yeah, that was fine. I don’t know what the plan is with all of that yet. It seems like a big undertaking.”
“For you or for her?”
“Um…well, her definitely. And me? I never considered starting a business out of this hobby of making charcuterie boards,” she stammers, nervously rubbing her forehead.
I watch her curiously. “Isn’t that kind of the dream for most people? Make a career out of something you love to do?”
Cassandra hesitates before speaking, clearly weighing her words. “But is it good to monetize things we love? We might risk not loving it if we start to put deadlines and money labels on it.”
“I don’t think Kate would feel that way about her books,” I reply, hating the way Cassandra’s body language has shifted. She’s getting closed off and twitchy, which is an odd reaction when we’re talking about something she enjoys.
Cassandra’s brows lift knowingly. “That’s true. I’m just currently subscribed to the anti-hustle culture, so it’s just a lot for me to consider.”
I shoot her a teasing wink and lean in to whisper, “Heaven forbid you abandon your willy-nilly lifestyle and do more instead of less for once.”
Her jaw falls open as she hits me with a positively lethal gaze that excites the fuck out of me. “I’m no stranger to doing more, don’t you worry. I am just currently choosing to make life my main hustle and my nanny job my side hustle. That’s how you embrace the soft life, and nothing is wrong with that.”
“Mmmkay.” I click my tongue as she huffs indignantly. It’s fun to get a rise out of her, but I know how she gets when I start asking too many personal questions, so I turn back to the mess on the counter. “You still haven’t told me what you’re making with all these wood chunks.”
Her face instantly brightens. “Oh…I found these great pieces of driftwood down by the creek this week so I’m prepping them to scatter in a square mold and fill the gaps with epoxy. Everly picked out this great teal pigment that will look amazing.”
“Have you worked with epoxy before?” I ask, mildly impressed. She acts like she doesn’t have ambition, but it’s total bullshit. This woman has hard work ingrained in her.
“The magic of YouTube is very helpful for DIYers.” She waggles her eyebrows excitedly and moves over to the counter, where several other pieces sit next to a metal chisel. “I have to gouge out the old bark from the pits first or the sealer won’t adhere.” She holds the chisel out to me. “You should try it. It’s freakishly satisfying.”
“Okay.” I laugh and step forward, taking the tool from her hands and pushing the edge down into the hole.
“Try going at it from this angle.” She presses her tits against my arm as she reaches around me to demonstrate. The scent of coconut lotion, perfume, whatever the fuck she wears mixed with sawdust has my eyes closing involuntarily.
Fuuuck, she smells incredible.
She holds my hand as she shows me how to work the bark out, and I realize we’re having a bit of a Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore Ghost moment. I turn my head toward her and shoot her a smirk. “Most men would be emasculated by this. But considering my ex left me for another woman, it’s safe to say I have no problem with this role reversal.”
Her breasts move against me with her soft laughter—a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. “I’d take it either way.”
My cock grows hard at the wickedness in her words. It’s not a direct come on. It’s somewhere in the gray area. Then again, so was my comment. There are a lot of blurred lines here, and I’m getting kind of tired of not seeing clearly with Cassandra. And the silence that descends after her comment feels crystal fucking clear.
I realize belatedly that my breasts are pressed firmly against my boss’s arm. That sculpted arm that I can feel the muscles of through his thin T-shirt. The quietness in the room is deafening as Max pauses work on the driftwood and stares at my lips.
The heat in his eyes makes my stomach tighten, and my yoga shorts suddenly feel too snug, while my breasts practically grow a whole cup size inside my thin gray camisole. I’m not dressed properly for Max Fletcher to be looking at me like that.
I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to swallow, hoping it will somehow eliminate the need pulsating between my legs. It’s inappropriate. Everly is awake inside. She could come out here any minute, and she doesn’t need to see me looking at her dad like this.
Or her dad looking at me like that.
Because he’s the one who started this. Whatever this is.
Max sets down the wood chisel and licks his lips, dragging his lower lip through his teeth before releasing it. His eyes do that color shift thing again, darkening as if revealing the direction of his thoughts. He turns so he’s facing me, one hand splayed out on the counter as he invades my personal space with that stupid mafia man scent of his.
He reaches out a finger and wipes at something on my face. Maybe dust, maybe dirt. Could be sweat. Honestly, I’ve been out here for a while, and I’m a hot mess.
He pauses for a moment before the back of his finger glides along my jawline and down my neck to trace the ridge of my collarbone. Goose bumps erupt over my body, causing my nipples to tighten under my thin bralette. The way his nostrils flare as he watches my chest heave is damn near carnal. Warmth rushes in my chest as his hand glides down over the swell of my breast. The mark on my chest is gone now and I swear I see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes as he notices that fact.