She’d intentionally left the butterflies in her stomach out of the re-telling of events, as well as the fact that she and Shane had fallen asleep in each other’s arms. There was no need for Holly and Jenna to go jumping to conclusions, and definitely no need for them— or anybody— to think she was doing something insane like falling for Shane.
Yes, she’d slept with him, and yes, the sex had been good enough to curl her toes (both times). Yes, too, it had been far more impulsive than her norm. But Shane had surprised the hell out of her by being all tender and sweet about the stupid crying thing. Her defenses had been tongue-tied and twisted the minute he’d brushed the tears from her face, and they’d only gotten more turned around when he’d laid that kiss on her at the workbench, like some kind of sexual voodoo that would’ve brought a convent full of nuns to their knees.
That kiss had been her undoing, like a loose strand of yarn on a sweater begging to be pulled. Bellamy hadn’t planned on letting him unwind her until she was nothing more than a pile of soft thread on the ground, but that’s exactly what had happened. And now she had to face facts.
The acrobatics going on between her chest and her hips every time she thought of Shane’s deep, rumbling laugh or every time she caught a whiff of his scent from her sweater were just a byproduct of the multiple orgasms he’d given her. It was just sex. Great sex, but still. Just sex. Period. End of story.
No matter how much those backflips in her gut suggested otherwise.
In the three hours since he’d gotten home, Shane’s cell phone had morphed into something roughly the size of a moose, and it did everything but dance and sing and scream pick me up and dial, buddy! every time he so much as glanced at it.
He’d stuck around the garage for more than half the day, fielding a handful of phone calls from people who’d been in fender benders or needed to be dragged out of ditches. Grady’s wasn’t set up to do body work, which was a damned shame considering that was the extent of what the fender bender people needed. Still, Shane was happy to keep his body and brain occupied so they wouldn’t gang up on him and drift back to the rush of Bellamy’s skin on his, and how what he really wanted to do was call her even though he had nothing to say.
Eh. Scratch that. He had plenty to say, it’s just that he was pretty sure “I dig you way more than I should and I can’t for the life of me forget the incredible way you smell and would you please shut me up by saying you’ll let me take you out to dinner” would make him look like the biggest idiot on two legs.
But something had clicked inside of him the minute his lips had found hers at that workbench, something seamless and daring and good. He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it all day, even though he’d eventually given in and let himself linger on his thoughts of Bellamy in an effort to get it out of his system. It had finally hit him on his way back to the cabin, and he hadn’t been able to shake the idea since it had popped into his mind.
She felt right.
“That’s just fucking ridiculous,” Shane said to the moose-phone, giving it a petulant glare. “I’ve known the woman for all of five days. Yes, she’s pretty…”
She’s downright stunning, the moose-phone interrupted knowingly.
“And yes, she’s nice…”
Screw nice. You like her, and you know it.
“But let’s be realistic. Bellamy lives in the city. She has an Ivy League degree and leads an Ivy League life. And I’m not that guy.” Shane’s voice went cold over his closing words.
But you slept with her, and she’s expecting you to call. You’re not that guy, either.
Well, shit. The moose-phone knew what the hell it was talking about. Shane wasn’t really a one-night stand kind of guy, but even still—he knew enough about women and casual sex to know that what had happened between him and Bellamy hadn’t felt like a one-and-done.
Plus, the stupid moose-phone was right. As much as he didn’t want to say it out loud, Shane really couldn’t deny the fact that he did like Bellamy. In exactly the way his inner voice implied.
“Fine,” he grumbled, swiping the cell phone from its resting spot on the counter. “But I have the feeling I’m going to regret this.”
Or maybe you’re terrified that you won’t, you big fucking baby. Now shut up and dial.
19
“Hello?”
All it took were two tiny syllables for Shane to realize that his inner voice had his number, big-time. Man, the sound of Bellamy’s voice was like honey, velvety sweet and so damned good.
“Hey. It’s me. I mean, it’s Shane.” He swung the phone away from his mouth to clear his throat in his sleeve.
Her laugh could’ve melted butter. “Hey, me. What have you been up to on this fine evening?”
“Truth?” He sank into the Barcalounger, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder while he kicked up his feet into the long shadows cast off by the fresh sunset.
“Of course.”
“I’m sitting at home in the dark in a nasty old chair, talking on the phone with you. What’re you doing?”
“Taking a bath.” Bellamy’s voice was so smooth that Shane questioned his hearing.
“Sorry, what?” Nah. He had to have misunderstood. Surely, there was no way she was naked on the other end of the phone.
“I’m taking a bath. You know, the big, oblong thing in the bathroom, usually full of hot water and bubbles. Well, probably not bubbles in your case, but still. You get the idea, right?”
Oh, he got the idea loud and clear and in Technicolor. Shit, he needed to not be lying here in the dark, listening to the purr of her voice and thinking about her hot, naked body in a bathtub. “Do you like burgers?” he blurted, trying like hell to think of his battle-axe of a third grade teacher, the sludge that came out of an engine when it was way overdue for an oil change, anything other than Bellamy’s perfect tits playing hide and seek with a bunch of bubbles.
“Ohhhkay. A little random, but still a good question. Sure.” She paused to laugh again, and Shane could swear that he heard the soft trickling of water in the background.
He tried to focus, but his mind—and a couple of other parts of his anatomy—were still stuck on the idea of the bubbles. It wasn’t his fault that she had such fantastic tits, really. Who could blame a guy?
Bellamy cleared her throat at the exact moment a voice from deep in Shane’s mind screamed burgers, dumbass! but he faked flawless composure as he replied.
“Well, your trip to Pine Mountain wouldn’t really be complete if you didn’t have one of Lou’s burgers. They’re a culinary masterpiece.”
That got her attention. “Reeeeeally?”
Shane could all but hear her grin over the word. “Scout’s honor.”
“Shane Griffin, are you asking me out on a date?” Although Bellamy’s voice teased its way over the phone line, it tightened his gut with its implication.
Oh, fuck it. The moose-phone was never wrong.
“I believe I am. What do you say, Bellamy Blake?”
“I say how fast can you come and get me? I’m starving.”