Page 6 of Say Yes
He throws me an irritated glance before storming down to the other end of the counter. My jaw hardens as I watch the exchange, wondering if it’s about time I shut this shit down. But I’m distracted when Lindsay rushes up and throws her arms around me in a fierce hug.
She fits me so perfectly, and I wonder just how much longer I can be patient before I toss her over my shoulder, take her home, and tie her to my bed until she admits she’s mine.
After a few minutes, I release her from my arms and pull out her chair. I sit next to her and take her hand.
I’m not in the mood to ease into anything tonight, except maybe her pussy while her legs are wrapped around me. I shake off the thought and blurt, “Have dinner with me tonight.”
Silence descends as she stares at me with no response. I hold in a sigh, and I’m debating how to proceed when she nods and whispers, “Okay.” I’m elated and about to finally kiss her lips, until she opens her mouth again, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Just as friends, right?”
My eyes narrow, my mouth turning down into a fierce frown. I’m about to vehemently disagree when I look into her chocolate pools and see how nervous she is. Everything in me softens, and I reach for her hand once more. “I can’t agree to that, honey”—fear flares in her eyes so I quickly go on—“But, I can promise to let you set the pace and that we won’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”
Her eyes close for a moment and when they open back up, the previous emotions are barely there. She takes a deep breath and pushes her chair out before getting to her feet. “Pick me up at eight. I trust you know how to find your way to my place?” She smirks and though the fear still lurks in her eyes, it’s overshadowed by her sass, and I’m completely captivated by her. Something sparks inside me, a feeling I don’t recognize and choose to ignore for the moment.
Rising up from my seat, I take her hand and flip it over before brushing my lips across her inner wrist. She visibly shivers and I smile, leaning in ridiculously close and giving her a wink. “Am I going to get to taste your cupcakes?”
Lindsay rolls her eyes, but they twinkle with humor and she sucks her cheeks in to avoid laughing out loud. Spinning around, she marches around the back of the front counter. My eyes drop and I admire the view of her jeans hugging her incredible ass. When they disappear, I look up to see her halted at a door to the back, watching me over her shoulder. “Are you sure you can handle my goods, fly boy?”
I grin and stick my hands in my pockets, not bothering to hide the blatant desire I’m feeling. “I know exactly what to do with your treats, babe.” My face is wiped of all amusement as hunger burns inside me, and I know she can see it. “I have no doubt they’ll satisfy my deep cravings.” Her cheeks pink a little, and she whispers something to a young, redheaded girl before she scurries through the door and out of my sight.
I’ve kept the little punk from earlier on my radar, and I see him sulking behind the register. Grant. That’s the little pipsqueak’s name. I decide to keep a better eye on him in the future. There is just something about him… I saunter up to the glass case of goodies and he spins on his heel, disappearing through the same door I’d last seen Lindsay exit through. I finally decide on a caramel pumpkin scone and a brownie cheesecake cupcake. When I grab my wallet out of my back pocket, the girl—Jordanna, according to her nametag—waves it away. “It’s on the house.” I shake my head and try again to pay, but she stubbornly refuses to give in.
My phone beeps with a calendar alert, and I remember I have an appointment shorty, forcing me to let her win. She hands me a little pink and white striped box, tied with a mint green bow. I chuckle as I take the frilly little package, thinking about the shit I’m going to get from the guys in my—I shut that line of thinking down with brute force. On my way out the door I stop and call back to Jordanna, “Tell her to wear jeans tonight.”
I make it home just in time to join a scheduled conference call with a think tank in San Diego. When I graduated with my degree, they were working on some new equipment to pitch to NASA. A friend of a friend suggested me and approached me a few months ago. At first, they extended an offer for me to join them permanently, but I wasn’t interested. I preferred the freedom of rerunning my own business.
When they called me again a couple of weeks ago, this time they asked me to simply consult on a specific project. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was bored. I missed the challenge of my old career, and while I still had no desire to join the company, I agreed to be a consultant. At the very least, it exercised by brain, if not my body. But old habits die hard, and I’m still following a strict regimen every day to keep in shape.
The call lasts several hours, and when we hang up, I’m surprised to see that it’s already late afternoon. I use the time before I meet Lindsay to straighten up my place, then shower, and dress in jeans and a black T-shirt. I’m ready to go thirty minutes early, so I decide to go next door and see if she might be too.
Grabbing my keys and wallet from my dresser, I shove them in my pockets. I do a quick check of all windows and doors, then go out the front, locking up behind me. The duplex is designed to provide some privacy between the two homes, with the garages side by side, protruding in between. I stride down my walkway to the driveway and cross it to Lindsay’s yard. As I come around the corner, I skid to an abrupt stop.
Lindsay is standing on her porch, wrapped up in the arms of another man. What the fuck? I’m rocked with disappointment and, I admit, searing jealousy. Before I even comprehend what I’m doing, I stalk up to them. Lindsay must hear me coming because she looks up and our eyes lock. She quickly untangles herself from the man’s embrace, looking uncomfortable, but to my shock, I see no guilt. Is she really that callus? How could I have read her so wrong?
“Colt, this is Vince. He’s an old friend. Actually, he was my husband’s best friend. He was sailing down the coast and stopped here to say hi.” Some of the strong emotions inside me begin to recede. Maybe I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I turn to get a good look at the other man. He’s tall, with olive skin, dark green eyes, and dark hair. He’s thin and lanky, but not muscular, and his skin tone is clearly a product of genetics versus time spent in the sun. Khaki pants, a Polo, and deck shoes, cement my impression of him as a preppy asshole. As I study him, I sense something off, but dismiss it as an effect of my possessive feelings for Lindsay.
“Vince, this is Colt,” she continues with the introductions. “He’s my—” She falters for a moment, looking confused, so I jump in and . . . yeah, I stake my fucking claim on her.
“Boyfriend,” I state firmly. I jog up the steps and slide my arm around Lindsay, tucking her into my side. I have no doubt I’m going to get an earful from her later, and I’m even more convinced when I feel a surprisingly strong, and pretty painful pinch in my side. But for now, I focus on Vince, my stare hard and full of meaning.
His eyes bounce back and forth between us a couple of times, assessing the situation before landing on Lindsay. “It that true? He’s your boyfriend?”
I squeeze her a little closer and wait, hoping she confirms it.
“Um . . . well, we’re—he’s—that is—” She stumbles over her words, and I finally tear my eyes away from the asshole and look down at her.