Page 28 of Foreplay on Words

“You seem to like my ass,” he teased as he wiggled it in my direction. Playful Evan was back. I liked him.

“Whose hand was on whose ass earlier, mister?” I pretended to be affronted, but let’s be honest...it was hot.

“You liked it,” his voice was taunting as he narrowed his eyes at me.

“I never denied that.” My shrug pulled another amused chuckle out of him.

“Come on. We keep getting sidetracked. If we finish our work, that means more time for…other things.” His pace was steady as he led me along the trail on the far side of the lake. I could barely make out parts of his house through the trees.

It was a nice little trail, and he’d put river rock down to keep it from being reclaimed by the forest.

“So, do you own all this? The pond and everything?”

“My property starts at the main road where you turn and stops about ten feet that way.” He pointed toward the woods that ran away from his house and disappeared into the distance.

“Past that is all part of the state park,” he told me. “I liked that I wouldn’t have neighbors close by. The park wraps around my land.”

“Your books must be selling well to afford all this.”

He shrugged, flashing me an embarrassed smile. “I’ve been very blessed. I went to college on an athletic scholarship and wasn’t sure how I would pay for room and board.”

That hadn’t turned up in my Google search.

“My parents helped as much as possible, but we grew up knowing we needed to work for what we wanted.”

“We?” There wasn’t much on his family in the things I’d read about him.

“I have a sister. She’s still in Chicago.”

“I have two brothers in Minnesota,” I offered. He didn’t ask, but I felt like he appreciated not having to drag information out of me.

“You’re from Minnesota?”

I nodded. I hadn’t lived there in over a decade, but it was home. “South of Minneapolis. I’m the baby. Sorry, didn’t mean to sidetrack you. I’m a chronic over-sharer,” I apologized, and he smiled indulgently.

“That’s fine. I’m glad you’re still talking to me and not running from the awkward man who forced his kisses on you in the middle of the forest.”

I may have looked at him like he was crazy. If he doubted the consensual nature of our rendezvous, maybe I hadn’t done it right. “There wasn’t anything forced. Except maybe my hips into yours when you grabbed me. Which was hot, by the way.”

“I don’t have the best track record with women.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He was beyond charming in his own special way, and the outside package was also quite appealing. I was worried he’d think I was superficial for being so swayed by his pretty face, but our attraction seemed mutual. While I was drawn to his appearance, what was beneath the surface was the truly attractive part.

“When I get nervous, I either clam up and do that staring thing, or I just start rambling.” My heart clenched at the broken look on his face. “It used to drive Simone nuts.”

“Is that your ex?”

He nodded. I could tell he didn’t like to talk about her.

“Anyway,” he redirected, “I was a poor, ramen-eating college student. During my freshman year, I sat down and started turning a short story I’d written for an assignment into a book.”

“Were you a writing major too?” I knew writers came from all backgrounds, but I wondered how he started.

“No.” He shook his head. “I was actually a chemistry major.”

“Then how did you come to write a short story for an assignment?” Last I checked, chemistry majors spent all their time in science labs, not computer labs.

“Core requirement. I took a writing seminar. I’d always been a fan of writing, but I also dreamed of becoming a forensic detective.”

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