Page 28 of Never Kiss the Bad Boy

Look at her the wrong way just once, and I’ll drag you behind my bike. Touch her, and I’ll bury you beneath Kathy Wilson’s pool face-up so your ghost has to see her ass floating above you.

Whoa.

I’m not usually a Neanderthal type. But the idea of Zeus getting remotely close to Dani sends unexpected fire scorching through my veins.

Taking a deep breath, I force a chuckle. “Too old for you,” I declare firmly. I glance back over my shoulder to make sure he hears me loud and clear. I bet Dani’s only a handful of years older than Zeus, but their ages have nothing to do with why she’s completely off-limits to him.

He laughs good-naturedly, and I belatedly realize he played me like a fucking fiddle.

“Get to work, Preston,” I deadpan, heading toward the back yard.

Behind me, I hear him whine, “Aw man, you don’t have to go that far with it. I was just fucking around with ya.”

The day goes as well as it can, given we’re laying the last of the grid for the concrete before our morning break and moving on to installing filtration plumbing by lunch.

While Zeus and I work in the shallow end, laying wire grid before using a spot welder to tack the pieces together, Wayne and Frogger are down in the deep end, carefully carving out the space for the plumbing.

Or at least, they should be careful about it.

“Oh, yeah, my favorite part of the job,” Frogger declares as he positions a two-inch-wide length of PVC pipe in the trench they’ve dug. “Laying long, thick pipe.”

“This pipe takes it in, not blows it out,” Wayne reminds him. “You saying you like taking big, wet loads?”

All of us stop and look at Frogger with matching grins as we wait for his response.

He rolls his eyes, huffing out a laugh as he smack talks Wayne right back. “Don’t get too excited, old man. We know you haven’t had a big, wet load in ages. It’s more like… pffft.” Frogger sticks his tongue out, blowing a half-assed raspberry, while flicking his fingers like he’s got a few, teeny-tiny water droplets on them. It’s definitely not complimentary to Wayne’s supposed ejaculation power or volume.

Wayne grumbles, “At least I know where to put it, unlike you young ‘uns, making a mess every damn where.” He weakly smacks at his face, his chest, and then his saggy jeans-covered, flat butt.

“I’ll put it anywhere that keeps me away from child support court.” Frogger makes an X with his arms and hisses like a cat as if that’s the worst thing he can imagine.

“Maybe try a rag, then,” Wayne suggests, giving Frogger a Disappointed Dad look.

The day’s not all shit-talking and jokes, though, and by quitting time, we’re one hundred percent prepped for concrete. The guys throw me a wave as they leave, piling into Wayne’s truck for the drive home.

I head to Kathy’s back door to give her the update, but after a couple of knocks, she doesn’t answer. “Huh, I thought she was here all day,” I muse aloud, looking up at the windows of the house. There’s no movement behind any of the curtains now, and I decide to take not-dealing with Kathy as the gift that it is.

Truthfully, I don’t know what’s been happening around here today. We were in the hole, out of sight and unaware of whatever activity was going on above our five-to-thirteen-foot-deep station, when accounting for slope and plumbing. I heard the trucks coming and going at Dani’s all day, and the music playing this afternoon, but there wasn’t a single chance to climb up and see for myself how things were going. Hopefully, my parking adjustment helped Dani a bit.

Only one way to find out for sure.

I hop the fence, going up to Dani’s back door again. Yesterday, I did it as a way to check on her before announcing my presence after seeing a new and out-of-place vehicle in her driveway. Today, I do it because it makes me feel like there’s something more between us than temporary proximity. Like maybe we could be friends. Or like maybe that kiss wasn’t a mistake of epic proportions.

Instead of knocking, I call through the screen door, “Knock, knock, Daniela.”

I hear her sigh from inside. “Come in.”

Grinning at her already-annoyed tone, I go in to find her standing at the kitchen sink. She’s gorgeous, as always—her face covered with the slight sheen of sweat, her bun slightly off-center on the top of her head, her blue tank top spotted with water drops, her strong legs covered in swirly print yoga pants, and her hands and lower arms covered in rubber gloves, which seems like a good choice given the hard scrub down she’s giving to the pan in front of her.

“Anybody here I need to know about?” I tease, scanning the kitchen where it’s only the two of us, leaning over to peer into the living room, and even picking up the lid from the pot on the stove to look inside.

“Hey! Put that back,” Dani says. “It’s soaking so I don’t have to work so hard to clean it.”

I let the lid fall into place with a clatter. “Want some help?”

She stops scrubbing and pins me with a wary look. “Why?”

She makes it sound like my offer comes with not only strings, but full-blown restraints and restrictions, plus some clauses and addendums. I shrug. “Wanted to ask how your visit with your brother went, and standing here while you work is rude.”

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