Page 19 of Sexy Bad Escort

I shrug.I think so. Or at least, I did. “She pretends shedoesn’t like the family thing,but yeah, I think it’s good. Except her mom, of course, wants herto get married and start spitting out babies. But Mama Frost picksthe wrong sort of guys to introduce her to.”

Jocks,when Ronnie likes bad boys. Too bad I don’t fit into either category.

“SoSunday afternoon,hermom invites her over, wants her to meet the new neighbor. A jockwith two kids and still mourning his dead wife.”

“Oh no.”

“Iwent along toplay interference.” And to torture myself watching while Ronnieapparently changed her mind about bad boys as her boy toypreference and started cozying up to Jockstrap. She may not wantforever like her mother hopes, but she sure looked like she wouldhave been open to a few hours of afternoon delight.

“Andtelling her mother youtwo are dating was your game plan?”

“Why arewe speaking in sportslingo? You know I hate that shit.”

“You startedit.”

I rollmy eyes. Erin is more family to me than my flesh-and-blood kin. Hell, the Frosts are allmore like family than the ones who raised me. Even Erin’s husband,Garrett, who pretends he doesn’t like me. Except I helped himfigure out he was in love with Erin, so he’s pretty much indebtedto me for life.

“So where doesthe kissing come into play?” Erin asks.

The realquestion iswhy. Why did Ido it? I should have known a quick peck and nibble would never beenough. I’ve been lusting after the woman for well over a year.Even by my terms, that’s a whole hell of a lot ofbuildup.

“It wasan accident,” I tellher.

Shesnickers. “Your lipsaccidentally fell against hers?”

“Somethinglike that,” I mumble. To top it all off, her mother wasn’t supposedto see that part.

“So nowwhat?”

“So nowRonnie won’t speak to me.” I don’t mention our new business. It’ssomething I normallywouldn’t hesitate to share with Erin, but Ronnie asked me to holdoff.

Eringrabs the two empty beer bottles parked on the glass table betweenus and then stands. “Well, I should warn you: Paynt and Chloe haveinvited everybody over to their house for dinner and drinks tonight. Sort of a welcomehome for us, and, I assume, Ronnie. The entire Frost family will bethere. You’re welcome, of course, but I understand if you want tostay away.”

***

I don’tstay away. Hell no. Not if there’s a remote chance of seeing Ronnie. Of talking to her,convincing her that at the very least, we should let things go backto the way they were between us. I’d much rather hang out with herwhile wishing she’d get naked with me than not speaking to her atall.

Theget-togetheris casual, one of those impromptu family gatherings where everybodyshows up with a dish to pass and either a bottle of wine or asix-pack of beer. The hugs are aplenty, the laughter loud,boisterous, and contagious. All the animals are there, and Abby’splaying with them like they’re other children, while Myra andJames’s infant daughter sits in a bouncy chair and watches withwide eyes.

It’sJune, a beautiful evening with a steady breeze, so the mosquitoesare blessedly non-existent. We’re all gathered on the deck. Paynter is standing over thegrill, with his father on one side and Garrett on the other, jokingand teasing him about the way he’s cooking the meat. I have aflashback of another time, another life. My own.

I’mfourteen. It’smestanding at the grill, and my dad and brother are guiding methrough the process. But I can’t do it to their specifications—Inever could, no matter what I did or how hard I tried.

Thatnight, the steaks were charred—hockey pucks, essentially—and before the evening was over,we were all screaming at each other, until I stormed off to my roomand my brother left in a huff and my dad went to seek solace in mymother’s arms. She was the only one who never judged me, but Iresented her anyway because she was always there for mydad.

“Hey.”The soft, slightly raw wordjars me, and I blink several times until Ronnie comes intofocus. She’s standing in front of me, holding a glass of darkliquid, probably blended scotch. She’s wearing this red sundress,cotton, not formfitting, but it still stirs to life that fireinside me that hasn’t truly died down since the first day I mether.

“You okay?”she asks.

I frown.We’re standing to the side, sure, but the rest of her family isonly a few feet away. And she wants to talk about whathappened now,here?

“Youlooked like you were, Idon’t know…almost in pain or something.”

“Oh.” I scrubmy hand over my face. “Just thinking, I guess.”

“About whathappened?”

“No,” Iadmit. “My family.” This is not a subjectI like to dwell on. Erin knows, of course, butthat’s pretty much the extent of it.

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