Page 17 of When The Rain Falls

"What is it?" I ask, hands on hip. And why am I playing fucking show and tell with a grown man?

"It's a cocktail infuser,” he explains as he lifts the lid. He raises a glass filled with amber liquid. Smoke rises from the rim.

"Try it," he urges. I don’t bother to mention that I don’t drink. I don’t feel like explaining. I take the glass and bring itto my nose. It smells like...hickory? As I take a sip, Greg studies me. The drink is disgusting, but I don't flinch. I might have a mediocre lawn, but I have an excellent poker face.

"Interesting," is all I say.

My attention is drawn to someone new entering the kitchen. A woman with wavy hair, but all I see is her back. She's not Alicia and I don't recognize her. She opens the fridge and her entire head seems to disappear inside. She's wearing tiny cotton shorts. The seam of those shorts ride up her perfectly round ass and disappear somewhere I should not be thinking about. My gaze travels down her long, muscular legs. There's a thin, delicate tattoo wrapping around an upper thigh.

I’m fucking mesmerized. God. And this is just her backside. Imagine what her front looks like.

No. Finn. Donotdo that.

"Greg, did you eat all the cake, you useless dildo?" she says as she turns around. Liquid immediately shoots from my mouth and my nose. I choke as liquid fire creeps up my nostrils. It’s the girl from the bar. The one in the black tank top.The one who fucking bit me.

When her gaze falls on me, her face changes from confusion to recognition. Then her eyes light up like they've been plugged into a goddamn socket. A sinful smirk curling the edge of her mouth.

"What cake?" Greg asks, attention focused on the contraption in front of him. He didn't even balk at her insult. What did she call him? A useless dildo? Fitting.

"Aimee this is Finn, Ruby's dad." Greg waves in my general direction as he piles more wood chips on the plate in front of him. Aimee's eyes widen, if that's even possible, with this new bit of information. "Andthatis Alicia's sister," he adds.

She’s Julie’s witch aunt from hell?

"You?" she exclaims, her eyes widening. "You'reRuby's dad?The troll?The hideous beast of a man?" Her forehead wrinkles and it looks like she's thinking just a little too hard. Wait a second.Whatdid she just call me? I don’t dwell on it too long because as she moves her mouth, all I can think about is her lips on mine. Warm, wet, soft, and rough. I resist the urge to touch my fingers to my lips.

Finally, she throws me an amused smile as she props herself on the door of the fridge. "Huh," she says, considering me. She's wearing a fitted t-shirt. It’s clear she’s cold from the open fridge, based upon the peaked nipples displayed across her chest. She should close the nipples. Fuck, I mean fridge. Does she realize how much energy she's wasting?

I force my eyes upward towards her face. And it’s a feat of gigantic proportions. Because I can’t remember the last time I saw nipples. Or at least the outline of them. And now all I can think about is what she looks like without a shirt on. Fuck.

But once my gaze falls on her face, I’m distracted all over again. I remember her being attractive. But goddamn. I don’t remember her looking like this. The glitz and glamor from the other night is gone. It’s fallen away to reveal a face that’s simple, but genuine. Understated, but radiant. She’s not wearing jewelry or makeup of any kind, and yet, I can’t look away. Not from the flirty curves of her lips. The delicate upturn in her nose. Or her ridiculously large brown eyes.

And the way she moves. It’s like watching a feather being carried away on the wind. Light and breezy, but with a subtle hint of seduction.

Goddammit. How long can you stare at someone before it starts to get creepy?

"Are you sure you're Ruby's dad? I don't hear the sound of helicopter blades," she snaps. I'm pretty sure that's a reference to being a helicopter parent. And I'm pretty sure I hate her morethan I did before. Do I hate her? Or do I want to push her up against the wall and suck the peaks right off those delicate nipples. Fuck. My brain is malfunctioning.

"For the record, I'm not overprotective. I just like to have information," I tell her defensively.

"You’ve explained that,” she says. “Is that why you’re here? To frisk me for firearms?" She has a glint in her eyes that's suggestive. "Is that the kind of information you’re looking for? What I’ve got hidden beneath my clothes?” The air feels hot around me. Aimee's radiating energy, buzzing like a hive of bees. If she stings the way she bites, I don’t think I’d protest.

I open my mouth to answer, but I can’t think of anything to say. My mind is full of round, pebbled nipples.

Her eyes lock on mine. It's like she's daring me. But daring me to do what? All I can think about is the state of the milk in the nipples—fuck, not nipples,fridge—as the temperature slowly rises, along with Alicia's energy bill. The cool air wafting from the open door makes its way to me all the while it continues to do scandalous things to her front. The milk. In the fridge, I remind myself.

Milk. Milk. Whole milk. Two percent. Goat milk. Almond milk. Milk comes from nipples.

Goddammit.

"You shouldn't leave the door open like that," I say sternly, clutching my glass tightly against my chest. She needs to close the door and she needs to do it right now so that I stop thinking about nipples. She laughs as she pulls out a sparkling water and finally closes the door. But right when I feel like I can finally relax, she’s walking closer to me until we’re a table width apart. Her nearness sends me back to last night when she pressed her mouth against mine. I can't help feeling like a cornered animal. Cornered by feelings of desire and want that I most definitelyshould not be having right now. I glance down the hallway towards the front door. Just to make sure my exit isn't blocked.

"Aimee. Try this," Greg says, holding up a drink to her. "I finally got it right.'

"No thanks," she says, her eyes trained on me. Her scrutiny is intense. A finger lifts from the can in her palm and points at my face.

"So, what happened there?" The corner of her mouth curls mischievously. I rub the bite mark on my lip and frown at her. When she comes one step closer, my body twitches involuntarily.

I bring my voice to a low hum. "You knowexactlywhat happened." I grip the glass like gripping it might be able to save me from my discomfort. She must notice my twitch. She tucks a hand under her elbow. And now, I’m kicking myself for not insisting on that background check.

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