Page 10 of The Bad Boy of Bluebonnet

What the fuck? Just like that, his boner died. “Gosh, no,” he said flatly. Where the hell was she going with this? “I’d never be interested in you in a sexual way.”

The look on her face was awkward. “I probably should explain that. I mean, it’s not that you’re a bad looking guy or anything. You’re not! I just don’t know that I’m ready to jump into a new relationship. With sex. And like, commitment. Actually mostly just sex. Staying with me doesn’t mean commitment.” She blinked as if getting lost in her own words. “I’m messing this up, I think. What I meant to say was, I just have extra rooms sitting there and I’d appreciate the company…Any company…”

Even a bad boy like him? Gee, didn’t he feel special. Any company, indeed. “I’ll think about it,” he told her. “‘Preciate the offer, though.”

“Of course. Free of charge, too.” She gave him a faint smile. “I mostly just want the company.”

Jesus, she was putting a chill on his erection, that was for sure. Shame, too. He liked her, and after all that flirting, he was feeling kinda riled up. Too bad that died an ugly death. He fell back to an old safeguard – teasing. “Free rooms? That’s no way to run a bed and breakfast.”

She sighed. “So I hear.”

CHAPTER THREE

Emily absently gazed at the contents of her baking pantry, trying not to let her bad mood ruin a perfectly good day of baking. The rolled oats and organic raisins on the shelf taunted her. She glared at them before pulling out chocolate chips instead.

Stupid Jericho. Stupid man. Stupid stupid.

Their date hadn’t gone swimmingly. Or at least, it seemed like it had until he’d kissed her. Then she’d gotten all freaked out, asked him to move in, babbled on about how she didn’t want him sexually, and then things kind of went south from there. She’d spent most of the movie shoveling greasy popcorn into her mouth and kicking herself mentally.

Why on earth had she told a man that she was out on a date with that she wasn’t ready for a relationship? Especially after he’d kissed her and her entire body had responded? She must be three kinds of stupid.

It was just…gosh. She hadn’t been on a date since college. What was that, seven years? And then she’d babbled on horribly about her ex, and got all weirded out by her own words. So yeah. When the movie ended, they’d driven back to her place and he’d dropped her off without even trying to come in.

So much for that.

He’d even chickened out of work the next day. Cited a ‘plumbing emergency’ for another client and asked if they could reschedule. Emily knew a blow-off as well as anyone, and didn’t give him a hard time about it.

But she’d be damned if she made him cookies.

And really, she could fix her own toilets. Eventually. Maybe after she stripped the wallpaper from the bathroom. There was no rush. She’d just add it to her laundry list of things that needed to be done. Her Victorian was pretty, but it required constant upkeep.

Someone knocked at the front door. Emily’s heart thumped. Maybe he’d come by after all? She rushed for the foyer…only to see her storky, crazy sister Luanne. Her hair was pulled up into two pink-and-blonde knots and she wore a pink tank top with jeans and no makeup. “Hey, Em! How’s it hanging? Thought I’d swing by for some java and eats before heading to work.”

“Hey, Luanne,” Emily said, forcing a smile to her face. “I’ll put on some coffee.”

“Don’t look so thrilled to see me,” Luanne teased, heading into the kitchen after Emily. “I can drink the station coffee if you’re busy. It just tastes a bit like tire treads is all.”

“You’re fine,” Emily said. She headed back into the kitchen and poured water into the coffee pot, then flipped it on. “I was just about to bake some chocolate chip cookies. Maybe.” She shrugged. “Maybe not. I haven’t decided.”

Luanne moved to Emily’s side and pressed a hand against her sister’s forehead. “Not baking? You? You feeling okay, kiddo?”

Emily snorted. “Don’t call me kiddo. I’m two years older than you.”

“Yeah, but I’m taller. And wiser. Now fess up. What’s bugging you?” Luanne smoothed Emily’s hair back over her shoulder and then went and sat down at the breakfast bar, her watchful gaze on her sister.

Darn Luanne for being so intuitive. Emily pulled out a pair of coffee cups and debated lying to her sister. Truth was easier, though. “I had a date last night.”

“Oh snap! Your first one since the big divorce. Who was it with?”

“Jericho Lozada. Handyman. He’s new to town.”

“I don’t know him, so he hasn’t been to the police station,” she said with a grin. “Cute?”

Emily thought of Jericho’s wild hair, his gorgeous smile and tight pants. “Real cute.”

“Clearly it did not go well, hence the funky mood? Closet douchebag? Skeezy sex-hound?”

Emily shook her head. “I kind of wish he had been a sex-hound. Didn’t even kiss me goodnight. I think I kind of killed the mood with mentioning my ex.” She grabbed the coffee pot out from under the drip and poured a cup. “And then I told him I wasn’t ready for a relationship. And then I offered for him to move in to the house in a purely platonic fashion because I needed company and not a relationship.”

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