Page 6 of Our Secret Summer

“Lunch is ready.” Dylan threw in a wide smile as well. God, what a woman. Connor might be pissed off when he found out Dylan had lied about her trip, but he should still thank his lucky stars every single day for having a parent like Dylan. Raffo knew from experience that not every kid got that lucky.

“I might get my painting materials out later,” Raffo said. She’d been studying the spot Dylan had designated for that purpose all throughout lunch, and its appeal was increasing.

“Already?”

“Just to set up.” Raffo looked into Dylan’s kind eyes. “And don’t worry. I brought plenty of protective sheeting.”

“I’m not worried,” Dylan said. “The way I see it, any paint spatters left by Raffo Shah can only increase the value of this house.”

Raffo ignored Dylan’s comment. A paint stain on the porch was still a paint stain, no matter whose hand had left it there.

“Can that spot be screened off?” Raffo asked. “I can’t leave my paints and brushes exposed to the elements.” Raffo wasn’t too worried yet about any work she might produce, but she’d need a location for safekeeping that as well—later.

“Yep, that’s why I think it’s such an ideal place for you to work.” Dylan sent her a smile. “No pressure of course.”

Something went soft inside Raffo at the sight of another one of Dylan’s gentle, friendly smiles.

“Let me take you out tonight. To thank you.” Raffo smiled back.

“You don’t have to. Seriously. I should be thanking you for not telling Connor about me being here.” Dylan’s smile faded. “Besides, I don’t feel comfortable going out as long as I haven’t told Con. You never know who I might run into. News has a habit of traveling fast in places like this.”

“Fair enough. But I can at least pick us up a pizza or something. Please don’t feel as though you have to cook for me all the time.”

“That’s not how I feel.” The skin around Dylan’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Whether I make food just for myself or for both of us really doesn’t make a difference.”

“Okay.” Raffo nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” Dylan held a hand in front of her mouth as she suppressed a yawn. “Being here on my own the past two weeks has made me accustomed to an after-lunch nap.”

“A topless after-lunch nap, if I remember correctly.” And how could I ever forget, Raffo didn’t say out loud. While she deemed it appropriate to admire Dylan’s supreme physique from a safe distance, brazen flirting was far from proper behavior. She’d probably already said too much, although it was just a joke and it was such a pleasure to see Dylan break out into a chuckle like that in response.

“You got me,” Dylan said.

“I won’t walk in on you this time. I promise.”

“Good to know.” Dylan didn’t make to get up.

“It goes without saying that I’ll take care of the dishes and your kitchen will be spotless when you come down from your nap.” Raffo wasn’t too fond of doing dishes either—of any housework, really—but cleaning up after Dylan cooking for her hardly felt like a chore.

“Thank you.” Dylan rose from her chair.

Raffo’s gaze was immediately drawn to the smooth curve of her thighs, which were now at table level. She quickly cast her eyes upward. “Have an excellent nap.”

As Dylan walked inside the house, Raffo considered that just being able to think of Dylan as a smoking hot lady was infinitely better than the coldness that had settled inside her heart since Mia had dumped her. Moreover, it was perfectly innocent, just a little indulgence which, really, was to be enjoyed as much as possible just for the sheer miracle of it existing at all.

She cleared the table while trying very hard not to think of Dylan sleeping upstairs with her breasts bared to the crisp Big Bear air.

CHAPTER 7

For the past weeks, Dylan had been listening to financial advice podcasts, hoping to pick up some sort of miraculous tip that could help her make up for the money she’d lost. All these podcasts had accomplished, however, was to put her swiftly to sleep. As though her brain rejected any talk of money and chose to switch off at the sound of it.

As she crawled into bed, her AirPods already in her ears out of habit, she remembered an ad she’d seen recently—she couldn’t recall where—for steamy audiobooks read by big-name actors. She’d wondered at the time, perhaps prudishly, what times they were living in that this was now a thing. She can’t have been that uptight about it, however, because she had promptly downloaded the app, although she hadn’t listened to anything on it yet. She opened it on her phone and scrolled through the options.

Those really were some big names. Elisa Fox. Stella Flack. Brian Walsh and ooh, Ida Burton. For the life of her, Dylan could not resist Ida Burton. There had definitely been a time in her life when she’d wished she was Ida Burton, although, like every other person on the planet, Dylan hadn’t known that the magnificent Ida Burton had locked herself into a big, old Hollywood closet all that time. But none of that mattered anymore. Ida Burton was out and proud now and married to Faye Fleming. Dylan downloaded the story read by Ida Burton hoping for some sultry sapphic content to accompany her nap. Neither the app, nor the story, and least of all Ida, let her down.

Dylan didn’t sleep a wink—how could she with Ida Burton whispering sentences like that straight into her ears? She’d need to dive straight into the lake to cool off. She slipped into her bikini and headed downstairs.

What she saw there was even better than Ida’s sensual crooning in her ears.

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