Page 41 of Never Say Yes To Your Brother's Best Friend

Chapter thirteen

Rick

Holy dick.

I think that might be my new favorite holy anything to use. It’s pretty good. Holy balls, amazeballs, cheeseballs, all the balls are pretty good too. Anyway, holy all the balls, I’m here at the grocery store. It might be against my will, but I’m here, and that says something. It doesn’t mean I’m going soft.

I chose to wait in the car while Aspen went in. She’s still in there getting some kind of chicken or other. Maybe she sensed she could ask me for anything after the amazing sex, but it wasn’t that. Truthfully, if she needed me to do something for her, I’d do it. I just don’t want her to know that. I don’t want to admit it to myself. I don’t like feeling this way. I don’t even know what it is I’m feeling, and not being able to name it rankles. I shouldn’t be feeling anything at all. Isn’t life so much easier when you do it sans emotions?

I people-watch in order to stop thinking about all of that.

However, I still know the exact second Aspen emerges from the store, looking like a golden angel, literally, since she has a flowy white dress on, and her hair is pulled back at the temples while the rest is down.

I pop the trunk, and she puts the paper bag in.

She’s quiet when she slips into the passenger seat.

“Did you get what you needed?” I ask.

The faint hint of a smile on her lips makes my dick replay the shower scene and the not-shower scene, and I’m in danger of having a trapped dick again. I don’t want to replay that. Rolling on the ground and feeling like I’d been gut-punched and scrotum-punched at the same time wasn’t fun at all.

“Yeah, I did.”

“So we can go home now?” I don’t know why she’s so amused and why her eyes are sparkling like wildflowers after a fresh rain. I don’t know why that makes my chest pinch as badly as it does.

“We can go home now.”

I crank the car into reverse and peel out of the parking lot like it’s the grocery store’s fault that I’m going all haywire on the inside. I manage to get a few miles down the road, heading back home—I apply that term to the house lightly, as it’s never been a true home to me—before the smell hits.

“What the good heavens is that ungodly smell?” I jerk the car down a side road and park in front of a row of houses. Aspen is very, very quiet, but she’s doing that thing where she’s trying not to laugh.

I get out, race around to the back of the car, and jerk open the trunk.

The smell is strong here, and it hits me all at once. It’s ungodly, but it’s not ungodly bad. It’s ungodlygood. Nothing should smell that good. Nothing. She’s clearly bought something unnatural.

I rummage through the paper bag until I find the offending offender.

It comes in a plastic container—black on the bottom, with a clear dome overtop.

I rip the dome off and cast it aside. Now, the smell is real, and it makes my mouth water. I can’t remember ever feeling this hungry. This thing is a witch in disguise.

Rotisserie chicken.

I can’t help myself. Right there in the middle of suburbia land, I tear off a drumstick. The skin is crispy and perfectly seasoned, a light golden brown. I tear it straight off the meat. It’s still so hot, so good, and I can’t eat it fast enough. When I’m done, the bone gets tossed back into the container before I attack the other drumstick. It doesn’t come off cleanly, but that’s not a problem. I just toss the bone away, pull the meat off the bird, and stuff big chunks in my mouth.

This might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Ever.

I can only say that because I haven’t tasted Aspen. Not there. Not yet.

Wow, look at me. Ravaging a rotisserie chicken straight out of the car’s trunk, thinking thoughts I can’t control, having a good night’s sleep, and coming at least three times this morning. Who the hell am I right now?

A door shuts, and Aspen appears in my peripheral. She looks absolutely delighted by this development.

Though I’m not sure which one. The chicken or the sex.

I might not be sure about that, but I am sure this is a good day. It’s a day I want to do again and again. With her. Is that on the table? I have no idea. I’ve never felt so out of control.

“Darn rotisserie chickens.” She grins at me as I remove half the breast and start munching on it. “They’re pretty much impossible to resist, aren’t they? I’m sure they’re enough to drive anyone mad. No one can wait. They’re that fragrant. They’re torturous beasts all the way home. Plus, they’re great. They’re so versatile. You can make them into anything and eat them onanything. They drive pets mad too. Dogs and cats alike. Believe me, I know. I’ve been over at friends’ houses, and I’ve seen how their pets react.” Her eyes sweep over me. “Pretty much like that.” My face heats up. What am I even doing? I could say the sex worked up a real appetite, but really? Am I really going to go there? Me, who is known for my uncompromising self-control? “Don’t worry.” She pats my arm. “I think you’re adorable.” She pauses. Her smile gets a tad bit evil, and my cock leaps at the sight of it. It knows what she’s thinking. “And about as delicious as that chicken.”

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