Page 47 of Flirting with the Scrooge

“You never got to ask me a question.”

“Truth or dare?” I ask, but then I answer for her. “Dare.” The corners of my mouth twitch. “I dare you to spread your legs and let me feast on your pussy.”

Wordlessly, she takes a step back until her knees hit the edge of the built in tile bench, then she falls to her butt. I lower myself to my knees, lift her leg over my shoulder, and get to work drawing another orgasm out of her.

After our shower we crawl into her bed. Her limbs are wrapped around me, with her cheek resting on my chest.

“What was your question? If I would have said truth.”

She exhales a playful laugh. “What’s your favorite sexual position?”

I slowly shake my head. I could have picked truth but jumping in the snow was more fun. Especially the shower afterward. My hand slides over her bicep, pulling her close. “Any and all of them as long as they’re with you.”

We continue to lay in the dark. A sliver of moonlight shines through the curtains. Eventually her breathing evens out, turning into soft snores. Her sleeping in my arms is oddly comforting. I never expected to fall this hard and this fast for her. I brush my thumb over the apple of her cheek. Her eyelashes flutter, but she doesn’t wake. I press a kiss to the top of her head and whisper into the dark. “I’m falling in love with you.”

TWENTY-TWO

IN BED WITH A ROCK STAR

Tatum

With one arm crossed over the other, I take a sip my cup of hot cocoa with extra mini marshmallows as I stare out my living room window, watching Connor shovel a path down his driveway and to the sidewalk. Any time there’s more than an inch of snow, he’s outside shoveling. I’m not complaining because then I get this view and I swear he purposely bends over right in my line of sight.

I had another amazing night with Connor. I don’t want to jinx it and say I could be falling for him, but I could be falling for him. Gah! He’s always on my mind. Even when I’m not thinking about him, I’m thinking about him. Earlier, I was flipping through the pages of a Minnesota Bride magazine, not looking for wedding ideas, but ideas for expanding our event coordinator business, and I saw an ad with a guy wearing a flannel coat. Immediately, I thought of Connor. Or when “Don’t Let Me Down” played on a TV commercial, I thought of Connor. Even when he’s not here, he’s here.

Truth or dare last night was fun. I can’t remember the last time I did something so wild and spontaneous. If I had to guess, it was in college and a group of us went skinny dipping at a closed park. When we saw the red and blue flashing lights everyone scattered like cockroaches to sunlight. Some people swam to the weeds, while others hid under the dock. The joke was on us when several minutes later a tow truck arrived and hauled my car away. After the park was cleared, everyone swam to shore and collected their clothes on the beach. Luckily, we followed a path through the woods and found some campers. After explaining what happened and a twenty-dollar bribe, they gave us a ride back to our friend’s house.

While jumping in the snow wasn’t as reckless, it was liberating. It was like the cold was expelling everything holding me back, Adam being the biggest thing. Then the warmth brought me to Connor.

As I pass the kitchen I grab a garbage bag from the pantry, then make my way to my bedroom. With the plastic bag in hand, I open my closet. I yank two hoodies off their hangers and stuff them into the bag. I continue rifling through the closet and then my bedroom for anything else that once belonged to Adam. Lastly, I pull open the nightstand drawer. A black picture frame sits face down on top of some books. Reaching inside, I lift it out and without turning it over, I drop it inside. Once everything is collected, I tie the top into a knot and deposit it into the garbage can in the garage.

When I return to the living room, Connor’s no longer on the sidewalk but now in his driveway. He’s the only person I know that can make shoveling look sexy. Parisa’s car pulls into my driveway, drawing my attention away from Connor. Once she’s parked, she stares across the street, eyeing my new neighbor.

Same. Girl. Same.

She spins around and I wave at her through the window, and she mouths “Wow”. A few seconds later she’s strolling through the front door, eyes wide, jaw nearly dragging on the floor.

“Holy shit!”

“I know. You should see him when he’s chopping wood.”

She tugs her coat off and hangs it up on a hook on the wall. “No. That’s not it. Do you know who your neighbor is?”

“Uh. Yeah. Connor Tyler.” I stare at her like she has two heads. I’ve been the one living across the street from him for three weeks.

“No. I’m pretty sure your neighbor is Connor James.”

“And…?” Apparently, that name should be significant somehow, but I’m clueless.

“Connor James. The frontman for Onyx Stone.” She says the last two words slow and deliberate, as if I should know who that is.

“The name sounds vaguely familiar, but other than that I have no idea who they are.”

She tugs me to the window where Connor is still shoveling. “They’re a local band who hit it big a few years back.” She types away on her phone and pulls up a picture and holds it out to me.

I rip the phone from her hand and tilt my head, studying the picture. “No. That’s not him. No way.” Parisa stares at me, eyebrows raised. I glance down at the phone screen again. “I mean. They have similar features. Same build. But no way they’re the same.”

She taps the screen, enlarging the picture. “Remove the beard and they’re the same person.”

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