Page 67 of Sweet Thing

A text came in from Rosie.

You ready for some action?

Me

No action. This is just a getting to know you kind of thing.

Rosie

You kidding? Rowan MacFarlane has the hots for you! When’s the last time you got any?

Two days ago. Did not end well.Of course I couldn’t tell Rosie. She’d let me have it for being a total fool.

Rosie

Because I know when. It was that British guy at the hostel in Bangkok. And MacFarlane is hotter than him!

My recollection was that the Brit and his friend had practically duked it out over Rosie and I was left with the loser. He’d fallen asleep before anything memorable happened, leaving me relieved and with plenty of time to concoct a story for my friend.All good, great orgasms!Her concern for my sexual health was a tad intense.

Me

Just a date. Don’t pressure me. And I’m wearing my granny panties, so nothing can happen.

Rosie

Okay. Okay. I just want you to be happy. And the sooner you get out there, the quicker that’ll happen.

This morning, we’d interviewed two more candidates for the nanny position. Neither came up to Lars’s lofty standards—one was too nervous, the other too confident—which meant I was on the hook for this temp gig for even longer. If I was to continue working for Lars, I needed to start looking elsewhere for company of the male variety, hence my reaching out to Rowan. I was going into this date with high expectations of success. After all, I wasn’t completely hideous. Lars Nyquist had used me as spank bank material once.

Armed with the confidence that knowledge gave me and ignoring the awkward aftermath, I headed downstairs. Outside the living room, I listened to Lars chatting with Mabel. As usual he was having deep conversations with her about hockey, which made me smile.

“See that guy? That’s Dan Fogerty, a semi-decent center but he’s not getting by me next Tuesday.”

Pause, while he weighed Mabel’s response.

“You think he’s better than me? Not sure where you’re getting your information. Because I could totally take that guy.”

Another pause.

“My stats are way better than his, sweetheart. Adeline told me so. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Super. Cute.

But then I remembered I was supposed to be mad at him, or at the very least neutral, because he had the common sense to stop that kiss but still thought it was a good idea to tell me how frustrated I made him. We weren’tthatfriendly.

I called out, “See you later!” When I pulled the front door open, it shut again without my input. A large hand spread flat against the oak.

I could scent him in my nostrils and that smell—cedar, citrus, what-the-fuck-Lars—made me weak at the knees. Annoyed with his effect on me, I turned.

Another smoldering gaze from him, this time dragging erotically against my skin, my breasts, my belly, which responded predictably and flipped like a dying fish.

“You’re all dressed up.” He took a step back and got a better look. “Going out with Rosie?”

“No. A date.”

The words should have meant nothing to him. After all, he’d made his position clear.

This. Can’t. Happen.

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