Page 43 of Casita Casanova
Gripping a coffee mug in her hands, with her messy hair framing her face and her eyes wide, she watches me.
I give her a little wave, but she drops out of sight so quickly you’d think the floor just opened up and swallowed her whole.
I look down at my naked frame and give myself a mental pat on the back. Let’s just see if she can resist me now.
After I shit, shower and shave—all within a three-inch radius because that bathroom is smaller than a port-o-john—I dress in a white V-neck t-shirt and gray Armani joggers, pull on my new sneakers, then leave the shed. I close the door and jiggle the knob, realizing only then that there’s no lock on my front door.
Huh.
Oh well. The worst crime committed here is probably pairing sandals and socks. Or making pasta from a box and a jar, though, admittedly, dinner wasn’t half bad.
There has to be a coffee shop around here somewhere. A café Americano, maybe a bagel and lox…
Nodding at that great idea, I make my way down the cobblestone pathway, avoiding the urge to look at the house and search for Maryn in the windows. She caught a great show this morning, but I have to admit, this guy in a pair of gray joggers is nearly as good, so I hope she’s watching me leave and kicking herself for sending me away last night.
Time to get to know this little seaside ghost town and see what it has to offer. First, by way of breakfast and caffeine.
My go-to for clearing my mind is either working out or fucking, and since only one of those is an option, I click the gate closed behind me and take off in a sprint. When I leave the neighborhood, I head right, which Ithinkis south, and jog along the main road. On the other side of the street to my left is the brewery, dwarfing the tiny shops around it and reminding me that I have a job starting in a few hours. I chuckle to myself at the thought. If the old man could see me now. The wind in my face is cool against the sweat building up on my skin, and my lungs heave in that rewarding way I’ve come to crave. I pound the pavement, working in my new sneakers and working out some of the kinks in my back created by my living situation.
I miss my Eastern King bed and my Egyptian cotton sheets.
There’s not a chance in hell that I’d last here for six months. No fucking way.
As soon as my new Black Card shows up, I’m out of here. I’ll book a room somewhere swanky and spend the remainder of my exile sipping Cristal and fucking beach bunnies instead of bottle bunnies.
And if I’m discreet enough, it won’t even hurt my father’s good name.
I smile and incline my head to a few women sitting around a small bistro table as I pass a fresh juice bar, but the brunette with the curly hair makes me think of another brunette with curly hair and once again, my thoughts are on Maryn.
She’s a challenge, and I never back down from those.
I’ve pissed her offalmostas many times as I’ve made her look at me with lust in those pretty brown eyes, which feels like pretty good odds.
After about a mile, I turn around, unable to ignore my aching stomach any longer. I didn’t see a coffee shop, but I’ll grab some green juice to tide myself over and ask someone to direct me to the nearest caffeine distribution center.
Chapter Fourteen
Maryn
Pacing my small bedroom, I listen to Danielle lose her mind on the other end of the line.
“Like,howbig, Mar? I need details.”
Lucky for her, details I have in spades. Clear, vivid details. Two hours later, and that man’s naked, heaven-sent body is still burning a hole inside my mind, waiting for me anytime I close my eyes.
“Big, Dani.” I shake my head and fan myself, heating up all over again at just the mention of Cas and his… “It’s perfect. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“His body… or his dick?”
I sigh and plop back down onto the bed. “Both.”
“Oh my God. I knew it. I knew he’d be hot.” She laughs, muffling the phone with her hand, but I still hear her when she says, “Not as hot as you are, honey,” to her long-time boyfriend, Brett.
But Cas iswayhotter than Brett. They’re not even in the same league.
They’re not even playing the samesport.
“Okay, he’s jumping in the shower,” she whispers into the phone. “Describe it.”
