Page 49 of Casita Casanova
She lowers her voice when she says, “You know that smile is disarming. You know what message you’re sending with that look in your eyes.”
“What, that I’d knowexactlywhat to do with you?”
Her nostrils flare on a deep breath and I smile smugly.
Then she steps closer to me, closing the distance in a quick stride. “Careful, Cas.”
My gaze falls to her mouth.
“Two can play.”
I raise one eyebrow.
“And only one of us will be late for our shift.” She drops her gaze pointedly to my cock, then turns and finds an empty locker.
I think I’m in love.
Not really, obviously, but this little forced vacation might not be as bad as I expected.
I follow Maryn out to the front of the brewery, appreciating that extra swing in her hips.
Because I put it there.
Chapter Sixteen
Maryn
The afternoon flew by. I spilled as many beers as I served, but Greg seems really understanding and patient. And, luckily, it turns out that Tuesday afternoons are pretty quiet at Fast Lane Brewing.
When our four hours are up, Cas and I make our way home together in silence.
We’re both scheduled to work again tomorrow, but as he obviously took to his new duties a bit better than I did, he’s scheduled on the evening shift, while I’m scheduled again from one to four.
We reach the gate and he opens it, motioning for me to go ahead.
“Thank you,” I say as I pass him.
“I only do this so I can look at your ass.”
With a sigh, I push away the little thrill that admission gives me, then turn around. “This isn’t…” I shake my head. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t know me.”
He shrugs. “I’llgetto know you.”
“You’re only here for six months. Let’s just focus on work and do our own things the rest of the time.”
“I don’t have my own things, Maryn.”
The statement deflates my shoulders a bit. “Sure you do. What do you usually do back home?”
Something like regret flashes across his eyes, but then it’s gone and that cocky grin is back in place. “I go to nightclubs.”
I laugh. “Well, there are none of those around here.”
He cocks one eyebrow and looks around at the neighborhood. “Figured.” When he meets my gaze again, he says, “What do you do? What’s your thing?”
