Page 4 of Whatever Lola Wants

Grant snickered, Anna sighed, and Simon eyed her with interest.

“Nobody’s banging and nobody’s watching,” Anna said firmly.

“Selfish,” Lola accused.

“Just for that,” Anna informed Lola as she slipped out of Grant’s arms, “you get to chop the onions.”

Lola winced. “Good thing my mascara is waterproof.”

Lips twitching, Anna handed over a chef’s knife and an onion. Resigned, Lola began to peel.

“Lola, did you fall down?”

“Hmm?” Lola glanced over her shoulder to see Grant frowning, his eyes on her backside. She had a moment of confusion before she remembered. “Oh. Yeah.” She twisted to frown at the scuffs on the back of her skirt. “Big Dick Hastings here plowed into me on the sidewalk,” she said and had the pleasure of watching his face turn to stone.

“I bumped into her,” Simon growled. “Lightly.”

Grant turned to his friend. “You put her on her ass?”

Anna came around the counter to peer at Lola’s butt. “Are you okay?”

“Sure,” Lola said easily, sliding the knife into the onion and quartering it. “My skirt got the worst of it.”

“Maybe the stain will come out.” Anna turned away, then saw the fist-sized bruise coming up on Lola’s upper arm. “Did you get that from falling?”

Lola glanced at it, then turned back to the onion. “No, that’s from my workout. Marcello threw me around a bit today.”

Anna shook her head. “I don’t know how you can do that.”

“Different strokes.” She swiped at her eyes as the onion went to work on her tear ducts. “How big do you want these onion chunks?”

Anna gave Lola’s arm a last glance before walking back to her cutting board. “An inch or so. I’m doing kababs.”

“I’m doing kababs,” Grant reminded her. “Grilling is my job, remember?”

Anna didn’t roll her eyes, but she looked like she wanted to. “Fine. Go make manly noises over your grill.”

Grant looked at Simon. “Wanna go make manly noises?”

“What qualifies as a manly noise?”

“Grunting. Burping.”

Simon grunted. “If I’m going to burp, I’ll need beer.”

“Got you covered.” Grant walked around the island to snag two long-necked bottles out of the fridge. Hooking them in one hand, he gave Anna a sharp smack on her ass on the way back.

“Hey!”

“That was for rolling your eyes,” he told her.

She narrowed the eyes in question. “I didn’t roll my eyes.”

“You thought about it,” he countered and opened the French doors leading to the backyard. Simon followed, laughing into his beer.

“You can’t smack me for thinking!” she hollered at him as the door closed.

Grant stuck his head back in. “I just did. C’mon on, Henry.”

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