Page 8 of Whatever Lola Wants

Lola sat back from the table with a sigh. “That hit the spot.”

Grant eyed the pile of kabob sticks on her plate. “Sure you got enough?”

“I like red meat,” she told him, unoffended. She’d always had a hearty appetite and a high metabolism, but it had kicked up a notch in the six months she’d been training with Marcello.

Anna rose to clear the table. “I hope you like cherry pie just as much.”

“If she doesn’t, I’ll take hers,” Simon put in, savoring his third beer.

Lola narrowed her eyes at him. “Hands off my cherry.”

He choked on the beer while Grant roared with laughter.

“Perverts, every last one of you,” Anna admonished with a mock glower as she gathered up plates.

Grant snorted out a laugh. “I think you’re forgetting that everyone around this table knows exactly how kinky you are.”

Anna stuck her tongue out at him, then shrieked when he snagged her hand and yanked her down to his lap. “Hey!”

Lola rescued the pile of plates from Anna’s hands while the dog slipped out from under the table in search of falling food.

Hands freed, Anna used them to try to wriggle free while Grant wrestled her into his lap. “I have to go get the pie.”

“In a minute,” he told her. “I think we need to work out some of this bad girl first.”

Anna thrashed as Grant flipped her face down in his lap. “You can’t spank me outside!”

“Says who?”

“It’s a local city ordinance,” Anna said, giggling, then howled when Grant’s hand cracked on her jeans clad butt. “Ow!”

“We’ll get the pie,” Lola offered, pitching her voice above the slaps and squeals. She piled silverware on the plates and jerked her chin at Simon. “Give me a hand, Hastings.”

He set down his beer and rose. He grabbed a couple of empty bowls and followed Lola into the house, closing the door before the dog could follow them in.

He set the dishes on the counter and looked around. “Where’s the pie?”

“Got it,” Lola said, already pulling it out of the oven where it had been waiting on warm.

He leaned over her shoulder to sniff. “That smells good.”

“Can you find some forks and plates?” Lola asked, and he turned to hunt through the cupboards.

He found the forks easily enough, but the plates proved more difficult. He opened every cupboard with no luck. “No plates.”

“They have to be here somewhere,” she muttered, then looked at the unpacked boxes stacked against the wall. “Like in that box says ‘dessert plates’.”

Simon eyed the box, sitting on the bottom of a stack that reached halfway to the ceiling. “I’m not digging through all that.”

“Me neither.” The pie in her hands, she headed for the door. “Grab the forks.”

He opened the door for her, and she strode out onto the patio. Suppressing a snicker when she saw Grant and Anna had moved from spanking to making out, she set the pie carefully on the table, then resumed her seat.

Simon sat next to her and handed her a fork. The dog, hoping for his share, bellied under the table as they dug in.

Lola had her mouth full when Grant finally stopped kissing Anna and spotted them. “Hey, save some for me.”

“Grab a fork,” Simon mumbled and passed him one.

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