Page 95 of Silver-Tongued Devil
Dakota spent the night, which was nice. Or necessary. Blake didn’t want to admit how much he’d missed her the past couple nights. How could you get that used to somebody in such a short time?
It was the life change, he decided. In his playing days, he’d never been around enough to get into that kind of habit.
And then there was breakfast out on the deck on Saturday morning, with her wearing one of his white dress shirts and absolutely nothing else. That was good in a whole different way.
He said, “I had a thought, darlin’, about that problem of yours.”
She smiled lazily at him and adjusted her legs a little more comfortably across his lap. Which meant that he had to adjust his hand a little more comfortably up her leg, too. A polite man kept his left hand off the table. She asked, “What problem is that? My orgasm deficiency? Good news. I’m cured.”
He gave her a slap on the thigh. “It’s a miracle. But we’ll keep after it. Complacency is the enemy of consistency.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you make that up?”
He thought about it. “I guess I did. I’m getting smarter every day. And here’s the problem I was thinking about. You want to get my house finished before you start up on the art, because you’ve got this annoying stubbornness about you.”
“Yep, I do like to fulfill my contracts. Call me crazy.”
“So how about if I help? Here we are, got the weekend. We could have a paint date. It’s probably a thing.”
“Except that you’re paying me to do it, andthat’swhat’s paying for my Glass Vacation.”
“Call it an apprenticeship. You know you’d love to boss me around.”
Which she did. Who knew that there was a right way and a wrong way to paint? He did, pretty much in the first hour. He got a whole lot messier than she did, too. His sole source of comfort was heading over to her ladder at noon and lifting her right off it. Which made her squeak, which was fun.
“Blake,” she protested. “I’mpainting.”
“Not anymore.” He set her down. “Drop that roller, baby.”
She put it in the pan, eyed him suspiciously, and said, “What?”
He already had her cap off and her overalls unfastened. “We’re getting naked and going for a swim break before lunch, that’s what. This is too much like hard work. Get that off.” He was pulling his paint-splattered T-shirt over his head and working his shorts down his hips and over his bare feet. “You’re falling behind, honey.”
“I’m not swimmingnaked,”she protested, but she didn’t sound too sure to him.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any neighbors real close by.” She was still working on her boots and socks, so he helped her out. Skinny little ribbed tank top, check. Bra, check. Overalls and thong, double check. “Now, see,” he said when she was naked, “If you had a prettier bathing suit, I’d let you wear it. Unfortunately, I’m stuck with naked.”
She had her hands on her hips. “Blake Orbison. I am not swimming naked with you.”
He sighed. “I didn’t want to have to do this, darlin’, but…” He lifted her again, and this time, he tossed her right over his shoulder.
Oh,yeah. She was squeaking some more, and he was heading out of the house and down the sloping lawn to the dock.
“We’re naked,” she was still moaning. “Oh, man.” Which was when he tossed her in.
So, yes, the weekend had its moments. And even with his painting deficiency, they managed to get through a whole lot of it. Enough so all she still had left to go by Sunday night was his entirely oversized game room. Two day’s worth, she’d told him, which was perfect. Deadline met.
This time, they ate dinner at Russell’s. And Blake was leaving Dakota there tonight, which he wasn’t one bit happy about.
“That’s a first,” Russell said, setting out another of those Russell-meals that said he’d never heard of fat grams. Enchiladas, refried beans, and guacamole. Russell’s version of world cuisine. “Never had the customer help with the painting before. Most of ’em would be a menace anyway.”
“Which he was,” Dakota had to put in. “Luckily, the horror is over.”
“Got to get back to work now, though,,” Blake said. “My ego’s too damaged anyway. I have to do something I’m good at. And starting Tuesday, things get crazy. Got a few football players showing up to give me some star power for my grand opening, or maybe just get some free room and board, and then my mom and dad are coming in from Virginia that afternoon. In fact, I had a couple thoughts about that while I was painting today. First one—most important one—is that I’d like you both to come over for dinner on Tuesday and meet them. The folks, not the players. I won’t tempt fate.”
He had to wait a few seconds, because Dakota was looking at her plate, then looking at him.
“They won’t bite,” he finally said, when the silence had stretched out too long. “It’s dinner. You can do dinner. No different from me sitting here with Russ. Which is—OK, it was a little scary at first, but I got over it.”
