Page 26 of Stick Break
“Okay Mom,” I shoot back, then grin as she shakes her head. “But hey, admit it, that was extremely manly.”
She lifts a brow. “Oh yes. My ovaries are in full revolt.”
That gets a real laugh out of me, deep and uncontrollable. “Was it the ‘ow, ow, ow’ part that did it for you?” I tease.
She leans forward just a little, her eyes sparkling. “That and the interpretive fire dance. Truly primal.”
I laugh again, and damn if it doesn’t feel like something’s shifting between us. Not a big moment. Just a little spark. A warm, flirty, dangerously tempting one.
I set the plate in the center of the table, steam curling upward as I peel open the foil. “Glad I could deliver, Charley.”
She leans in, eyes lighting up. “That looks so good.”
“Let’s hope it tastes as good as it smells.” I spear a generous piece of fish and slide it onto her plate, followed by a potato. She bends low and inhales, closing her eyes like she’s at a five-star restaurant instead of sitting barefoot in a folding chair.
“Speaking of Mom,” she says as I slice into my own potato, “Does your family still live in California? Are you guys close?”
“Yes and yes.” I scoop a solid dollop of butter. “As close as we can be, considering I’m in Boston.”
She grabs the salad tongs and helps herself before passing them my way. “Do they visit much?”
“Just once so far. I’ve only been there about a year. When I get a bigger place, I think they’ll come more often.”
A look flickers across her face, something wistful. Soft. It guts me a little. She’s not close with her family. Doesn’t have a real crew of friends, either. Damn. If she lived in Boston, the WAGs would adopt her on sight. But she doesn’t. And she’s not dating or engaged to any of the guys who would bring her into the circle. Weird how the thought of her with any of them makes me want to snap a hockey stick in half.
“You said Easton was older?”
“Yeah, I’m the baby.”
She smirks. “Biggest baby I’ve ever seen.”
“Damn, girl. All these compliments,” I say. “My ego just can’t handle it.”
She laughs, and the sound ripples right through me. “I mean that in the nicest possible way, of course.”
She takes a bite of the fish and moans—actually moans—and I forget how to breathe.
Fuck.
“Rip, this is so good.”
Fuck me again.
I clear my throat, trying to will away every X-rated image that just ambushed my brain.
“Glad you approve.” My voice is a little rough. “Want seconds or a cigarette?” I tease.
She chokes on a laugh, cheeks turning pink. “Wow. Look at you. One perfectly grilled fish and you think you’re Gordon Ramsay in a romance novel.”
I grin. “Hey, I didn’t hear a no.”
“You’re right.” She licks her shiny lips. “I’ll probably have second. I haven’t tasted anything this good in ages.”
I focus on the tomato in my salad, needing something—anything—to distract me from the way she just licked her lips. I stab the tomato a little too hard. It explodes. Juice hits me right on the cheek.
Perfect.
A groan escapes me before I can stop it. Thankfully, I can blame it on the damn produce instead of the image currently playing on loop in my head—Charley, licking her lips while I have my mouth on her body.
