Page 47 of Bad For Me (Rock Canyon, Idaho 5)

After pulling up next to Everett’s truck, Callie got out of the Jeep and stared up at the simple modular home that was so different from the two ranch houses nearby. She’d never seen Everett’s home in the daylight, but the brown house with the wooden front porch suited him. It wasn’t fancy, but it was homey and welcoming. Especially with the big oak in the front yard that held their swing.

Their swing? Now when had she started thinking of it that way?

After retrieving Ratchet, Callie headed up the short stoop to his front door. She had hardly knocked when Everett opened the door, but Callie forgot to lower her arm anyway. He was obviously in the middle of changing his shirt, his hard, washboard stomach exposed as he held the door open.

“Sorry, I was trying to clean up quickly.” He yanked the gray cotton shirt all the way down over that delicious, golden skin, and Callie closed her mouth, swallowing, embarrassed that she had been mere seconds from drooling.

“It’s okay.”

“Food’s in here.” He stepped back to allow her inside, and she studied the interior of the modular. It was an open setup, but the worn, dark brown couches, solid oak kitchen table, and other masculine touches made it seem lived in. Under the smell of cheeseburgers coming from the fast-food bag and the cedar smoke in the fireplace, she could smell Everett’s clean, subtle cologne, and she licked her lips.

“I like your place,” she said.

“Thanks.” He stooped, grabbed something off the ground, and threw it toward the trash. “Sorry for the mess, but it’s usually just my brother and dad who come over.”

“It’s fine, believe me. You should see my place.”

He gestured toward the table, and she sat down, her hand on the clip of Ratchet’s collar. “Do you mind if I let Ratchet off leash? He’s potty trained.”

“Of course.”

She unclipped Ratchet’s leash to let him explore.

“Do you want a Coke?”

“A Coke would be great.”

Everett got up, and she opened the lid of her lunch, eyeing the diner burger and fries hungrily.

“You look like you’re starving.” Everett held out the red can. “Do you want a cup with ice?”

“No, that’s okay,” she said, taking the can. “Actually, I don’t even keep mine refrigerated.”

Everett paused halfway into his chair. “You mean you like warm soda?”

“Yeah, why?” She knew what was coming and bit back a smile.

“That’s fucking nasty.”

Callie choked on the fry she’d just bitten into as she laughed. “You eat processed cheese. I wouldn’t be casting any stones, if I were you.”

“No, but seriously, how can you? That’s like warm beer!”

“I’ve just always liked it that way,” she said.

“Weird.” Everett flipped open his container and sighed. “God, I love Jensen’s. Not every diner knows how to make a bacon burger.”

Callie took a bite of her own burger, the juicy meat and zing of mustard doing the rumba on her tongue. When she swallowed, she shrugged, just to be a pill. “You obviously haven’t been to In-N-Out Burger.”

“Actually, I have,” Everett said, taking her by surprise, “and I still say Jensen’s is better.”

“That’s ballsy.” She munched on another French fry. “So, when did you have In-N-Out?”

“When I graduated from Camp Pendleton.”

Callie had been to Camp Pendleton once for a cousin’s Marine Corps graduation, and they’d spent the rest of the weekend at a San Diego hotel so her mom could get drunk at the hotel bar. She hadn’t even gotten to see Legoland or Sea World before they’d headed home. “How did you l

ike California?”

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