Page 13 of Rude Boss 2

“It’s just ice cream,” she says tickled. “Live a little.”

“All right. Just give me a scoop of vanilla.”

“On a regular cone,” Quintessa adds playfully.

She gives the woman her credit card to pay, and then we’re served our cones. We head over near the railing that overlooks the water. I do not want to eat this ice cream, so I stall by watching her. Instead of licking the two scoops, she opens her mouth wide and takes a bite off the top.

“What in the—?”

“What’s wrong?” she asks, looking at me.

“I’m trying to figure out what you’re doing to that ice cream.”

“Eating it.”

“You bite your ice cream?”

“I’m not biting it…just taking some off the top.”

“I know what I saw. You just bit some ice cream.”

“Hush, Essex. At least I’m eating. I don’t see you eating yours while you’re all up in my mouth.”

I grin to myself at her comment. I’d much rather be all up in her mouth instead of forcing myself to eat ice cream. I say, “Since you’re making me do this, I’ll show you how to properly eat ice cream. You hold the cone like this.”

“Like a microphone?” she asks, laughing.

I grin a little, then continue giving her instructions. “Then you stick out your tongue and touch it to the ice cream but rotate the cone to get the outside layer of melted ice cream in your mouth.”

“Oh, now you’re an expert. I thought you were anti-ice cream.”

“I am, but I still know how to properly eat it.”

“Well, I prefer my way, thank you very much.” She takes another swipe off the top.

“You like to bite. I suppose that’s a good thing.”

“Ugh…you’re such a man.”

I watch her take yet another bite off the top and shake my head. And yes, I’m still jealous. My ice cream is melting because I’m watching her eat. I bet I’d love ice cream if I could taste it off her lips. That would be the best ice cream in the world.

“What is wrong with you?” I hear her ask.

“What do you mean?”

“I just asked you how your day was and you’re just staring at me.”

“My bad. I was…thinking…about…something.”

About you.

“All right. Now that I have your attention, I’ll ask again. How was your day today?”

“I don’t know. I was trying to relax—take my mind off things.”

“How does a man like Essex DePaul relax? Oh, let me guess. You get private massages while your chef prepares your fancy meals?”

“I’ve done that many times, but no, that’s not my usual relaxation technique. I prefer nude swims in the gulf.”

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