Page 18 of Seductress

“Here. Let me help.”

I looked up just as Ford closed in, reaching out to take the containers of food before I dropped them. “Thanks.” With my hands free, I fixed the strap and slid it back into place. “That’s twice in, what? Three days? Is this whole sneaking up on me going to become a habit?” I asked in a teasing voice as I beeped the lock on my car and stuffed the keys in my bag.

He shrugged a beautifully rounded shoulder. “What can I say? I’m stealthy.”

We started down the sidewalk, side by side, toward Owen and Asher’s, and I allowed myself just a short moment to ogle the man from the corner of my eye. His chocolate brown hair looked like he’d spent the day running his hands through it, and it definitely wasn’t a bad look. I wasn’t sure what kind of special power men had when it came to finding the perfect jeans, but I’d never seen Ford in a pair that didn’t do incredible things for his muscular thighs and delicious ass. His tee molded to his strong shoulders and well-defined chest and hung looser on his tapered chest and flat stomach. More than once I’d fantasized about what he looked like without a shirt on. Hell, I’d gotten lost in thought more than once, trying to picture him naked. The navy cotton made the bright blue of his eyes stand out, even under the bright midday sun.

He really was a gorgeous man.

Before he could catch me staring, I shifted my focus down the sidewalk, watching my daughter as she ran up Owen’s driveway and swerved off toward the back gate.

“Well, you keep popping up at the right time, so I should be thanking you.”

He lifted the containers, peering through the clear plastic walls to the contents inside. “Are those your blondies? The same ones you sell at the pizzeria occasionally?”

I laughed at the excitement in his eyes. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. “They are,” I confirmed. My blondies were known all through town. Back when I’d had the time, I’d make giant batches at home, then sell the individually wrapped treats at the register at Junior’s. Once I sold out, I’d take every dollar I earned and give it all to different places around town: the high school, the police department, or the local animal shelter. I’d raised pretty good money, but as I started taking on more and more responsibilities at the restaurant, I couldn’t find the spare hours in the day to bake such large quantities. Instead of preparing them once a week, I was lucky to have the time to make them once a month.

“My god, these things are incredible. I’m glad I spotted you when I did. Would have been a damn shame if you’d dropped these. I might have cried.”

“Look at you, the savior of the day,” I teased. “Saving little kitties from trees and sugar squares from the cruel, dangerous sidewalk.”

He grumbled a string of curses under his breath. “For God’s sake. Is that ever gonna go away? It’s not like wewantto chase the bitchy animals of Satan up trees. We have to take the calls that come in. That little shit scratched me all to hell by the time I got it back down the tree.” He shook his head. “Fucking hate cats.”

My head fell back on a loud laugh. I bumped my shoulder against his once I had hold of myself. “That’s small town living for you. You should be used to it by now.”

“I am used to it,” he said on a pout, anddamn it, he even managed to pout sexy. Ridiculous, yes. But still sexy as hell. “But maybe it would take a bit of the sting out if it wasn’t thrown in my face every other day.”

I reached out and patted his arm like I would Hazel if she was whining about something. “You’re a big, strong man. I’m sure you’ll survive a little good-natured ribbing.”

He stopped at the base of Owen and Asher’s driveway. “So you think I’m big and strong, huh?” The smirk lifting one corner of his lush mouth was downright panty-melting. It was a smirk I’d grown familiar with when he’d first moved to town, one that made me think there was a chance for... I don’t know,something. I knew better now. That was why the sight of that smirk stung so damn bad.

“You know you’re good looking. You don’t need me to stroke your ego,” I said flatly. Instead of giving him what he wanted and flirting back like I used to, both of us enjoying the hell out of that fun back and forth playful banter, I turned and resumed my journey toward my brother’s backyard.

I cleared the gate, noticing that Hazel had already located her uncle and was currently sitting on his shoulders, laughing like she didn’t have a care in the world. Before I was home free, I heard Ford’s feet crunching across the new sprouts of fresh spring grass as he picked up his pace to catch up with me. “Hey, hold up. Did I say something wrong?”

I pasted a smile on my face as I took the containers from his hands and started moving in the opposite direction. “Nope, not at all,” I said, hoping my tone didn’t sound as phony as it felt. I wished I didn’t still have feelings for the man who’d all but rejected me, that I could turn off that part of my brain or whatever the driving force behind the attraction was. It would have made things so much easier, especially in times like this when that fun, flirty side that had drawn me in so deeply four years ago came out to play. “Thanks for the assist. Have a good time.”

I spun around and winced as I moved to the open sliding glass door that led into the kitchen. “Have a good time?” I grumbled under my breath. “Ugh. What the hell is wrong with me? You’re so freaking lame, Hardin,” I chastised as I set the containers down on the island with a heavy plop.

“Hey, no you’re not,” Asher said, coming around the corner from the living room. “At least not all the time.” She shot me a wink as she came over and pulled me into a tight hug that I gladly returned. I didn’t know when my brother was planning on popping the question, but I couldn’t flippin’ wait. Asher was the sister I never had but always wanted. She loved my brother unconditionally, but still joined me in teasing him relentlessly whenever we were together.

“Hey, lady. Sorry we’re late. I was hoping to get here early to give you a hand with setup, but you see how that turned out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she assured me. “All I did was dump chips into bowls and stick spoons into dip containers, nothing fancy. It didn’t take any time.” She moved to the fridge and pulled it open, taking out two beers. She twisted off the caps and passed one to me. “So, what makes you so lame?”

“Oh, nothing,” I answered, then quickly changed the subject. “I made blondies.” I shoved the Tupperware container in her direction, eliciting a squeal of excitement. It was a dirty move, but what Asher didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. She was my sister from another mister, sure, but that didn’t mean I’d confided in her about my painful crush on a certain hot firefighter. If she had any clue how I felt, she’d take it upon herself to play matchmaker, and there was no point. It was never going to happen.

“Yes!” she hissed as she popped the lid off the container and snatched one. “I was hoping you’d make these. I didn’t want to ask because I know how busy you’ve been, so this is a pleasant surprise.” She finished the rest of the blondie and hooked her arm through mine, using her hold to turn me around and guide me back outside. “Let’s join the party. There’s someone here I want you to meet.”

My head fell back on a pained groan as Asher pulled me back into the sunlight and dragged me down the steps off the deck and into the yard.

“Don’t be a little B. He’s a really nice guy. I know him personally, so I can vouch for him.”

I cut my eyes at her. “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t exactly have faith in you. I’ve heard the stories from the other women at the club. You ladies don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to setting each other up.”

There was a running joke at Whiskey Dolls, the club Asher, Sloane, and a bunch of my other friends danced at. I wasn’t a Whiskey Doll myself, but when Asher had hooked up with Owen and I became friends with them, they’d given me the title of Honorary Doll. I was one of them, just less talented, physically. The women had a track record of setting each other up on the worst blind dates, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to go horribly wrong. And now it appeared as though it was my turn on the chopping block.

“Oh, hush. Not all of those blind dates turned out bad.”

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