Page 25 of South of The Skyway

“Oh man. I spent my senior year perfecting my beer-pong skills. You’re making me feel like I wasted my time. Good on you, Brex. That’s a hell of a head start. I’m all for young entrepreneurs.”

Scowling, I indignantly insisted, “We’re not that young.”

“I—uh—not gonna lie, at Three Leaf, I figured you were my age, maybe a few years younger. But if you signed here your senior year, you’re…what? Twenty-four?”

“Twenty-five.”

I couldn’t help but laugh when Rhyett winced, palming his face dramatically. “You’re killing me here, Brex.”

“What?” I squeaked defensively.Good job, Brexley, squeak again. That will help.He rested his forehead against his fingers, looking at me through a set of dark lashes. Feeling the need to reassure him for some damned reason, I added, “Don't worry, I've been legal for quite some time now. How the hell old are you? Can’t be over thirty.”

“Pretty girl, I was starting middle school the year you were born.”

“Oh, you were not.”

He nodded solemnly, “As certain as the sunrise.”

Sucking down a breath, I glanced sidelong, looking for the girls. They would be positively feral when they found out I’d slept with an older man. The bronze of his skin and lack of wrinkles had me permanently suspended in disbelief. Hell, I had smile lines deeper than he did. “There’s no way you’re thirty-five.”

He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he said, “Fate is a cruel bastard.”

“You have a rule against doing a younger woman?”

“Younger? Nah. But there’s gotta be a line somewhere.”

Laughing despite myself, I shook my head. “Too little too late, Alaska. I think we crossed it.”

“This doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it? Age is just a number, and lucky for you, I've always been good at math.” When he only sucked on a tooth, some strange tangle of lust and guilt in his eyes, I insisted, “I wanted you, you wanted me. And I’m a woman that enjoys getting what I want. Ipso facto.”

Rhyett studied me for a long moment, eyes uncharacteristically serious before they finally softened. “Alright. I think you’re letting me off the hook too easily, but I’ll allow it.”

“Not prone to flagellating yourself, I hope?”

“Haven’t given myself much reason to before,” he gestured vaguely at the space between us. On the tail end of a sigh, he pointedly changed the subject. “So, what inspired the literary cafe?”

“We’re proud smut sluts and—”

Rhyett practically choked on his first sip of coffee, his eyes watering. I wasn’t sure if he’d scalded himself or attempted to inhale it when I’d said —

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Smut slut?”

I grinned. “We read spicy books.”

“Spicy…books?”

“You know—romance, with flavor.”

Confusion drew a V between his brows before understanding dawned. His lips parted in surprise for only a beat before he grinned again. “Ahh, okay, I’m with you. Jeanne and Elora both love those stories.”

“Sisters?”

“Yeah. Jeanne’s the leader of the rat pack, Elora’s four years younger than me.”

“How do you keep track?” I took a sip, savoring the dark blend, admiring the hint of cocoa undertones.

He shrugged as his phone audibly vibrated for the third time in as many minutes. “Jeanne travels—mission work, Doctors Without Borders, that kind of stuff—Elora is like the designated family know-it-all,” he said, chuckling before adding, “She’s actually a life coach.” His face softened noticeably, little smile lines pinching the skin by his eyes affectionately. “She’s a peach. They both love to read. I mean. Most of the girls do.” He took another sip and grimaced before he seemed to catch himself. I stuffed down the laugh, trying to climb up my windpipe.

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