Frisky Business (Kinky Chronicles, #5)

by Jodi Redford

  Sunny beat him to the punch. “I’m getting a purple room!”

  “Ooooh, exciting,” Jane crooned. “I can’t wait to see it when it’s done.”

  “We’re hoping you’re up for a trip to Home Depot with us later after you get off work.” He cleared his throat and dug for the most casual tone he could muster. “If you’re not busy or anything.”

  “Are you kidding? As if I’d turn down a trip to Home Depot. Their hot dogs are even better than the ones at the Costco food court.”

  “I’ll have to take your word there.”

  “Are you saying you’ve never had a Home Depot hot dog? It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

  He rolled his left shoulder, easing out the kinks with a grin as her mock disbelief washed over him. There was no such thing as a conversation with her that didn’t make him feel like he was wakeboarding on pure exhilaration. Undoubtedly there were times she drove him insane, but it was the best kind of craziness. “Guess I’ll have to eat two of their hot dogs to get back in your good graces.”

  “Nah. It’ll take at least three.”

  He didn’t know what he’d require more of tonight—an industrial-sized bottle of Tums...or massive amounts of willpower to resist falling further under her spell.

  ~*~

  Going anywhere with Jane was a wild adventure. The zoo and grocery shopping should have given him a decent preview of that reality. Though truthfully, there was no preparing for the World of Jane. Aisle Nine was probably his favorite stop. She talked him and Sunny—without much arm-twisting—to don ventilation tubing so the three of them could wage an epic wiggly slap fight. The few customers who had the misfortune of wandering down the aisle gave them a wide berth. Absolutely worth their side-eye treatment. Hell, he’d risk getting kicked out of the store just to experience the joy of Sunny’s shrieking laughter as Jane stalked her, chanting, “Danger, danger, Will Robinson,” at the top of her lungs.

  The woman was one-hundred-percent certifiably nutso.

  At the end of the aisle, Sunny turned the tables on Jane and locked her in a tube-armed hug around the knees. The two of them shuffled back his way, resembling a weird science experiment gone wrong. He shook his head. “Someone contact SyFy. Think we have their next mega hit on our hands.”

  “Plumber Kraken Vs. Robo Girl?” Her eyes sparkling, Jane extended her left tube-arm toward his face. “You’ve got a hair out of place. Let me get that for you.”

  He offered her a droll look as she repeatedly whopped the side of his head. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “Immensely. There, got it. Darn pesky hair. Well, I suppose we should do something useful and way less cool, like look for paint.” Sighing, she removed her makeshift tentacles and returned them to the rack. Taking her cue, he freed himself of his plastic appendages before helping Sunny with hers. Their trio made their way to the appropriate department. Jane immediately got to work picking out color samples. An odd pressure squeezing his chest, he watched her and Sunny snuggle close together while they sorted through the cards.

  Jane and Ava were polar opposites when it came to Sunny. Not that Ava wasn’t a good mother, much as he’d love to say otherwise. But there was a certain impatience she exuded at times. She’d never calmly scour through paint options, much less appear thrilled to be doing so. Shit, she wouldn’t be standing in a Home Depot store at six o’clock on a Friday night to begin with. Why, when she could hire an interior designer to take care of something she’d only view as tedious?

  And there might be the key explanation for the vast difference between Jane and his ex in this regard. Jane had wanted to be a decorator at one time. It made complete sense she’d be enjoying herself tonight.

  Then again, he was quickly discovering that Jane possessed an innate ability to find joy in even the smallest and strangest of things. He absolutely adored that about her.

  She glanced up at him, her smile sucker punching him square in the solar plexus. “Can I help with the actual painting?”

  He was no idiot who’d say no to that offer. “Of course, but you do realize painting isn’t the most thrilling activity on the planet?”

  “Depends on who you’re doing it with,” she shot back with a wink.

  Put in that light, her philosophy could easily apply to everything. Watching the damn paint dry with her would probably be exciting beyond words. Which presented a big ass complication, seeing how he was supposed to be doing the right thing and putting the brakes on. Not looking for reasons to spend more time with her.

  Before he could open his mouth to shoot off a reply, Sunny stuffed her wad of color cards into her short’s pocket and tucked her tiny fingers over Jane’s. The pair continued holding hands while they searched for more samples.

  The pressure behind his sternum intensified. This must be what it felt like standing on the sidelines of an impending train wreck. The warning whistle blared in his ears but he was powerless to brace for the impact. It was impossible. A mere mortal stood no chance against the unstoppable, mesmerizing power of Jane.

  All he could do was pray there’d be some pieces left of him after the wreckage.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Despite its relatively small space, the Floating Cork’s enclosed rear garden managed to accommodate fifty or so of Marissa’s and Trig’s closest friends. Wine and laughter flowed with equal ease, verifying the shindig’s raging success. Struggling to keep her grin under wraps, Jane slid Jack a sidelong glance. “I’m really glad I suggested this couples party.”

  He grunted. “Your faulty memory disorder is... interesting, to say the least.”

  “And convenient,” she tagged on with a nod before taking a healthy sip of her Pinot Grigio. The crisp notes of the vino played along her taste buds like a dreamy melody. “Where the hell has this wine been all of my life?”

  “It’s a new varietal David put on the menu.” He inspected her half-drained glass. “I’ll order a few bottles for the wine cellar.”

  “You have a wine cellar?” She gaped at him over the lip of her goblet. “What else is stashed in that mansion of yours? A bowling alley? Olympic-sized swimming pool? Jimmy Hoffa’s body?”

  He leaned down and brushed his mouth against her ear. “Keep the last item on the down low. I don’t need Geraldo Rivera showing up. Again.”

  She snipped her chuckle short as an unfamiliar couple approached them. The man extended his hand to Jack and the two exchanged a friendly shake before Jack made the necessary introductions. As luck would have it, David and Leah Holbreight were the owners of the Floating Cork. Jane wasted no time submitting her glowing review of their establishment and the exceptionally delicious glass of vino she was currently guzzling like there was no tomorrow.

  Leah beamed. “Isn’t that pinot out of this world? I usually leave David in charge of the wine purchasing, but I knew we had to carry this one the second I sampled it on our Napa trip.”

  David heaved an exaggerated sigh. “In other words, she threatened me with permanent banishment to the doghouse if I didn’t give in to her demand. Bossy woman.”

  Leah pinched her husband hard enough to earn his yelp. Rubbing his side, he anted up a wink. “See what I have to endure? Sometimes I question if being her arm candy is worth the abuse.”

  “Please forgive my husband. He suffers from an incurable case of drama-queen-itis.”

  His laugh boisterous, David hauled his wife against him and smooched her on the lips before giving her a good goosing.

  Jane shifted her focus to Jack and caught his sparkling gaze. A smile passed between them at the couple’s antics. Ten-to-one he wasn’t experiencing a similar wistfulness to the one blossoming in her chest. No way was he looking at his friends as a sterling example of true relationship goals.

  Sadly, it was exactly what she was doing. She wanted a lifetime of teasing, affection, and public groping with Jack. She wanted the kind of comfortableness that came from years of waking up next to each other. Of knowing
they were in it for the long haul.

  And it was pathetic as hell. Because none of that was in their future. She needed to get it through her thick skull once and for all and stop torturing herself like this, for fuck’s sake.

  Gripping the fragile stem of her wineglass like her life depended on testing its snap resistance, she tore her scrutiny from Jack. Leah was eyeing her expectantly. Aw crap, the woman must have asked her something. “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

  “How long have you and Jack been seeing each other?”

  David coughed loudly into his fist. “You’ll have to excuse my wife. She suffers from an incurable case of nosiness.”

  “Oh, hush. Anymore out of you, and you will be fighting Angel for space in her doggie den.” The betraying twitch of her lips destroyed any chance of Leah’s glare being taken seriously.

  The couple’s good-natured sniping at each other awarded Jane a moment to fabricate a response that would appear casual enough—hopefully—because the truth was she had no damn idea if she and Jack were seeing each other, at least in the traditional sense. They were certainly fulfilling their daily quota of energetic rounds of Hide the Salami. Probably not what Leah was referring to. Sometimes it was better to stick with the non-pervy side of the story. Shit, who would have thought she’d take that high road? “Actually, we’ve known each other for a while. My brother introduced us.”

  “Trig is the groom-to-be,” Jack added. “Jane and I are both standing up in the wedding, hence why we decided to collaborate on this party.”

  “Hm, as you might recall, David and I first met each other at a wedding. I was the maid of honor and he was the best man.” The twinkle in Leah’s eyes could only be described as crafty. “And look at us, eighteen glorious years later.”

  Jack shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, his expression the living definition of get-me-the-fuck-outta-here-before-they-fit-me-with-a-ball-and-chain. If that wasn’t glaring evidence that he wasn’t envisioning monogrammed china and bath towels for them, nothing was.

  His aversion to commitment wasn’t a startling newsflash. Hell, once upon a time she’d felt the same way. Maybe even more so than him. That’s what made this whole situation an epic case of ironic fuckery.

  She gulped a hefty swallow of wine, hoping it’d dissolve the bitter aftertaste lingering in her mouth. No such luck.

  One of the restaurant’s wait staff joined them, momentarily pulling David’s and Leah’s attention to other matters. Desperate to ignore the awkward silence stretching between her and Jack, Jane preoccupied herself with loading up on an obscene amount of bacon-wrapped shrimp from another passing server. If she stuffed her yap-hole she’d be less likely to say something she’d regret. Plus, hello, shrimp and bacon. Turning her back on either of those would be sacrilegious.

  Midway through chowing down her second skewer, the Holbreights excused themselves to contend with the kitchen drama their employee had hunted them down over. Leah hugged Jack before gifting Jane with a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you. Hopefully, we’ll have an excuse for hosting another party for you two soon.” With a wink and her not so subtle parting shot hovering in the air like a cheery version of the Jaws theme song, she pivoted and followed her husband toward the building’s back entrance.

  Jane couldn’t bring herself to peek in Jack’s direction and confirm his valiant struggle with the invisible yet wholly terrifying noose Leah had just slipped around his neck. Instead, she crammed the remaining shrimp into her mouth and took out her miserable frustration on the helpless morsel.

  “Jane...”

  Jack’s somber tone brooked no good for whatever was about to come out of his pie hole. She drained her wine and choked down her resulting wheeze. Eyes watering, she held out her empty goblet to him. “Don’t know about you, but I could use another drink.”

  Twin frown lines indenting the center of his brow, he slid his focus from the glass in her hand and up to her face. He locked gazes with her for an endless moment before freeing her of the stemware and striding to the tiki bar.

  Sucking in a shaky breath, she smoothed the front of her cocktail dress. Someone’s arm banded around her waist and she reflexively jerked her elbow into their gut. A grunt floated past her ear and she cocked her head in time to catch Trig’s wince. “Well, that’s what you get for sneaking up on me, blockhead.”

  “Guess I should be grateful you didn’t aim a few inches lower.”

  She frowned as he dropped his arm back to his side. “You better not be bailing early from your own party.”

  “No. Why would you even think that?”

  “I assumed you were giving me a goodbye hug just now.”

  “What? Can't I hug you for any other reason? Maybe I simply wanted to show you how much I love you.”

  She gave him the stink eye. “Okay, what do you really want?”

  His expression turned sheepish. “Any chance you can let dad park the motorhome at your place? He and mom are due to get in sometime tomorrow.”

  “They’re bringing the hippy-mobile? How the hell is it still drivable?”

  He shrugged. “Personally, I’m leaning toward some alternative fuel source involving rust and weed fumes.”

  “Sounds logical.”

  “So can you help me out? We’re at maximum capacity at the house with Rissa’s cousins coming in on Friday for the bachelorette party.”

  “I guess a few days won’t kill me. Unless mom foists one of her kale smoothies on me again. In which case, my days are numbered.” She shuddered.

  “I owe you big time.” Trig’s attention drifted to the bar. “Moving on to other matters...Where is this going between you and Jack?”

  She gaped at him. “Wow, that came out of left field.”

  “Not really. It’s the second thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Why? Looking to protect my innocent virtue?” She snorted at the ridiculous notion. Like that ship hadn’t sailed out of the harbor the instant she popped out of the womb.

  Scuffing the grass with the toe of his dress shoe, Trig rubbed his nape. “I know I’m supposed to stay out of your love life. For everyone’s good, I won’t this time. We all barely survived the fallout from your last go-round with Jack.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she adopted her best Dirty Harry squint. “And naturally you presume it’s going to happen again. Thanks for the vote of confidence, douche waffle.”

  “Not at all, but I worry you’re setting yourself up for a world of hurt.”

  “No, parachuting into a pit of crocodiles would be setting myself up for a world of hurt. I have this situation fully under control.” She bristled at the softness in his gaze. “What?”

  “I’ve seen the way you look at him when your guard is down and you think no one is paying attention. It’s a split second of panic-inducing clarity. I experienced the same damn thing when I was in denial about my feelings for Rissa.”

  She shuttled a quick glance in Jack’s direction. There were still a couple of people ahead of him in line. He’d be busy for at least another minute or two. “Fine, I might have feelings for Jack. I’ll survive them. Everything worked out better than good for you and Marissa, so it’s entirely possible I won’t go down in flames.”

  “Only Jack isn’t Marissa.” Concern shadowed Trig’s features. “I’m not trying to be an asshole and pessimist. Trust me, I’d love to see you two stick this out. In a weird way, you’re both made for each other. And I genuinely believe he has feelings for you too. But you need to understand he has some major issues that have fucked him up.”

  “I know. He told me about Ava and the pregnancy.”

  Trig blinked. “He did?”

  “Yes. How does it feel not knowing everything?” she couldn’t resist pointing out obnoxiously. He damn well deserved it for putting her on the spot, even if he was being a caring brother, the dipshit.

  “Okay, I’ll admit I’m surprised. He doesn’t share his past with many people.” Tri
g’s focused roved over her shoulder. Appearing perplexed as ever, he rubbed his jaw. “Just be careful, all right? I know you want the whole world to think you’re a badass freak who eats men’s hearts for dinner with a side of fava beans and a nice Chianti, but you’re not immune to hurt.”

  She poked a finger in the middle of his chest. “Repeat that last blasphemy and I’ll beat you with a sock full of pennies.”

  “What are you two arguing about now?”

  She jumped at the unexpectedness of Jack’s voice behind her. Damn it, the man should come with a warning bell—for infinite reasons. “Absolutely nothing.” She speared her brother with a covert visual death threat as Jack passed her wine glass over. If Trig spilled the beans on their conversation he’d be fish food.

  Jack frowned. “Really? Because it looked tense between you two for a second there.”

  “Probably because she suggested beating me with a sock stuffed with pennies.”

  “Make it quarters.” She injected an extra dose of sweet menace into the warning.

  Judging from Trig’s grimace, he’d gotten the message loud and clear. “I made a comment about subscribing her to the kale of the month club. Apparently, she didn’t find it funny.”

  “They have a kale of the month club?” Jack grimaced. “Are they trying to torture potential customers?”

  Relief shooting through her, she transmitted her silent gratitude to Trig for his quick improvisation and he bobbed his head briefly in acknowledgment. Shit, now she felt guilty about the creative murder scenarios she’d been plotting in her head. Not that she wouldn’t use them if he repeated a word of their conversation to Jack.

  There was no way in hell she was putting her heart on the chopping block. And that’s exactly what would happen if Jack discovered the true scope of her feelings for him. Because the thing guaranteed to doom a person faster than letting the dreaded soul mate reference slip in the baking aisle? The infinitely more horrific L word.

  Which left her with only one option.

  She’d never, never, never, never, ever use that damnable word.