by Lia Riley
“Last night, shmast night.” She waved a careless hand and hopped up on the counter. Yes, good, easy breezy. She didn’t need him. She was the one other people needed.
“Hey.” He stepped forward and tilted up her chin. “What’s spinning around that pretty head of yours?”
“Flings are fun.” She dropped her head, a curtain of hair blocking his face. Better because staring meant seeing, and who knew what he might find if he looked hard enough. “But you don’t have to come over to talk about my day.”
“Listen.” He pulled out a chair, flipping it around to sit backward. “I did have fun last night with you. The sex, well, it was good—amazing, actually.”
“Yeah, but?” Because that part was coming. The but rose over his head like an invisible cartoon dialogue bubble.
“But…” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I don’t know. I keep thinking about how I’ve been this self-protected island. And you? You’re a tsunami.”
“So what, you need to head for higher ground?” Her pulse leapt with panic even as she strove for levity.
“Dammit.” He made a frustrated noise. “How about you quit joking, be serious? I’m not going to bullshit. I like you,” he said frankly. When she did nothing but gape, he continued. “Jesus, you’re cute, funny, sexy as hell. I want to do more than have sex. Hang out. Talk. Watch movies. Keep it casual, but connect.” He reached in his bag and removed a familiar board game. “I hear you’re quite the Scrabble player.”
“I know my way around a board,” she said dubiously, fighting for equilibrium. Too many compliments in rapid succession, she couldn’t process them all. Why’d he do that? Because she seemed needy?
“You look like a deer in headlights,” he said rapidly. “I’m not trying to push you, or complicate anything. We can keep it as straight sex.” He scuffed at the floor. “But I like you. We’re friends, right?”
“And you want to upgrade to friends with benefits?” She raised a brow. “Have you never watched a romantic comedy?”
He blinked. “No? Should I have?”
“Nora Ephron is the shit, but as for fling plots, they all go more or less the same way.” She braced her hands on the kitchen table. “It starts casual, but by the middle everyone in the audience is throwing Junior Mints at the screen and shouting, ‘Good God, people, kiss already.’”
“You have big feelings on the subject.” He smirked, not missing a beat. “But if you’re the expert on the subject of fling pitfalls, then you should have the answers for how we could avoid them.”
He had a point. She swung her legs, thinking a moment. “First, no sleepovers, like we agreed last night. Second, no friending each other on Facebook.”
“Easy.” He gave a curt nod. “I don’t do Facebook.”
“I see.” Not that she knew that from trying to social media stalk him. No. Not at all. She shifted her weight on the counter. “Exchanging bodily fluids is okay, but no deep feelings.”
He shrugged. “Don’t have those, either.”
The way he stared in her eyes while entering her last night made that claim doubtful. But all kidding aside, she did have a final point that needed to be put on the table. “And last but not least, save the compliments.”
His eyes widened. “What’s that mean?”
“I don’t need a fuss.”
“What is the fuss, people being kind to you?”
She shrugged. “There’s probably twenty different deep-seated neuroses to unpack here, but that would mean talking about feelings, and that means referring to rule number three.” They’d teetered on the edge of something big, and she yanked them back to safety.
This was a temporary solution to a long-term sexual rut. That’s it. End of story.
“Even with these ground rules, friends-with-benefits is a recipe for disaster, unless you added a key ingredient. In my case, it’s the fact Everland isn’t my forever. That means we can keep this fun.”
“All right then, lil’ buddy. Have it your way. I won’t pay a single compliment about you or your perfect breasts.” His tone was light, but that probing stare was dangerous.
No more talk. Time to put the fuck in fuck buddy.
She nodded to the board game. “How about a rousing round of strip Scrabble?”
“Strip Scrabble?” He gave her a bemused smile.
“Yes. I just invented it.” She rubbed her hands. “Here’s how to play. Every thirty points, the loser loses an article of clothing.” She waggled her brows. “And if you spell a body part, the other person has to kiss it.”
“Careful, Trouble.” He leveled a crooked smile. “I aim to play dirty.”
She jumped off the counter, walked to the table, and opened the lid. A shiver of anticipation coursed through her as she removed the board. “I’d have it no other way.”
Who knew Scrabble could be sexy?
Five minutes later, Rhett placed an H in front of the word eat.
“Well, sir, looks as if you have got some of this.” Pepper set an S tile next to the word kill.
“Some guys are breast men—and like I said, you’d make me a convert—but I prefer…” He bracketed the word high with a T and an S and gave a rakish smile. “What were the rules again? That I have to kiss you there?”
“I do like to follow the letter of the law-ahhhhh,” she moaned as he parted her legs, head dropping low. “That’s not my thigh.”
“Oops,” he glanced up with a rakish smile. “Aimed too high.” He didn’t purposely try to sound seductive, but with that molasses-rich accent, he could make reading the instructions for a toaster oven sound hotter than a Southern night.
“Darn,” she pouted, both at her letters and the fact he stopped that thing he was doing with his tongue. “I’m like Old McDonald. So much E-I-E-I-O.”
“You’d make a good farmer.”
“Is this a reference to my fertile hips?”
He gave said hips an approving squeeze. “No, I meant you love corn.”
“Guilty as charged. Still, there’s something else I love even more.” She dropped an S onto ex.
“Never let me be the one who stood between you and what you wanted,” he said, before he showed her not only what he could do with his tongue, but also his fingers, and a few other clever body parts.
Afterward, she curled up, sated, lazy, and happy as she could remember in his lap. “I feel something,” she whispered.
“Me too.” He nuzzled her hair.
“I meant on my butt.” She reached and plucked off a Z tile. “Guess we earned ten points.”
“That’s it.” His low chuckle sent heat through her belly. “Now you’re in trouble.”
But, as Pepper realized somewhere between “God, oh God” and “yes, there, yes” that the trouble with trouble is sometimes you want more of it.
* * *
The next day at the dog park, Rhett sent her an invitation for online Scrabble and they played a secret fast and furious game. During her walk back to Mrs. Johnson’s house, with Ziggy the seven-year-old St. Bernard on the leash, her phone buzzed.
Rhett: Good game
Pepper: I killed your butt—holla!
Rhett: Excuse me?
Pepper: Damn you autocorrect! Kicked. Kicked your butt
Rhett: Should I be scared to come over?
Scared or not, he did. And the night after that. And quite a few more after that.
“How come you’re always coming here?” she asked from the cover of darkness.
He tugged a lock of her hair. “Far as I know, you come, too.”
“I’m serious. I’ve never stepped foot in your house.”
He remained quiet a minute. “Guess I don’t like the idea of making you sneak over in the dark, creeping home.”
“Let me get this straight.” She grabbed a sheet and sat up against the headboard. “The idea of me walking twenty steps home from a booty call compromises my honor.”
“It’s not the action of a gentleman.”
She tickled her toes on hi
s calf. “And what you did to me ten minutes ago was?”
“Different,” he drawled, giving her a light spank.
She shrieked, giggling. “I don’t see it that way.”
“You’re putting me in a hard place.”
“No.” She lightly ran her nails between his muscular thighs, giving his shaft a caressing squeeze. “You’re already in a hard place.”
He groaned, his hips bucking. “That’s not fighting fair.”
A gentle twist of the wrist. “Say, ‘you’re invited to my house, Pepper.’” She increased her speed.
His eyes rolled back in his head as he thickened in her grip. “You’re invited to my house, Pepper.”
“Tomorrow.” She stroked from base to tip.
“Yes. Christ. Tomorrow is great.”
“And you’re beautiful.” Up and down, increasing the grip.
“That’s true.” His fingers dug into the sheets.
“And smart.”
He leaned in, breathing hard, low growls vibrating in his chest. “Smart ass, you mean.”
She froze, mouth pursed. “I can stop.”
He jerked. “I meant as smart as a whip.”
“Is a whip smart?” She leaned in and nipped his bottom lip, gasping as he cupped her still tender sex.
“Genius smart.” He brushed his nose against hers, his tongue teasing the seam of her mouth, a sexy direct provocation.
“And…and…” It’s a trick to be witty with a finger massaging your lady button. “Wha-wha-what else?” she stammered.
“Humble?” Amusement laced his voice, and something more, affection, and, God, she didn’t want to give name to what else for fear of breaking the spell.
He rolled her onto her back and positioned himself above her on his elbows while she grabbed the box of condoms off her night dresser. “There is only one left. How’d that happen?”
His teeth caught the lobe of her ear, his hot breath making her moan. “I have a theory.”
“Shut up.” She grinned even though a foreign feeling lodged deep inside. Nothing about the situation felt like work, or compromising. She suspected the unfamiliar sensation had a name.
Contentment.
And it scared her to death.
“What’re you thinking, Trouble?” he asked after another hungry kiss.
“Nothing,” she demurred. “It’s too hard when you do that hand trick, that, with the fingers, and oh, that pressure there.” She rested her lips against his cheek, inhaling that addictive woodsy smell, unable to resist adding, “This is good. You and me.”
“Come over tomorrow,” he said at last. “I’ll make you dinner. I make a hell of a steak.”
“Sounds like a plan. On one condition. Can I come now?” He flickered over her swollen sweet spot, answering her question.
Afterward he rolled to face her, walking his fingers over the swell of her hip. “Let’s get serious about tomorrow.”
“Serious how?” Her smile wilted. “Second thoughts already?”
He made an are you kidding face. “How’d seven suit?”
Chapter Twenty
At 6:58 the doorbell chimed. Pepper was punctual.
Rhett opened his front door, promptly gripping the knob to keep from slamming it shut. “What are you doing here?”
“The better question is, where are your manners?” His big sister smacked his chest with the back of her hand. “That’s a fine way to talk to family.”
He glanced over her shoulder. The sidewalk was empty, but Pepper would be arriving any minute.
Lou Ellen sniffed, nostrils flaring. “Mmm…Smells real nice in here.” She waltzed into the house.
“What do you need?” he muttered, glancing toward Pepper’s place setting. Dinner for three wasn’t what he had in mind, but it was time to speed through anger, denial, and frustration and get right to acceptance, because this situation was about to happen.
“I’m here to talk details about Mr. Scallywag. The Village Pillage is coming up, and that means the silent auction. The Quilt Guild’s predicting your turn as Mr. Scallywag will raise more money than any other item besides Kingston Day’s timeshare in Cocoa Beach. Did I tell you we chose the dog park to be the recipient of this year’s fundraiser money? Miss Ida May wanted to do…” Ellen trailed off, her gaze lasered on the tossed salad and bottles of IPA on the table. “Am I interrupting something, little brother?” she said in a tone of delight. “Why, it looks like you’re ready for a hot date—”
The dogs raced toward the door, barking up a storm before the doorbell chimed.
“I’ll get it!”
She was quicker.
“Hello?” Pepper lurked, uncertain at the door. “I…can come back later…or…not…just wanted to…”
“Come on in.” Rhett had all the enthusiasm of a man marching to the gallows. “Pepper, let me introduce you to—”
“Hello, there. I’ve been dying to meet you,” Lou Ellen extended a hand, bright rings on every finger. “Lou Ellen Woodall née Valentine. Rhett’s big sister.”
Pepper glanced between them. “I see the family resemblance.”
“Do you now?” Lou Ellen touched her cheek.
“The eyes.”
“Inherited from our mama,” Lou Ellen replied in a softer tone before regrouping. “Now, who is going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Back off, Lou.” He used his best authoritative tone, one that garnered an instant response from even disobedient dogs.
His big sister was unimpressed. “I think I have a right to know what’s going on under my baby brother’s roof.”
“No, you don’t,” he pushed back.
“I’m the oldest female in the family,” she protested. “Mama would expect nothing less.”
But there was a world of difference between being a caring matriarch and a nosy nuisance. Rhett went stone cold silent. Hard to say if anyone even noticed. The dogs were carrying on around Pepper, yelping, tails hitting furniture.
Their gazes connected.
You doing okay? he asked silently.
A hint of tightness strained the skin near her eyes, but her smile reached her eyes. Yeah.
“I’ve never seen those three behave like that before,” Lou Ellen remarked.
“Pepper brings it out in them.” And no way in hell would Rhett add what she brought out in him. Dammit. He loved his sister, but he wasn’t ready for anyone to intrude in this Pepper alternate reality. Besides, flings don’t meet family.
“I stopped by to get some professional development tips. Rhett’s been helping me out with that.”
His chest heaved with a silent groan. Pepper sounded as phony as a presenter on a late-night infomercial. Her wide-eyed innocent act might fool a stranger on the street, but not his sister. But he didn’t want his sister getting the wrong idea.
She glanced to Lou Ellen, who was practically rubbing her hands, and asked, “Will you be staying for dinner?”
“No,” Rhett answered right as Lou Ellen said, “Why, I’d love that.”
Silence reigned in the dining room. Even the dogs padded to their individual pillows, ears cocked at attention, no doubt picking up on all the unspoken tension.
Lou Ellen took a seat at the head of the table and crossed her ankles. Her unruffled smile belayed the I’m getting to the bottom of this gleam in her eye.
When push came to shove, Lou Ellen would never leak his love life to the Back Fence, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t want the lowdown dirty details as kickback. She made his business her business, and nothing to the contrary made a dent in her thinking process.
“What are your four monsters doing tonight besides burning down the house?”
“Snapper’s coaching their soccer game.” Lou Ellen turned to Pepper. “My three big girls are on the team, and the littlest thinks she’s the assistant coach. I don’t have the faintest idea where Lorelei gets her bossiness from.”
“I do,” Rhett muttered.
“You’re too fun
ny for words.” Lou Ellen bared her teeth.
As Pepper took a seat, Rhett fetched an extra plate and cutlery, plus the broiled oysters he’d prepared as an appetizer.
“I want to know everything about you. Tell me a fun fact.” Lou Ellen leaned in on her elbows, propping her chin on top of her folded hands. “Something nice and juicy.”
“I don’t know.” Pepper fiddled with her fork. “I’m pretty dry.”
An awkward pause. If Lou Ellen was less of a lady, she sounded like she’d cough the word bullshit into her fist. Instead she settled for a tight smile and “I doubt that.”
Rhett leaned back in his chair. “Leave it, Lou Lou.”
“What? I’m simply stating a fact. There is nothing wrong with a little getting-to-know-you chitchat, am I right, Pepper? Rhett doesn’t do girl talk.”
“Let me tell you what I do do.” His patience frayed to a thread. For someone who’d worked hard to be an island, it was starting to feel damn crowded here. “Eat.” He picked up his fork and shoved an oyster in his face. “These are a local variety. You know, I read in the Examiner that Georgia could well be on its way to being considered the Napa Valley of oysters. Go on, try one, they won’t be good once they’re cold.”
“I have a sister.” Pepper spoke over him even as she offered a reassuring smile. “Tuesday and I the best of friends and the worst of enemies.”
Lou Ellen nodded slowly, a ghost of a genuine smile on her lips. “A good way to look at sibling relationships.”
“Now you asked me to tell you something about myself. I was once in a movie,” Pepper said. “As an extra.”
Rhett dropped his shoulders a fraction. Score one for Pepper. Unexpected pride warmed through him. If there was one thing Lou Ellen loved besides her family, her Quilt Guild, and her Monday nights watching The Bachelor, it was movies. She had a subscription to two celebrity magazines and was up to date on all celebrity gossip, and she shared who dated who or who wore what where, like it or not.
Besides, it seemed important for Pepper to make a good impression on Lou. The realization stuck in his throat, along with the bacon-wrapped oyster, and he reached for his beer to force it down.
“You’re kidding. Who? What? Where? How?” Lou Ellen looked rapt.