Dirty Little Mistake (Dirty #2)

by Amber Rides

  “I thought you told me – Never mind. I’ll just go,” she said.

  She turned away, giving me a perfect view of her curved rear end. Her lace panties were a thong. That same combo of physical need, coupled with my generally pissed-off mood was back with a vengeance.

  Jesus.

  Suddenly, I had to clamp my jaw shut to keep from begging her to stay.

  She flicked her eyes toward me once more, and this time I caught sight of her downturned mouth.

  “Wait!” I called.

  Brenna spun back.

  “Stay,” I said, certain I meant it, but also sure it was for all the wrong reasons. “How bad was the phone call?”

  She took a tiny step into the garage, a hopeful look on her face. I breathed a sigh that was one part regret and one part relief because her underwear were no longer visible.

  “I complimented him on his sexy memory,” she informed me.

  “That’s pretty bad, Pancake.”

  “I know.”

  “What else?”

  “I may or may not have called him a pervert.”

  I covered a laugh with a cough. “Sounds like the worst phone sex ever.”

  “Thanks,” she muttered.

  “So you thought you’d come by first thing this morning to tell me about your failure as a phone-lover?”

  “I wanted to catch you before you went to work,” she said.

  “If that’s the case…You have plenty of time to go home and make me some cocoa instead of that coffee.”

  “You don’t work?”

  “I do. I’m on the evening shift at the Serenity Inn and Restaurant. Our guests like late night pastries and they like them fresh.”

  She frowned for a second, and then her face lit up. “Oh my God! You make those delicious little strawberry thingies?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Strawberry thingies? You mean the world-famous, secret recipe, Serenity-exclusive, Strawberry Cream Cheese Turnovers?”

  “Yes!”

  “Yeah, Pancake, I make ‘em. In fact, I helped invent them.”

  “Liar.”

  I shot her a wounded look. “I’m not lying. Why do you think they’re R-Rated on the menu? Because they’re so damned sexy?”

  She blushed. “Maybe I thought they were sinfully delicious.”

  “Oh, they are. But in this case, the R definitely stands for Ridley. Of course, if you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to join me in the kitchen anytime you like. I’ll show you how those bad-boys are created.”

  I don’t know why I made the offer. My boss, Ronaldo, was a hard-ass who probably would’ve fired me long ago if it weren’t for my claim on the turnovers. No way was he going to let me bring someone into the kitchen. And he’d shit himself if he thought I was going to give away our secret recipe.

  Except the delighted look on Brenna’s face made it totally worth risking Ronaldo’s wrath. In fact, I was damned sure that look would make almost anything worthwhile.

  “Seriously?” she sounded like she was trying not to squeal.

  I suppressed a chuckle. “If you promise that next time – which will be the second time, in case you’re keeping track – you decide to accost me while you’re in your pajamas, you’ll bring hot cocoa. With marshmallows.”

  “Marshmallows?”

  I shrugged. “Up to you. If you think that’s too much to ask…”

  “Definitely not. Those Strawberry Cream Cheese Turnovers are one of my favorites. I could eat twenty of them.”

  On cue, her stomach growled just loud enough for me to hear.

  I raised an eyebrow. “You sure you only want twenty?”

  She blushed again. “I was in a hurry to get here. I didn’t eat breakfast.”

  I stood and stretched, pretending not to be pleased by the way her eyes travelled across my bare chest before I slipped my T-shirt over my head.

  “Can I offer you some stolen strawberry thingies? Or are you still in a hurry?” I teased.

  “Even if I had plans, I’d cancel them for one of those turnovers.”

  I laughed and led her through the garage, into the mudroom, and then into the kitchen. I pulled a container of the desserts from the freezer and stuck them on a tray.

  “I have to warn you,” I said. “These are the ones that didn’t meet the Serenity standard and were destined for the garbage.”

  “They won’t be as good?”

  “No,” I corrected with a grin. “They won’t be as triangular.”

  “Ha ha.”

  I slid them into the convection oven, then straddled the chair across from her. “So. Don’t you have a job to go to?”

  “It’s Spring Break.”

  “You’re a teacher?”

  “Preschool. But we work out of an elementary school so we shut down when they do.”

  “Preschool?” I couldn’t quite keep the surprise from my voice. “And you really want to date Ian?”

  “Is that weird?”

  I forced a laugh. “Nope. Not hard to believe at all. You spend all day finger painting with monkeys. Why wouldn’t you want to come home to an ape like Ian?”

  “Hey!”

  I tapped my chin thoughtfully. “You probably love kids, right? Which – now that I’m thinking about it, actually – makes perfect sense. Because Ian’s got the mental capacity of a ten-year old, so—”

  She cut me off with a playful punch. “You said you were going to help me.”

  I rubbed my arm. “Ouch! I said I might help you. And by the looks of things, what we should concentrate on first is your anger management.”

  Brenna rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I’ve officially seen the size of your biceps.”

  “And what did you think?”

  Her face colored. “I think if my tiny hand hurt you, you’re not as manly as you think you are.”

  “Take that back,” I commanded with a grin.

  “Or what?”

  “Take it back,” I said again.

  “No.”

  She must’ve read something in my expression then, because before I could even fully form a plan in my mind, she scooted backwards. Her chair skidded across the floor until it hit the wall behind her.

  I stood up and stalked – slowly – around the kitchen table.

  “What’re you going to do?” Brenna gasped.

  “I don’t know yet,” I told her. “That’s why I’m taking my time getting to you.”

  Her eyes were big and nervous, and my smile widened in what I was sure was a predatory way. I trailed my fingers across the table as I got closer. When I was near enough to reach her, she let out a little squeak and made a last-ditch effort to get away by diving sideways. She flew from the chair, and my arms closed around her waist. As we tumbled to the floor, I rolled sideways, pulling her on top of me so I wouldn’t crush her. She landed with her legs scissored between mine and her face just a few inches away from kissing distance.

  “Well,” I said as I regarded her shocked expression. “I still don’t know what I’m going to do, but I like where it’s started.”

  Chapter Eight

  Brenna

  I stared down at Ridley’s grey eyes, too transfixed by the dark specks dancing in them to move. I was afraid to even blink because if I did, I would lose sight of them.

  Even though I could swear I’d never seen such a gorgeous color – like a winter horizon – up close before, there was something familiar about his gaze. And whatever the familiarity was, it was making me warm.

  You need to get up, a voice in my head cautioned.

  Except when I went to obey, Ridley’s legs closed tightly on my own, effectively immobilizing me. I tried wriggling to a sitting position, but that made it much worse. I was now poised above him. The hard line between his muscular quad and his kneecap was right between my thighs, and the warmth I’d felt just seconds earlier burgeoned into full-out heat.

  “Let me go.” My demand sounded weak, even to me.

  “Uh-uh. I haven’t star
ted to punish you yet.”

  When he said punish, I had to stifle a little moan.

  Jesus, Brenna. Get a grip.

  “Where to start?” Ridley asked deviously.

  I didn’t trust myself to reply because his hands had closed on my hips, driving his leg between mine even harder and sending all coherent thought from my brain.

  I couldn’t focus my thoughts where they ought to be – on Ian. I couldn’t consider how wrong it was that this simple contact was driving me crazy with need. I couldn’t even concentrate my mind long enough to think of the baby at all.

  Instead, the attraction I’d been fighting for the last twelve hours reared up and I was almost positive I was going to lose the battle.

  Ridley’s fingers crept up my sides and I wondered if he was completely oblivious to the growing slickness dampening my underwear. If I got much wetter, I was sure he’d be able to feel it through my pajamas.

  His palms were at my ribcage, so close to my bra-line that my nipples tingled in anticipation of his touch.

  Please.

  But then his hands tightened and his fingers moved playfully and a giggle burst from my mouth as he began to tickle me mercilessly.

  “I’m an expert at this,” he warned. “And I can go for hours.”

  “Stop it!” I pleaded.

  He paused. “I will. If you take back the unmanly comment.”

  “You’re not horribly unmanly.”

  His fingers dove into my ribs again and I tried to slap him away, but he pinned my wrists together easily and continued his onslaught, one-handed.

  “Stop, stop, stop!” I cried between giggles.

  “Never.”

  I yanked on my hands and he held firm, but in his effort to keep my arms still, he forgot to hold on with his legs. The second he stopped squeezing, I twisted and rolled.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Ridley murmured.

  He sat up quickly, then pulled me back. I landed directly between his legs. I laughed and squirmed and I couldn’t free myself no matter how hard I tried.

  I finally couldn’t stand it anymore. “I take it back! You’re a man!”

  He chuckled. “Say that I’m the manliest man you’ve ever met.”

  “Ridley, that’s ridiculous!”

  He held his hand up menacingly. “Say it.”

  “Oh, my God. You’re the manliest man I’ve ever met.”

  His smile became smug. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Jerk.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking for more?”

  “No!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes!”

  He didn’t release my wrists, but he did loosen his grip and bring them down so I was nestled against him cozily. And suddenly I realized he wasn’t immune to my closeness any more than I was to his. The length of his arousal pressed against my backside. A matching desire licked through me.

  I tilted my head around toward him and found his lips right beside mine. They were so close I could feel their heat.

  He’s going to kiss me.

  And I wanted him to. Badly.

  My eyelids sunk down and all I could see through my lashes was his perfect mouth. I drew in an anticipatory breath.

  And then the oven alarmed, zapping me back to reality.

  I scurried out of Ridley’s embrace and came to my feet with a red face.

  He didn’t move. He just shot me an amused smile.

  “Geez, Pancake. You really want those turnovers, don’t you?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “Is that right?”

  His words hung in the air, dripping with innuendo. Then the oven beeped again, and Ridley stood to take out the pastries.

  The room filled with the sweet scent of them, reminding me that I actually hadn’t eaten anything that morning.

  Ridley stacked a plate full of the turnovers and put it down in front of me. He added a tall, cold glass of milk and sat down across from me.

  “All right,” he said. “Now that we know who wears the pants around here, why don’t you tell me what you’ve got in that folder there?”

  He inclined his head toward the things I’d set down on his kitchen table when we first came inside. I’d all but forgotten about it and now that Ridley was staring at it so curiously, I felt a little embarrassed by its presence.

  “It’s nothing,” I said.

  “It’s something,” he argued.

  “It’s something not important.”

  “Are you going to make me torture it out of you? Again?”

  I shoved down an urge to tell him yes and muttered, “It’s just a list of silly questions.”

  “For me?”

  My face was hot. “For you. But about Ian.”

  He flipped open the folder and scanned the contents. “You want to know what his favorite color is? And his favorite animal?”

  “Yes. It’s like a getting-to-know you cheat sheet. After last night’s massive failure, I didn’t want to be guessing.”

  “And this is a serious thing?”

  “I thought it was. Until you started making that face.”

  “You realize he’s – almost – a grown man, right? He doesn’t care about stuff like this.”

  “Well. What does he care about then?”

  “Tits.”

  “Ridley!”

  “Sorry, Pancake. Should I have said boobs? Or breasts?”

  “You shouldn’t have said anything.”

  He shrugged and popped a turnover into his mouth. “You wanted to know.”

  “Are you actually going to help? Or are you just going to tease me?”

  “Probably both. And this list is going to get you nowhere with Ian."

  "What is going to work? What does he talk about?"

  "Himself."

  I shot him a dirty look. "But my list is useless?”

  “Are you slutty?"

  I just about choked on my pastry. "What?! No! Of course not!"

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes!"

  He grinned. "Too bad. Because from what I've seen, Ian likes slutty."

  "I'm not slutty!"

  "Are you a virgin?" he asked.

  Ridley looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. I exhaled and tried to calm the reddening of my face.

  "No, I'm not."

  He gave me a thoughtful look. "Actually, that's probably a good thing. A virgin might be too intimidating for Ian."

  "Can we be serious for a second?"

  "I am being serious," he told me.

  "You want me to talk to him about being a virgin?"

  "I want you to talk to him about not being a virgin," he corrected. "Tell him about your first time. Give him something to beat. He likes to win."

  My frustration finally got the better of me and the words tumbled out a before I could stop them. "That shouldn’t be too hard. My first time was with my mom's forty-five-year old boyfriend."

  I clapped my hand over my mouth but it was too late. The damage was done. Ridley’s brow knit together furiously.

  "Jesus, Pancake."

  I looked down at the table. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I told you that."

  "Don't be sorry."

  "No seriously. I've never told anyone that. Not even Risa."

  "Is the sonofabitch in jail?"

  I shook my head slowly, wondering why I was explaining instead of running in the other direction.

  "It wasn't like that. I was eighteen. Just. But still an adult. He...didn't...uh." I cleared my throat and made myself tell him the truth. "Ridley, I asked him to do it. So my mother would leave him. Not that I had to try very hard to convince him, but I thought maybe it would force her to see what kind of man he was."

  "What the hell was he doing to her that it was that bad?"

  "Feeding her addiction. Pimping her out for collateral. He was a methamphetamines dealer."

  "Shit."

  "She didn't leave him."

  "What did she do
?" he asked, sounding like he was pretty sure he knew already.

  "She packed my bags, dropped them at the front door, and asked me to leave instead."

  He slid his chair closer to mine and pulled me into his arms.

  "I don't care what you say, Pancake. You were barely more than a kid. The guy should’ve rotted. Should still rot. And if your mom couldn't see that..." he trailed off, his voice brittle.

  I spoke directly into his chest, my lips vibrating against the thin fabric of his T-shirt. "I'm past being angry. If anything, I'm thankful. It gave me the motivation I needed to seek something better for myself. And it helped me see I couldn't save her."

  Ridley’s hands ran over my hair gently. When he spoke, though, it was fiercely.

  “If I had a kid – when I have one – I’d move heaven and earth to protect her.”

  His words forced me back to my current situation and I eased myself out of Ridley’s embrace. I needed to do just what he said – move heaven and earth – to protect my baby, Ian’s baby, from the kind of life I had growing up.

  “After Carl, I stayed single for a long time,” I said, keeping my tone impassive. “I worked for a year, saving up for community college and the Early Child Education program. Then I started the course and I met Ted, one of the program directors. We dated for a year before it got a little too serious for me. After that there was Peter, a financial planner at the bank where I got my student loans. We were together for about six months. He proposed, I panicked, and it’s been two years since I’ve even been on a date. So…It might not be an impressive resume, but I’m not a virgin. Will that do, for Ian’s standards?”

  Ridley’s eyes met mine. I waited for him to point out how ridiculous it was for me to run away from two perfectly serious, perfectly well-rounded relationships. Or how there had to be some kind of irony in the fact that I was chasing Ian with the intention of making him a permanent fixture in my life when he was so obviously the last choice for a girl like me. But Ridley just gave me a nod, an unreadable expression on his face.

  “The first thing you should do is surprise him,” he said slowly. “Ian thinks women are predictable. He knows how to play them. Those hearts and flowers you think you want? Ian knows it’s not true. Girls don’t want that from him.”

  “What do they want?”

  He smiled briefly. “I’d say they want a good lay, but I don’t want you to hit me again. So instead I’ll say they want arm candy. A pretty-boy to show off to their friends.”