Her tiny gasp of indignation makes my dick jump. "How dare you!"
I pull back and grin at her. "That isn't a no."
Anger darkens her eyes, and she places her free hand against my chest and shoves. But a tiny thing like her can't budge me, and I playfully flex my pecs under her palm in response.
"Stop it, Cass! I have a bachelorette party to cater tonight. A very important one for the restaurant. And the bride was very specific that she wanted cucumber canapés."
"Ooooh, canapés!" I waggle my eyebrows, knowing it will set her off again.
She huffs and tugs at it again. "Give it to me!"
Oh, God, how I long to hear her say those words while I'm buried inside her.
I glance down at the huge cucumber being held tightly on either end—my large, calloused hand on one side, her petite one on the other. "I have an idea that might just give us both what we want."
That pretty scowl returns to her face, looking sexier and poutier than anything else. "Oh, yeah, does it involve you handing over the cucumber and disappearing from my life forever? 'Cause if not, I'm not interested."
"You were very interested back in the day, Virgin Mary." If I knew Bobby's kid sister would have grown up to look like this, I'd definitely have been more interested.
Mary huffs out a laugh but doesn't deny it. She was always trying to hang around when I was over at their house, but the few years that separated us meant we weren't even remotely on the same level—her tits hadn't even come in the last time I saw her. But they are definitely on display now. My height advantage gives me the perfect angle to peek right down the V of her shirt, where those perfect globes push up against the soft material. I lick my bottom lip, totally ensnared in the creamy cleavage.
"Uh-uh. Eyes up here, buddy."
There isn't any point in fighting the smile tugging at my lips, but I take my time dragging my gaze up her chest, past those pouty lips, and finally locking onto that pissed-off scowl.
Virgin Mary Sweet has certainly turned into all woman.
Bet she tastes sweet, too.
"How about you stop ogling me and tell me your grand idea, Cass?"
"You come back to my place—"
"Oh, hell no. Do you think I'm going to fuck you for a cucumber? Like I'm some kind of cucumber whore? A veggie ho? You mother—"
"Language, Miss Sweet, please."
We both turn to look at a grim-faced Old Jerry before he walks away, shaking his head in disgust.
"Yes, Miss Sweet, mind your tongue. There are children present." I mock an offended gasp of horror and draw my other hand up to clutch at my chest.
Anger clouds her pretty features. Pressing her buttons shouldn't be a turn-on, like foreplay, but somehow, it is. And if I manage to get her back to my place, there are so many things I want to do—with her and this cucumber.
Mary scans around us and pauses at a couple with a toddler before turning her laser focus back to me. "Maybe you can talk them out of their candy, too." She tilts her head in the kid's direction.
I follow her gaze. What the hell is she talking about?
Mary catches me off guard and yanks her end of the cucumber toward her, trying to jerk it free while I'm distracted. I clench my jaw and yank it right back. She huffs an annoyed breath to blow the hair from her face. Her lips purse and a million different ideas for what Virgin Mary can do with those damn lips make my cock twitch.
But I need to get her alone first. "Before you so rudely interrupted me with your perversions, I was suggesting that we should go to my loft and split the cucumber."
Her golden eyes narrow on me with deep suspicion. "No tricks? We half it?"
I cross my fingers over my heart and hold up my hand with my thumb crossed over the palm. "Scout's honor."
She rolls her eyes hard enough that they almost don't come back down. "You weren't a scout, and that's not their sign."
Waving my hand at her, I scoff. "Close enough. Do we have a deal?" I flash her a dazzling smile, the one that always ensures big tips on the nights I work behind the bar.
Her lips press together firmly, and she rolls her eyes yet again. "Fine. We'll half it."
Was that really so hard? Because God knows I am.
The satisfied grin taking over my lips only seems to make her sneer at me more. "Great. Let me just pay Old Jerry, and we'll get this cucumber bagged up and be on our way."
I reach for my wallet but feel a tug on the other end of the cucumber. My fingers brush against the leather of my wallet in my back pocket, and I meet Mary's glare.
"No way. I'm paying half. I want half ownership."
She can't be serious…
"Half ownership?" I stare at the deathly serious look on her face. "Mary, this is like a two-dollar cucumber. I think I can afford to pay for the entire thing."
She shakes her head, sending her caramel silken locks shifting around her face, mesmerizing me. My fingers itch to dig into it and tug on it while she sucks my cucumber deep into that throat and laps at it with that tongue that can't seem to stop arguing with me.
"No,"—she squares her shoulders, a move that's probably intended to make her seem more intimidating, but all it does is push her luscious breasts toward me even more—"I'm paying for my half, but you're going to have to let it go so I can set down these bags and get the money out of my purse."
I look to her other hand, the one not latched onto the cucumber. Her purse hangs from her delicate wrist, and she clenches another bag of vegetables in her fist. "There's no way in hell I'm letting this cucumber go. You'll take off with it, claiming it all for yourself."
Her lips curl into a wicked smile. "You don't trust me?" She bats her long, thick black lashes at me. What she thinks is mocking is truly sexy as hell.
"Not. Even. A. Little."
An animal-like growl rumbles in her chest, and she tightens her grip on the cucumber. "Sorry, Cass. I'm not letting go. I guess we'll stand here all day."
It's a battle of wills she won't win. I can stand here all day and do this. It wouldn't be the first time my hand was wrapped around ten inches for hours at a time—but when it's your own cock, at least you know there's a happy ending in sight. Sometimes even I have a dry spell, and a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do to get off.
Old Jerry sighs dramatically. I hadn't even noticed he had returned, but the annoyance twisting his wrinkled brow proves he's caught the gist of our current predicament. "Take the cucumber. Please, on the house. Take the cucumber and go. For the love of God, just go."
Mary plasters on a dazzling smile. "Jerry, thank you, but you don't have to do that." She practically coos the words at Old Jerry, and I'm sure any other man would fall to their knees to worship at her feet, but he seems to be over our shit.
"Yes, I do. Your cursing and arguing are scaring off paying customers. I'm considering this a sacrificial cucumber." He waves a hand and wanders off, mumbling something under his breath about "crazy kids" and "strange vegetable uses."
He has no idea.
Our gazes meet, and neither of us can contain our laughter. The way it lights up her face and clears the anger from her eyes might almost convince me I have a chance with her, if she didn't also tug lightly on the would-be gherkin in one final jerk in a last-ditch effort to steal it from my grip.
"Well, we got a free cucumber out of it, but you need to let it go so I can carry it to my place. I have a loft over the bar. The walk isn't far." I pull on the cucumber.
Her jaw opens in disbelief. "You let go." She yanks on her end.
"Mary," I growl her name—her anger and persistence fueling my libido in a way that's left me borderline feral. I can't help but notice how she slightly shivers—my tone, the way my eyes rake across her features, and the suggestion I forced into her name—raising something to just below the surface of her pale skin. "I guess we're just going to walk to my place holding this cucumber, then, because I'm not letting go, either."
Mary chuckles. "Looks that way, Casanova." My
name comes out as a smart-ass purr from those full lips, and my cock pushes against the seam of my zipper at her sass.
Down boy. Not the right place or the right time for that notion.
"Well, grip it tightly, Virgin Mary. Cass is going to take you for a ride."
Blush colors her cheeks, and I hide my grin behind my hand before I turn and lead her through the farmers' market toward the sidewalk that will carry us the short distance down to my loft.
Neither one of us is willing to release our phallic prize. Only the length of the cucumber separates us, and this close, the light breeze blows the scent of something sweet and fruity from her hair straight into the air I breathe.
"You sure you don't want to let go?" I sneak a glance at her out of the corner of my eye.
She doesn't even look at me. "Not a chance." Head high, perfect tits pushed out, strutting with what I'm assuming is an even more perfect ass.
We stroll down the sidewalk, hands linked via vegetable. It's utterly ridiculous, but I can't help the chuckle that escapes me as we pass a few people on the sidewalk. The odd sight draws curious stares.
Mary leans forward slightly until our gazes meet. "What? What's so funny?"
She seems either unaware or unconcerned with how completely stupid we must look right now.
"Nothing, Virgin Mary. We're here." I stop outside the door to my bar.
She glances at the door. I need to wrangle my keys out of my pocket to unlock the stairwell door, but Mary still has a kung-fu grip on this cucumber. She returns her focus to me, a scowl turning down her lips. "Stop calling me that."
I bite back the laugh at her annoyance over the old nickname. It's just so much fun to get her riled up. "Mary, I need to get to my keys. Let this cucumber go. I'll let you hold something else in its place that's big, long, and hard."
Her jaw drops, but it's almost as if I've rendered her speechless. And caught her off-guard.
This is my chance.
I jerk the cucumber out of her hand and lean in close enough that I know she feels my warm breath fluttering over her cheek. "You better close that sweet mouth, Virgin Mary, or that big, long, hard thing is going to slip right in there."
Chapter 3
Mary
Each step we climb up wooden stairs brings us closer to a landing with a single door in front. It also draws my attention to the fact that Cass still has an absolutely incredible ass. The man always did have an incredible body. But he was a teenager back then, had a high metabolism and played baseball. A huge part of me had wished if I ran into him, he would have totally let himself go and gone all "dad bod."
No such luck.
Instead, his jeans perfectly hug a tight ass positioned directly in front of my face. It might have been wise to go up ahead of him so I wouldn't find myself in this predicament, but after that lewd comment he made before he unlocked the door, I didn't want him anywhere near my ass. Something tells me if I had ascended in front of him, his hands would have been all over my globes, and that would have led to exactly what he threatened—something big, long, and hard in my hand—and definitely not the cucumber.
A girl can only take so much shameless flirting from a super-hot guy she's fantasized about for years before she finally snaps. And I'm not too far from the brink of that.
Only I know he does this with everyone—exhibit A—mom with a baby at the farmers' market.
Don't take anything he says seriously, Mare. If you do, you'll only set yourself up for disappointment and rejection, even worse than what he did to you a decade ago.
He pauses in front of the door and slips the key into the lock. His azure eyes peek over his shoulder at me before he unlocks the door and pushes it open.
I can only imagine the frat-house-style décor I'm about to be greeted with since Cass lives over a bar. There will probably be neon signs and beer bongs all over the place. Though from the quick glimpse I got of the bar downstairs, it didn't look too trashy.
In fact, it almost looked—I can't believe this is the word that comes to mind with anything having to do with Cass—classy. He's somehow managed to carve out a thriving business in our tiny little hometown.
The bastard.
It would have made me feel so much better if he were a deadbeat loser.
"After you." The hand not holding the cucumber sweeps out, granting me entrance.
A clean, crisp scent mingled with new leather greets me.
Wow. I was definitely not expecting…THIS.
No mere bachelor pad with hand-me-down furniture—it's masculine and beautiful. Absolutely stunning, really.
Slate floors grace the entire open living area. An enormous matching fireplace, two-stories high, flanked by built-in bookshelves lined with books and photos, takes up one entire wall, and the leather couch and armchair facing it make the space inviting and cozy.
A wall of windows to my left overlook the town square and have an unobstructed view of the old courthouse in all its eighteenth-century charm.
I bet this view is beautiful at night.
"This is your place?" My eyes turn toward the kitchen, with beautiful cabinetry and a massive stainless-steel island littered with perfectly placed bottles of booze and mixers on either side of a seamless sink so large it could be considered a small bathtub.
This must be where he perfects his drinks.
"Try not to look so shocked, Mary. Were you expecting it to look like a frat house?"
Yes. Yes, I was.
Except I don't say that. I don't say anything. Probably safer that way.
Instead, I focus on the source of all our angst today, still clutched tightly in his large hand.
"Ready to enjoy this bad boy?" He wiggles it in front of his crotch playfully.
My throat suddenly goes dry, and I force myself to drag my eyes up to finally meet his. He offers a knowing, smug grin and an obnoxious wink. Butterflies swirl low in my belly, and my skin heats. My body still wants Cass A. Nova despite my head telling me he's still a jerk, but I shove that shit away.
Just old feelings from a lifetime ago. Hormones and my cobweb-filled vagina calling out to be occupied.
Forget it, Mare.
Reluctantly, I follow him into the kitchen, keeping my eyes on the room and not his amazing ass. He heads directly for the sink, and I set my bags onto the island and watch him like a hawk. I don't trust the man not to do something underhanded in order to keep the full length of that cucumber. If you give him an inch, he'll take a mile. And my career here in town, the family restaurant, all depend on this party going off without a hitch.
Don't let Cass A. Nova be a hitch!
He flips on the water, the sound of it pouring into the metal sink filling the tension-filled silence. Strong fingers glide over the rigid length of the vegetable, and I can't help but imagine a naked Cass stoking himself. Which is likely exactly what he intended with the move. But even knowing that doesn't stop the visual from assaulting me.
Get yourself together, Mary.
Dragging my focus away from his slow, deliberate strokes takes more willpower than I ever could have thought, but I somehow manage to meet his eyes. Of course, the asshole is watching me, and a knowing smirk tugs at his lips. His full, kissable lips.
I choke back a moan at the intensity of that smoldering gaze raking over me. This pull between us…I can't be the only one feeling it.
Can I?
It's the same feeling I got every time he looked at me growing up, only then, when he directed his focus on me, it wasn't with this kind of heat. Whatever it might be now, I need to move the hell on from it. Unfortunately, I know from experience a one-sided thing for this man doesn't work out in my favor.
Been there. Done that. Have the emotional scars that will never fade.
He examines me from under thick lashes before his gaze darts back to the task at hand—or should I say in hand.
Christ, he knows how to work that thing…
His large fingers glide over the cucumbis sativas, ea
sily giving way to another visual—him stroking his own "cucumber." I bet that man has a massive dick. He's too cocky not to be well endowed. Plus, what I could make out under all his tight baseball pants and wet swim trunks as a teenager has remained seared in my mind like a damn brand with the initials CAN on it.
I squirm on the stool under me, trying to find a position that might stop the throbbing between my legs. No such luck. My body seems to want what my head knows I can't have. I can't be fooled by good looks and innuendos. It may have been ten years since I last saw Cass, but I still know who he is—what he is. While he's a good person—and hot as all get out—he's also a huge flirt. Always has been. With everyone.
Well, everyone except me. Before today…
Being in the proximity of Cass is dangerous. Instead of ogling him and fantasizing more, I force myself to rise and walk deliberately over toward the bookshelves so it doesn't look like I'm running away. Which I totally am.
The worn leather spines of several classic novels call out to me, and I brush my fingertips over them with awe.
Who would have thought Cass was a reader?
The only thing I ever saw Cass and Bobby reading growing up was a secret stash of girly magazines. It's hard to believe his tastes ever improved.
The water shuts off behind me, and I peek over my shoulder at the kitchen. Cass leans casually against the counter, just watching me inspect his things. I arch a brow but turn my attention back to his shelves. Nothing good can come from lingering stares at this man.
A photo of Cass and a group of boys all decked out in matching baseball uniforms holds the place of honor in the center of one shelf. They hold a trophy and have the number one held up with their fingers. Each face proud and happy. No one looks happier than Cass.
It's so sweet and endearing that he helps them. It makes me sick. I can't reconcile the Cass I knew so many years ago with the man he seems to be now.
Especially when I glance to where he still leans against the counter, watching me, entirely unaffected.
Just like all those years ago when he was the center of my small world and I was nothing but the punchline of a joke to him.
Eat Your Heart Out: A Romance Charity Anthology Page 2