A meaningful pause gives me time to absorb that word into my skin before I form a reply. It’s been a long time since I had a date. Dates for me have been few and far between. I’ve never even been in a serious relationship, for a couple of reasons.
“I’m not that kind of guy,” I rumble. It irks me to think she could ever assume I’d try to manipulate a woman, especially with alcohol. And then, it irks me that I care so much what she thinks. What is happening to me?
She can’t help but roll her eyes at me. That look on her face makes me want to put her over my knee and spank her…real good.
“You’ve already shown your ass. You’re planning on taking my home. What else is there for me to know about you? What kind of guy are you?” she says.
I shrug. “I’m a guy who likes to finesse things. I like to massage numbers and go into negotiations to make sure everyone wins.”
“I can’t see how I’m in any way on the winning end of this.”
I am not going to win her over tonight. “Well, look at it this way. All I’m doing today is renovating my house. And then the next house, and then the next. The golf course plan is pretty far down the road. Maybe years. We’ve got plenty of time to negotiate.”
My eyes drift downward. I’ve noticed how much skin is visible in her skimpy yellow cotton sleep nightie. She’s not wearing a bra or undies.
Her nipples are taut against the breezy summer night. Boom: Boner Town. Again.
And then I hear words I never thought I’d hear out of this diminutive firebrand’s mouth. “Wanna come inside for coffee? We can start negotiations right now.”
Chapter Five
Molly
His jaw tightens and his eyes travel up to my neck, my mouth, my eyes.
This man is not my friend. Not my boyfriend. Not my lover. I don’t particularly like him. But the way he looks at me, at my body, my mouth, does something to me.
He wakes something up inside me.
I can’t believe it, but my chest, breasts, and ears heat under his gaze, making it very difficult to maintain the necessary level of indignation about my land.
And then, he smiles. Oh jeez. It’s sorcery. Those dimples. Three of them. One in each cheek and one in his chin. Deep green eyes that crinkle with bad boy mischief. Without his hat, his wavy, auburn hair is on full display. His locks are still slightly mussed from his pillow and begging to be combed by my fingers. Full lips that look strong yet soft and curl a bit unevenly when he shows his teeth. His aw-shucks grin reveals a set of straight white teeth, mostly. One canine tooth stands slightly, charmingly askew.
Despite his cocky behavior, his smile reveals a faint sweetness underneath.
“Sure,” he says, his voice dropping an octave and sending vibrations somewhere deep inside my panties.
My stomach does a somersault. I am excited yet instantly regretful that I invited him in, but here we are. Even if I wanted to retract my invitation, it would seem so wishy-washy now because he’s already halfway to the house.
On top of that, I’m seriously amused at the sight of Chloe, Fluffy, Dolly, and the entire pack falling in line at his heels. It’s like a parade of cute butts. Mostly furry butts, but one very nice masculine butt that’s barely disguised by low-slung flannel pajama bottoms.
Dang. I thought I was in charge of the dogs, but as far as this crew is concerned, there’s a whole new alpha in town.
Chapter Six
Daniel
Molly has piqued my interest, like a social studies project.
Crossing her rickety front porch, I make a mental note of the vintage rocking chair, a basket of newspapers and magazines, hanging plants strung with macramé harnesses, wind chimes that look like they’re right out of the 1970s with their frogs and mushrooms. The weathered screen door needs to be rescreened and the porch trim could use a coat of paint. Not to mention the floorboards of the porch could use replacing. Still, it has a cozy, welcoming feel that urges me to sit a spell.
If I feel at home on the porch, crossing the threshold and being inside the small craftsman house makes me feel like I have literally come home. Her honey maple hardwood floors creak in welcome. When the screen door slaps shut, it reminds me of my cousins and me barging in and out of our NaNa’s house back in Oklahoma.
The small army of dogs follows Molly down the short hall and into the kitchen on the left through the arched doorway. The black and white linoleum on the floor has to be original to the house. And so are the pink steel cabinetry and farmhouse sink.
This is a rare find.
Somewhere down deep in the back of my mind, another voice chimes in: “So is she.”