Melanie smiles, still enjoying being the center of attention, and lifts the lid of the box, grabs two cannolis, and then gestures for Jack to take the box. “You’re more than welcome.”
Once the box of cannolis are on the move, so are the guys, and I’m left alone with the beautiful woman hoarding more than her fair share of the cannolis.
“You gonna share?” I point at the pastries in her hands. We’re in that strange place between friends and acquaintances with a dash of sexual tension thrown in for good measure.
“Maybe.”
“List your demands,” I say with a smirk. She bites at her bottom lip as a blush rises to her cheeks. Her sudden shyness only encourages me. I like her like this. It’s not often that I’ve seen Melanie be anything but self-assured.
“One,” she says, finding her confidence, “stop calling me Melanie. I prefer Mel. And two, party at my parents’ beach house next weekend. I already checked the schedule, and you and Hennessey are both off, so don’t be lame, mmkay?”
“You checked our schedules?”
She makes a dismissive sound and teases me with the cannolis by taking a bite out of one and smiling as she licks off the cream that’s collected on her lips. I’ve never been jealous of a pastry until now. Melanie fucking Kincaid and her goddamn cannolis are going to drive me out of my mind.
“Your mom keeps everyone’s schedules posted on her fridge. Jack already apologized for not being able to make it. Apparently he’s got a Bee Scout dance to attend,” Melanie says. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to agree to go to this thing, but if it gets me more time with her . . .
“Ah, Bee Scouts. His date would never forgive him if he stood her up,” I say in reference to Jack’s six-year-old daughter. “Well, I’m not going to leave you alone with H, so I’m game.”
“Awesome,” she says and finally gives up the cannoli she hasn’t half eaten. Having been teased with the cannoli for far too long, I end up eating it in two bites. Mel is still working through the final bites of hers a few minutes later. She’s the slowest eater ever.
“Hey, Kincaid,” the Chief barks from across the room. Mel turns and smiles at him. He lifts a cannoli in the air and gives her a nod. “Good work. You start Monday.”
Mel gives the Chief a thumbs-up and grins with her mouth full. Christ, that’s cute. Mel being sexy I could deal with. Sexy is like a real-life porno that gets my dick hard. But cute? Cute isn’t about sex. Cute is friendship and respect and other shit I’m not ready to vocalize.
But what the fuck is the Chief talking about? I raise my brows and wait for her to explain. Her eyes land on me, and she licks her lips and then sucks the filling off her fingers. Grinning with her mouth full is cute. Sucking shit off her fingers is sexy as fuck. Cute I want to take to a movie. Sexy I want to bend over the hood of the truck and fuck senseless.
“I’m your new house watch volunteer until summer’s end,” she says and stands from the couch. I follow her lead, ready to walk her out but not ready to see her go. We walk to the landing and then head down the stairs to the second floor. It’s bad enough I have her at my parents’ house all the time, but now she’s going to be in my house, with my guys? Chief had mentioned that due to budget cuts we would have to get a volunteer in here to watch the desk, but I thought it would be someone at least trained in minimal emergency response tactics. Maybe even, you know, be able to do CPR.
“You got a fire pole in this place?” she asks, slowing at the second-floor landing and shamelessly looking around. Her question catches me off guard, but does what I need it to—it distracts me from figuring out how I’m going to keep my shit straight with her here all the time.
“Yeah, but you can’t slide down it. House policy.” I place my hand on her back in an effort to encourage her on down the stairs. She takes the hint, and we make our way to the first floor and to the front pedestrian entrance.
“We’ll see,” she mumbles so quietly that I almost miss it.
“Thanks for the cannoli.” I shove my hands in my pockets.
She turns around, brows drawn together, and folds her arms over her chest. “Jameson Hayes, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you don’t want me sliding down your pole.”
I do my best to keep my jaw off the floor, but it doesn’t do much good. Clearing my throat, I cough into my hand and then rub the back of my neck. She’s doing just about everything she can muster to push me over the edge. Not that she has to push much.
“Anyway,” she says, “if you have to bring Miss Cranky Pants, you can. But if you happen to be flying solo on Saturday, that’d be cool, too.”
Girlfriend, right. I keep fucking forgetting about her.
“Miss Cranky Pants?”
“Yeah, she always looks cranky.”
I smile, but only for a moment before it falls.
“Later, Lulu,” I say, but it’s quiet. I doubt she hears me.
Mel’s off with a wave, and I’m left standing in the open doorway feeling nothing but frustration.
Chapter 5