Hud still didn’t speak, making it clear that Kenna wasn’t the only one pissed at him. “I’ll go see her in the morning.”
“That’d be good,” Penny said softly, not missing the silent and tense exchange between Hud and Jacob. “She could use some one-on-one time with you, I think.”
Awkward silence while everyone divided a look between Hud and Jacob.
“So we playing darts or standing around holding hands?” Hud finally asked.
Penny sighed. She didn’t say anything, but the sigh spoke volumes, mostly that she thought men were ridiculous.
“Crickets,” Jacob said decisively, and palmed the darts.
“Now, see, that’s what I’m talking about,” Gray said, slinging an arm around Jacob’s neck, hooking him in. “Crickets. Kincaids play crickets.” He jostled Jacob. “Missed you, man.” And with that simple sentence slaying Jacob straight through, Gray let him go, snatched the darts, and stepped up to go first.
Jacob didn’t move, couldn’t. “So…we’re good?”
“Yeah,” Aidan said. “Though you’re still a dumbass.”
Gray nodded.
Penny beamed.
But Hud didn’t speak, didn’t give any indication that he’d heard Jacob’s question at all, and Jacob knew.
They weren’t all good.
Chapter 8
Sophie dreamed about hot, drugging kisses and Jacob’s warm, hard, perfect body. She woke up at the crack of dawn overheated, and for a bonus, also sporting a splitting headache. Thank you, Scotch.
Not.
No, scratch that. She blamed Lucas. For everything.
Feeling better about reassigning the blame, she pulled on sweats and did the only thing she knew to do. She walked to McDonald’s, because nothing fixed a hangover like a carbo-load of greasy hash browns and pancakes.
She doubled the order and walked to the lake, making excellent time because she was hungry. She was on the dock when her phone rang with a number she didn’t recognize. “Hello?” she answered warily.
“Sexy Sophie…”
She sighed. “Hey, Jimbo.”
“How’s it shaking, babe?”
“Terrific, great, couldn’t be better.”
He laughed.
And she sighed again. “Okay, so I know I told Brooklyn to give you my number, but it was a weak moment. I don’t think I could ever really go through with this sort of thing.”
“Trust me, sweet cheeks, it’s easy. All you’ve gotta do is be encouraging. And maybe let out a few moans here and there.”
“Encouraging?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Talk ’em through it. Tell them what you’re wearing—that’s always a conversation starter.”
Sophie looked down at her sweats. And they weren’t the cute Victoria’s Secret kind of sweats either. More like the Walmart midnight shopper kind. “Well…”
“Lie,” Jimbo said, reading her mind.
“And the encouragement part?” she asked.
“Just say stuff like…” He affected a woman’s voice. “‘Oh, I’ve been hoping you’d call. I’ve been bad, so very bad. I need a spanking,’ and then you throw in a ‘Thank you, sir, may I have another’ and you’re golden.”
She was nearly boggled right out of her hangover. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I never kid about business.”
“But…people don’t say any of that stuff in a real life, do they?”
He just laughed. “Look at it like it’s an acting job, all right? It’s all just a gig. Like playing Fifty Shades with your boyfriend. And don’t even try to tell me you haven’t done that.”
If Lucas had tried to play Fifty Shades with her, she’d have killed him and no one would have ever found his body. And thinking about Lucas reminded her that even thinking of phone sex as a job was all his fault, making her groan.
“Yes!” Jimbo said with glee. “Just like that, only a little louder. Also, it helps if you pant a little. And add in a soft, helpless whimper once in a while, like you’re totally into it.”
Sophie sighed and nearly fell overboard when Jimbo laughed and yelled, “Yes! That’s it, baby, just like that. Come on, give me just one little ‘do me harder!’ and I’ll know you’re ready for the big league.”
There was no way she was going to do this, but she had to laugh at his enthusiasm for his job. Must be nice to love what you did for a living. “People can’t be serious about this.”
“As a heart attack.” But he was laughing, too, teasing her. He knew she wasn’t going to really take this job.
And because he was being a good sport, and because she was hungover and feeling a what-the-hell ’tude, she teased too. “Oh, Jimbo, I’ve been a very, very bad girl,” she said in her best frog-in-throat, can’t-catch-my-breath voice, throwing in a ragged, broken moan that might have sounded like a cat in heat. “Please, sir, I need a spanking.”
She waited for his laugh, but it didn’t come. In fact, there was nothing but static. “Hello?”