“Same difference, m’dear.” He pulled several mugs down from the overhead cabinet, seeming to know exactly where everything was.
“Nice to meet you,” Jackson said cordially, but then he retreated to the counter opposite them and fell silent. Maybe her imagination was running wild with this awkward encounter, but she didn’t get the feeling the guy thought meeting her was as nice as he said. Hell. She shouldn’t be here. She and Jared had been broadcasting wrong impressions all night.
Beside her, he scrubbed his face and head with one of the towels she’d left, which had been hanging around his neck. “Thanks so much for doing this,” he said to her.
“No problem. Did you find them all?”
“Yeah. Even patched the fence up. It should hold until I can work on it more tomorrow.”
“Crazy out there,” Mr. Stanton remarked, leaning over to watch the show of lightning still going on outside. “If they get out again, boy, you’re on your own.” His tone said he was joking, but she still couldn’t imagine being out there in that storm.
“I guess I’ll have to manage,” Jared said with a laugh.
The four of them gathered around the kitchen island and sipped from steaming mugs, small talk ensuing. She’d never been good at that. Fast talking, shit talking, dirty talking, sure, but not small talking. It was torture to smile and engage and act civil. And it occurred to her that she would probably find herself in this situation if she ever left her job and found a new one. She was comfortable where she was, everyone knew her and knew not to take her shit too seriously most of the time. She was used to that. What if she found herself settling for some quiet office with a bunch of stuck-up bitches? Jesus, she hated stuck-up bitches.
Not that Jared’s family seemed to be that. His dad was definitely a character, and even Jackson warmed up a bit—maybe the coffee had replenished his good humor. They asked about her life and seemed to listen to her answers. They didn’t make any nudge-nudge-wink-wink insinuations as to why she was here. She couldn’t ask for more than that, right? And as soon as the coffeepot was empty and the storm seemed to lull a bit, they said their good-byes and were gone.
“Damn,” Jared said after closing the door on their departure and wandering back into the kitchen where she stood. “What a night.”
“Insane,” she agreed, then drained her cup and carried it to the sink to rinse it out.
“If you don’t mind,” he said into the ensuing silence, “I’m going to take a quick shower. It was muddy out there.”
“Oh, sure.” She wanted nothing more than to help him wash off some of that mud. Unfortunately, time and caffeine had cleared most of the tequila-induced fog from her head, and she couldn’t push the words out. Then again…if she had a clear head, then maybe the night held promise once again. Shivers skittered through her belly at the thought. “Be right back,” Jared said, and she turned to watch him retreat down the hall. The rear view was just as yummy as the front, all broad shoulders and narrow hips and grab-worthy ass.
All four mugs washed and dried and replaced, Starla sighed and looked around for something else to kill time yet again. She played on her phone, she watched TV…and finally thought, Fuck it, I give up. She flopped back on the couch and gave in to her full-blown fantasies of Jared naked in his shower, the water streaming down that powerful body, his hands moving over it as he washed. Wet and soapy slick. Strong fingers wrapping around a thick cock, giving it a long, slow stroke as he thought about sinking into her. Her own body clenched in response; her own fingers ached to creep down into her jeans. If he found her masturbating on his couch, though, how would he react? Hot as it sounded, she couldn’t imagine. It certainly might move things along.
She smirked at the thought, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the weatherman breaking in on the TV to warn of another approaching storm. Wonderful. At least maybe Jared could ride this one out with her, snuggled on the couch as she’d suggested earlier. Being wrapped in the warmth of his arms sounded much more preferable to chewing her nails worried about his safety out there.
When he came out five minutes later, she nearly choked on pure air. Wearing a light heather-gray T-shirt that kissed his muscles in all the right places and worn, soft-looking jeans, he was pure heaven to behold. And he didn’t even realize what he was doing to her, because as soon as he spied her on his couch, he said, entirely too conversationally: “Hey, I’m a dumbass. I didn’t even think. If you want to change, I’m sure I can dig something up. You’re probably freezing.”
“I’m actually pretty dry now.” Everywhere but between my legs. “It’s okay.”
“Sorry. I suck as a host.”
You can totally suck— “No, you’re awesome.” For the first time, she noticed the dark blue blanket slung across one of his forearms. Awesome, indeed. One corner of his mouth lifted in a sexy grin.