I’m sad about her not staying in bed, but not for long. The sight of Cassie padding around my kitchen in nothing but a tee shirt that barely skims the top of her thighs is not something I’m going to complain about.
Thirty minutes later, she slides onto a stool beside me at the kitchen counter, grabbing a fork and tucking into the eggs and bacon I whipped up in the cast iron skillet. She gives a happy moan. “Oh, man. I don’t think breakfast has ever tasted so good.”
“It’s the cast iron skillet,” I say around a bite of sinfully good smoked bacon. “And starvation. That’s part of my game plan. Make sure you’re so hungry anything I feed you will taste restaurant quality.”
Her eyes dance. “Speaking of restaurants… Since we have the whole day, I was thinking maybe we could go for a bike ride together first, before we take George for his. I mean, it doesn’t seem right to have eggs and bacon without a cinnamon roll.”
I grin. “I like the way you think, Sunderwell.” I lean in, bringing my lips a whisper away from hers. “I like the way you kiss even more.”
“Ditto.” She kisses me, slow and sexy, her tongue teasing against mine, confirming that everything is indeed better with bacon. Even smoking hot kisses.
After breakfast, I dress and take George out for a brief weed of the garden while Cassie runs back to her place to shower and call into the office to announce that she’ll be working remotely. While I’m watering the cucumbers, I check in with the town InstaChat page to see if there have been any new developments only to find the gossip mill running wild. News of Cassie’s conversation with the sheriff has gotten out and the warring camps are escalating the conflict to outright warfare.
One look at Cassie’s face as she wheels her bike down her drive makes it clear she’s seen it, too.
“I shouldn’t have looked,” she says, lips turned down hard at the edges. “I can’t believe anyone thinks Savannah or I had anything to do with the fire or trashing the square or anything else. We would never put people at risk. Or intentionally damage the company she worked so hard to build.”
“I know that,” I say, without the slightest shred of doubt. Last night wasn’t just sexy as hell, it was also intimate, revealing. Cassie dropped her walls and let me in, revealing the pure sweetness at the heart of her. She isn’t capable of the kind of deception people are accusing her of, which is probably why this is so hard for her to understand. “People see the world as they are, not as you are, you know? It’s not your fault they’re so eager to see the worst in others, even when it’s not there.”
She frowns, blinking beneath her furrowed brows. “You’re right, but it still makes me sad. I didn’t realize there were this many bitter people in Happy Cat. They should change the name to Cynical Cat.”
“Pessimistic Cat, maybe?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Nah, Cranky Badger. Do away with the cat part altogether.”
I smile. “I think that’s redundant. Aren’t badgers always cranky?”
“I don’t know, I’m not on intimate terms with many badgers.” She cocks her head, shifting her attention to George, who is washing baby tomatoes he stole from the Honey Gold vine. We keep a water dish outside for just this reason. “What about you, George? Do you know many badgers?”
George pops a tomato in his mouth and chews, seeming to consider the question. Cassie smiles in response. “I wish he could talk. I have a feeling all the stuff milling around in his head would blow our minds.”
“I’m not so sure. I think he’s mostly thinking about what he just ate, what he’s currently eating, or when he’s going to eat again.”
“To be fair, that’s probably also true of half the people in this town,” she says, grinning guiltily as she props her arms on her handlebars. “Including me. I don’t care if I’m persona non grata around here. I still want cinnamon rolls. And more coffee.” She taps her new cup holder, the one I installed for her the day after our first date. “Thanks for this, by the way. You’re the best.”
“You’re welcome.” I grin. “Let’s head out. I’m done here.” I shut off the hose and turn to her, wiping my damp hands on my jeans. “But I think we should make a promise to each other—no checking InstaChat or email until tomorrow morning.”
She stands up straight, pressing her lips together in a determined line. “You’re right. No need to let gossip spoil the day. And who knows, maybe by then they will have moved on to something else.”
Not likely, I think, but I keep the pessimistic thought to myself. Today isn’t a day for dwelling on small-minded people or law-enforcement officials more concerned with making convenient connections than the right ones. Today is for enjoying the company of a woman who is quickly becoming one of my favorite people.
By the time we get back from our bike ride and coffee treat, we’re feeling no pain, too high on sugar, caffeine, and last night’s orgasm hangover to give negative things an ounce of our attention. And then Cassie suggests a swim and a picnic down by the creek and the day gets even better.
I have the pleasure of rubbing sunscreen on her fine back and watching her stretch out on a towel wearing nothing but a red, 1940s pin-up style one piece that is by far the sexiest piece of swimwear I’ve ever seen. We jot down notes for her app design in her notebook over chicken salad sandwiches and exchange war stories about our worst jobs ever—mine, cleaning the fry cooker at The Little Chicken; hers, fetching coffee for a gaming designer who left water bottles full of urine all over his office for her to dispose of.
“And he made me recycle them,” she says, gagging softly as we wander down to the water’s edge. “So gross.”
I wince in sympathy, but can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry. That’s awful. Why are guys so gross?”
She squeezes my hand. “Not all guys. You’re not gross. Not even a little bit.”
I cut a glance her way. “You haven’t seen the inside of my garage.”
“I don’t care about the inside of your garage,” she says. “Just the inside of you. The heart and all that.”
“All that is in fine working shape. Especially when you’re around.” I draw her close in the chilly spring-fed creek, warm her up with a kiss, and drift off for a nap an hour later with her lying on my chest in the summer sun, certain life doesn’t get much better than this.
It’s an idle thought, but when I wake up, it’s still drumming softly inside my head.
Life doesn’t get much better than this…
Much better than someone who makes you laugh and makes you think and makes you feel like everything is right with the world because she’s there beside you.
The suspicion that I’m in deeper than I would have imagined possible after a few dates teases at the back of my mind, becoming something close to a certainty. And then Cassie and I take George for his tricycle ride and she laughs all the way down to the end of our road and back, that gorgeous, free and easy laugh only the people she trusts get to hear, and I’m going, going…
“But he needs a helmet,” Cassie says, beaming at my ridiculous raccoon as he picks up speed, chasing a leaf down the blacktop. “Got to protect that big beautiful brain of his. I’ll order one tonight. Two day delivery.”
Gone.
I’m gone.
She’s worried about my fur rascal’s brain and she’s already got my heart in her hands.
I stop, turning to her in the sunset light, memorizing the way she’s smiling at me, so wide open and fearless it takes my breath away. I want to remember every second of this, of the moment I realized I’m in love with the girl next door. She returns my lingering look, the softness in her eyes making me hope she feels it too, how close we are to something incredible.
Close, and getting closer with every passing day.
And now, hopefully, with every passing night.
“Stay over again?” I ask, taking her hand. “I promise to feed you this time before I have my way with you.”
She traps her lip between her teeth as she nods. “Yes, but I have a special request, if that’s okay?”
I reach out, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear. “Of course. Anything your stomach desires. I’ve got chicken and pork chops in the fridge that I can throw on the grill. Or if you’re in the mood for vegetarian, I can grab a few things from the garden and—”
“Not that kind of special request,” she says. “Though any and all of that sounds amazing, I just… I thought maybe…” Breath rushing out, she reaches into her purse, whipping out a plastic box with a hot pink dildo inside. “Maybe you could teach me what to do with this? I mean, I have a basic idea, but…”
My brows lift. “Well, I would. But I confess I’ve never used one.”
“You haven’t?” She blinks and a second later rolls her eyes. “Oh. Right. Why would you? You have a perfectly good…” She waves a hand in the general direction of my cock, making me laugh.
“I do,” I say. “But it doesn’t seem that complicated. I’m pretty sure we can figure it out.”
She arches a brow. “Yeah? You think? If we put our heads together?”
“And all our other parts.” I gather her into my arms, letting my hands slide down the small of her back to cup her bottom through her shorts. “Thanks for asking me. I’d be honored to help you figure out what you like.”
Her palms smooth up my chest. “I like you.”
“I like you too. So much.” I lean down, capturing her mouth for a slow, sultry kiss I wish never had to end.
Twenty-Three
From the texts of Cassie Sunderwell and
Savannah Sunderwell
Savannah: I’m going to put the company up for sale. It’s time. If the press gets any worse I’m going to have to pay someone to take it off my hands.