Lie, Lie Again(6)

“Thanks. You make the best treats. You could open your own bake shop.”

Embry smiled. “There was a time I was working on it. I was hoping to start with a stand at the farmers’ market. I got my permit, but then Carson came along, and well . . .”

“Life got in the way,” Riki finished. “And I’m going to have to carve out time for extra spin classes if you keep giving me cookies.” She wouldn’t let them pay her for babysitting, but nonetheless, Embry insisted on sending home-baked treats with her every time she watched the kids.

Brandon rubbed a hand down his stomach—the stomach that Riki knew was muscled to perfection. Every Saturday morning, she was reminded of that when he cut the grass shirtless. Apparently, the Taylors’ rent was reduced thanks to his mowing skills. Whatever the case, if she timed it right, she never missed a viewing.

“Don’t I know it? It’s hard to resist the sweet stuff.”

Her face flamed hotter. Was that a double entendre? Was he referring to her as the sweet stuff? The smile remained on his lips. It was too much. She veered her eyes to Embry. “Thanks again for these. They won’t really kill me, right?”

Embry’s hazel eyes grew wide. “Huh?”

“Death-by-chocolate?” When Embry still didn’t get it, she added, “Poisoned cookies?”

She shook her head, laughing. “Goodness! I’ve never considered how strange the name is. Of course they’re not poisoned.”

“Right. Bad joke.” Riki tried for a laugh, but it fell flat. “Yes, well, good night, you guys. I have an early morning. It’s the jog-a-thon at school tomorrow. Bye!” She didn’t wait for a response.

Once the door was closed behind her, she sped across the long driveway to her apartment, trying to escape the frustration that chased her. It would be really nice if she had an antidote for her body’s response to Brandon.

But the truth of the matter was, he was a magnetic force she couldn’t resist. As she unlocked the door, her bag slid from her shoulder, and she heard the rip of fabric. Shoot. She’d stuffed it too full, and now the strap was tearing at the seam. Tomorrow at school, she could staple it with the industrial stapler. Or maybe one of her students could do a creative duct-tape job on it. That was the hot new fad: duct tape. Her students had already gifted her with a wallet, a key chain, and too many bracelets to count. Today she was wearing one Chloe had made with sparkly pink tape.

Setting the cookies on the counter, she scrubbed her hands at the sink before lifting the foil and plucking one from the plate. She sank her teeth into it, and her eyes fell shut as the flavors teased her taste buds until they were wide-awake and begging for more. Embry worked magic in the kitchen, but the best Riki could do was plop premade dough onto a tray and end up with semiburned rocks. She shouldn’t have made the dumb joke about poisoned cookies. Of course Embry wouldn’t poison her. Embry wasn’t the terrible person in this scenario.

The sound of Sylvia’s TV buzzed from the apartment above hers. She couldn’t make out the words, but based on the canned laughter, she assumed it was some dumb sitcom from two decades ago. Or maybe it was Friends. Sylvia loved that show. She looked like she could be Monica’s sister, but Sylvia’s figure was softer than Monica’s thin frame. The dark hair and light eyes, though? Eerily similar.

Wiping the crumbs into the trash can, she washed her hands again and sank onto the sofa. She considered turning on her own TV but was too lazy to reach for the remote. Tonight had been draining. Guilt tried to settle in next to her on the sofa, but she shoved it to the floor. It wasn’t like she’d done anything bad. She’d only looked at the shirts hanging on Brandon’s side of the closet. She hadn’t even touched them with her hands, only her eyes.

Her heart sped up in her chest. Jeez, she was like her own lie-detector test. Even though she tried to block it from her memory, her brain was eager to replay the scene in flaming color. There she was, pressing her face into a stack of Brandon’s clean Tshirts, breathing them in and hoping for a trace of his scent. And then she’d rubbed his shorts against her wrists, transferring a touch of her perfume to them so when he took them from his drawer, he’d think of her. Guilt slithered from where she’d chucked it and began snaking up her leg, making her hands shake. What if they’d bought a nanny cam? She closed her eyes and tried to recall if anything new had been in their room, but her brain was like a freaking toddler skipping in circles and singing, Who took the cookie from the cookie jar? Riki took the cookie from the cookie jar!

Who me?

Yes you!

Not me!

We know it was you.

Oh, jeez. She needed to stop. This was getting out of hand. But in her defense, she wouldn’t have considered the perfume bit if he hadn’t told her she smelled nice the other day. When he made it big in Hollywood, he’d have to be a lot more careful about throwing compliments around like confetti. He’d end up with millions of women wishing they could be in bed next to him. They wouldn’t care that he was married to an adorable girl with bubblegum lips, voluptuous boobs, and dazzling hazel eyes. She even smelled good, like she bathed in rose petals.

Riki sat up, her senses alert. That was it! She had been at the mall last weekend and had wandered into a shop that sold soaps, scrubs, and candles fragranced with scents that had her dreaming of Paris gardens and tropical vacations. A pale-pink candle had caught her eye, and she’d held it to her nose. Her brain had staggered in circles, attempting to touch down on what person or memory the scent conjured.