Hosed (Happy Cat #1)(15)

He hums dubiously and I wince, because even I don’t believe me.

“Give it a day.” He winks, and tingles race across my skin in response. “Tomorrow Maud and Gerald will get into it over her sexy cookies or someone’s goat will get loose in town hall and the farmers’ market will be forgotten.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think Happy Cat will ever forget that Savannah opened a sex toy factory here. I’ve only been home a week and a half, and I’ve already heard at least a hundred opinions about Sunshine Toys.” My phone dings, I glance down, and then I lift it to show him. “See?”

It’s a text from Gerald Hutchins informing me that if the mayor won’t shut down Savannah’s company, he’s going to the health department, because it’s in the best interest of the health of the youth of our community not to be subjected to sex on a daily basis.

Ryan rolls his eyes. “You know how much tax money the town gets from that factory? No one’s going to shut her down.”

I sigh, wishing I had ten percent of his faith that this was all going to blow over. “I admire her so much for putting the factory front and center here. I wouldn’t have done it. Not with the gossip train and small-town politics.”

“I hear you.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, mason jar dangling from his fingers. “But Happy Cat’s more than the gossip and small-town politics.”

I try really hard not to roll my eyes—that’s all I’ve experienced since getting here ten days ago—but I’m pretty sure I’m failing.

“It is,” he insists.

“Maybe for you,” I say. Though, honestly, if I weren’t presently a virgin attempting to run a sex toy company, I might feel differently about being in the center of a business that inspires so much gossip. I don’t need my lack of experience being the next breaking scandal in Happy Cat, and working with sex toys all day makes it all the more likely people will speculate on my love life.

I was more than happy to get out of Happy Cat when I left for college, as much to get out of the “Savannah Sunshine’s older sister” spotlight as anything else. I’m proud of Savannah, but all that attention just isn’t for me. Never has been, never will be. The only kind of attention I enjoy is praise from my supervisors, admiration from my peers, and…the way Ryan is looking at me right now, like he’d enjoy dribbling lemonade across my fingertips and sucking off every drop.

God, be still my heart. Seriously—Be. Still.

If it pounds any louder, surely Ryan will hear it.

“Not just for me,” he insists in this husky voice that makes all the little hairs on the back of my neck lift and my lips feel drunk. Just my lips, which are suddenly hot and kind of numb, but not in a bad way. “You have plans Saturday?”

Plans? What? What is he even talking about with that sexy voice of his? “No,” I finally manage to stammer, “b-but I—”

“Great. I’ll meet you here at nine.”

I blink. “Nine?”

“In the morning,” he clarifies with a grin. “So I can show you the glorious secret underbelly of Happy Cat.”

I would prefer to see your glorious secret underbelly, I think, but thankfully do not say out loud. But I almost do because my lips are under the influence of his sexy voice and his penetrating gaze and the tremendously tremendous smell of him.

“Tremendous,” I murmur, eyes going wide as I realize the word escaped my mouth and that, judging by Ryan’s grin, he thinks I’ve just agreed to the underbelly tour. I hurry to backtrack, “I mean, it would be tremendous if I didn’t have tons of work. Like…tons.”

He arches a dubious brow. “On a Saturday morning? When the factory’s closed?”

“The sex toy business never sleeps?” I say, but even I know that’s weak.

“Savannah misses you, you know,” he says. “She talks about you all the time.”

I narrow my eyes. “Oh, that’s just low.”

“Just saying, maybe you’d come see her more often if you knew what you were really missing here.” He winks at me, shamelessly, wickedly, and maybe…flirtatiously? “Make sure your bike’s ready. We’re going to need it.”

At that, my cheeks go nuclear again, because I can’t think about the bike without thinking about the dildo handlebars and dildos and I still aren’t casual acquaintances. “I do enjoy riding bikes, but—”

“I’ll pack the lemonade.”

He grins again, and I can’t help but laugh. “I think you’re cheating,” I say, swirling the last of the deadly delicious lemonade at the bottom of my mason jar. “This stuff is happy in a glass.”

“Good. I’ll keep it coming, then. Happy neighbors are important. They throw out fewer things for my raccoon to drag home in the dead of night.” He stands. “Nine o’clock Saturday morning. I’ll see you here.”

I start to hand him back his mason jar, but he shakes his head. “You’re not done yet. I’ll get it later.”

He leaves the house, whistling as he goes, and I wonder what on earth I just agreed to. A friendly outing? A guilt trip from a man who thinks I’m not taking my family obligations as seriously as I should?

Or…a date?