The Feel Good Factor(20)

I give him my best staring-down-perps stare. “It’s illegal to dislike wine in wine country. You might, in fact, be banished from the town limits. By me.”

He smiles. “Just messing with you, officer. Of course I like wine.”

“Good answer, Mr. Trouble.”

Winking, he enters and drops his bag on the floor in the entryway.

I head to the kitchen, gesturing for him to follow. As I glance quickly at my mostly neat living room, I’m reminded I wasn’t expecting a man tonight. If I had known he was coming, I’d have done the Swiffer-duster dance, cleaning every surface, spraying the bathroom mirrors, putting away every container of deodorant or bottle of Midol to make sure he never knew I might possibly sweat or have PMS.

I’d have sidled up to the door, a touch of gloss on and something casual but sexy framing my figure.

Instead, I’m in jammies and wearing no face paint. There’s no cosmetic artifice, but what do I have to hide anyway?

In the kitchen, he scans my collection of fridge magnets, which covers almost every square inch of the appliance. They’re nearly all vintage-style pictures of women saying sarcastic things, courtesy of my retro-loving friend, Vanessa.

Yoga class? I thought you said pour another glass.

And I thought I wanted a career. Turns out I just wanted paychecks.

You piqued my indifference.

He smirks, tapping the last one. “Very you.”

“Is it?”

“Full of sass and spark.”

I smile. “You’ve got me there.” I grab a bottle of chardonnay and a wine opener.

“Let me.” He reaches for the bottle before I can say I am woman, I can do it all.

Watching him open the bottle also feeds my inner vixen. Is it my imagination or do those tattoos ripple when his muscles move?

I grab wineglasses and give them to him.

He pours and hands me a glass, raising his own. “Should we drink to good witches? Or bad witches?”

I look down at the ridiculous pattern on the pants. “We’ll drink to Monday night laundry.”

“And to simple misunderstandings?”

My heart pangs with guilt again as I take a sip. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe he really thought that made sense to rent it to you.”

“Don’t think twice about it.”

“You agree, right?”

“Of course.”

“So we’re on the same page,” I say, pressing.

“Let me make one thing clear.” He meets my gaze, his dark-brown eyes holding mine intently. “I had every intention of meeting you on Thursday night, kissing you senseless until your knees wobbled and your panties were so damn wet you had to come home to change. I’d have gotten you so goddamn riled up, you’d be squirming on your bed that night, aching and wet again, and call me, begging me to talk dirty to you till you came hard with your fingers.”

Oh. My. God.

I’m officially a melted puddle of lust. Grab a mop, swab me up. I’m liquid, molten desire seeping across my kitchen floor.

I part my lips to speak, but a moan traitorously escapes instead.

A fucking moan.

I clamp my lips shut.

He arches a brow, his eyes saying he likes that sound. “And I still want that. Do you?”

I test my jaw to see if it works. Oh hey, it does. “Sure. That’s why living together would be a bad idea.”

“Absolutely. Besides, I’m sure I can get the money back from him.”

My shoulders fall. “You already paid for the room?”

“First month’s rent. It’s not a big deal, and we’ll clear it up. I’ll get the money back.”

The knife of guilt slices deeper. “Of course he’ll give you the money back. Did you sign an agreement too?”

“Yes, but we’re all adults here. If you want out, that’s cool.”

I take a drink of wine, noodling on his dilemma. If I’m kicking him out of a deal, I need to find a place for him. I need to understand, too, what he’s looking for and why. “Why don’t you have a place to stay?”

“I’ve been staying at my sister’s house, as I said. Her husband was called overseas shortly after the baby was born, and the timing worked out with me looking for a new job. I took one here so I could be near Jodie while he’s in Afghanistan.”

My heart lurches with sympathy. That’s precisely what he told me when I pulled him over, minus the Afghanistan part. I can’t imagine how hard that must be for his sister—and for his brother-in-law, to have to leave his family.

“How is she managing without him?”

“She’s a tough cookie. It’s not his first time having to go, so she’s accustomed to it. But it’s not easy, especially since she’s a working mom.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a baker. She sells the best walnut blue cheese bread at the farmers market.”

Pride suffuses his voice as he talks about his sister. Hunger rumbles in my belly when he mentions the bread. “Jodie?”

His chocolate-brown eyes light up. “That’s her. You know her?”

“I know of her. Her bread is legendary, and I might have been known to indulge in a loaf or two.”

His smile spreads across his face. “That’s awesome. I’ll have to let her know. Seems like she’s heard of you too.”