Page 95 of Best Served Cold

“Lead on, Soph.”

I collect the money from the cashier, who doesn’t seem impressed with us, and then buy our crappy ribbon. I can’t seem to stop grinning, even when we get back to the car and find that the flowers have wilted in the heat, and we now have only forty-five minutes before I need to leave for work.

By the time we collect my car and get back to my house, we only have twenty minutes to work on the corsage and boutonniere.

“We’ll have to do this quickly,” I say, leading him inside to the kitchen.

“Aye aye.”

I pause, because there’s a note from Otis on the small kitchen table:

I’m making another attempt at catching the pigeon, Soph. She’s been spotted in Biltmore Village. I’ve got herfavorite snack to lure her in. Also, there’s something I want to discuss with you. Can we talk later?

Rob gives me a wicked grin and waves the note at me. “You think this is about the condoms?”

“Yes,” I say, setting our purchases down, and bury my face in my hands. “He’ll probably never let me hear the end of it. I can’t believe I did that.”

He pulls my hand away so I can see his smile. “I can. Just like I believe you can make one hell of a corsage in eighteen and a half minutes.”

“Why, Mr. Price. Did you just issue a challenge?” I say.

“Oh,absolutely.”

“Well then. Iaccept.” I give him my sauciest grin and hurry into the kitchen to grab the scissors, floral tape, and a safety pin from the junk drawer. Am I stretching my own rules by using a couple of things I already have? Assuredly. But I’m having too much fun to care.

“But there’s a complication,” he tells me, his tone thick with mischief and intent. “You have to do it from my lap.”

The scissors clatter as I drop them onto the table, and the safety pin settles without a sound. The green floral tape rolls for a second before tipping onto its side.

“Oh. Should I get the yellow condom?”

He swears, a smile turning up his lips. “Yellow’s next?”

“Yellow’s next. We’ll have to be quick, though.”

“I’m not going to stop you.”

I run upstairs to grab it, then hurry back down to find Rob sitting in a chair in front of the flowers, waiting for me.

“We have less than fifteen minutes,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me to him. “Seems like you’d better get going with those flowers.”

I climb into his lap, my whole body vibrating with awareness of him. The rough texture of his jeans. The heat of his hardness pressing into me. I rock back against it, and he groans, then slides the chair in toward the table.

“You really want me to work on these?”

“Fourteen minutes,” he says, his voice strained as he wraps a hand around my hip, pinning me in place.

So I get started, taking the flowers out of their wrapping and choosing matching sets for the corsage and boutonniere. I’ve just gotten the flower selection sorted when he flicks up the skirt of my dress and parts my thighs with his other hand.

I can feel him getting harder underneath me.

I peer back at him. “Yellow condom time?”

But he shakes his head. “Keep going, Soph. You’ve got this.”

“So you’re going to torment me?” I ask.

His laughter radiates through me. “I’m tormenting myself too, so at least it’s fair.”

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