Page 19 of Sin

After the run-in with my father, I need to blow off some steam. It’s not only that. A few weeks in close proximity to Cassidy, and I need to get laid. Every moment around him is a temptation, and I’m desperately in need of a distraction.

“Sin,” I hear my name, and turn around to be totally knocked sideways by Cassidy standing there in faded cutoffs and an old red t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. My mouth goes dry at his trim, long-legged build.

“I’ve got something to show you,” he says. His eyes are sparkling and he’s smiling from ear to ear. His happiness hits me hard, stirring a curious emotional reaction—a mix between joy and longing.I want to be part of it. I want to be the cause of it.

He notices the keys in my hand. “I’m sorry. Were you going out? I didn’t mean to stop you.” He moves to turn away from me. “This can keep.”

“No,” I practically yell. All thoughts of Sea Side and finding a warm body or two to douse my obsession with Cassidy are gone in an instant. The need to be within the radius of his smile is overwhelming.

He looks back at me, curious at my outburst. “My plans were just canceled,” I tell him, and rush to his side. “What did you need?”

“I found the car. The one I want to claim from our bet.”

Good.He’d tried several times to welch on our bet, but I’d told him he was honor bound to go through with choosing one of my cars, knowing that playing his conscience would make him see it through.

“Which one?” I ask, knowing that there’s not a car in my collection I won’t happily hand over if it makes him this happy.

“I pick the truck. If that’s okay?”

“Truck?” I question. I have a couple of SUVs and a Jeep, but I don’t have a truck.

“It’s back here,” he calls, and I follow him to the far end of the garage. There in the corner is an old blue Ford not used since my father fired the full-time gardener and hired a landscaping service.

“Cassidy, I’m not sure it even runs.”

“It does,” he cheerily assures me. “Someone left the key inside. I turned the ignition, and after a few coughs and sputters, Betty Jo started right up for me.”

“Betty Jo?”

“Yep,” he puts his hand on the truck’s hood and gives it a loving caress. He looks up at me with huge, hopeful eyes. “Can I have her?”

I look at the old, beat-up truck, and then I look at Cassidy, who’s practically bouncing on his toes in anticipation. “I’ll call my mechanic, and ifBetty Jo,”I look to him for confirmation of the name, “checks out safety-wise, and you’re really sure you wouldn’t prefer one of my other cars, then it’s yours.”

“Really?” Cassidy says.

“Really,” I nod. “I’ll have Hal clean it for you. He maintains all the family cars.”

“She’s my truck, I’ll take care of her,” he insists. “I’m gonna go find a bucket and some towels to give her a wash.”

“No need,” I tell him, pointing to the ceiling of the garage where there is a complicated system of pipes, bars, and pulleys that allow for each vehicle to be spray-washed and rinsed.

“Rich people,” Cassidy mutters with a grin, and grabs the nozzle and depresses the handle to begin rinsing down the truck. The water pressure must be stronger than he expected because the nozzle gets away from him, and it ends up spraying me in a hard blast of ice-cold water.

“Oh, shit,” he says, and drops the nozzle, causing it to hang from the bar it’s suspended from. “I’m so sorry.”

I push my dripping wet hair back and look at Cassidy, who’s standing there frozen. “You should be,” I tell him, slowly advancing on him to give him time to wonder just what I’m about to do to him, “because payback’s a bitch.” I pounce on him and grab the nozzle at the same time. Holding him still, I aim the hose and shoot him with a soapy blast of water. He screams and, with a quick move, grabs the nozzle back from me. Not about to let him win, I twist us around so we are both in the blast radius.

“Mutual destruction,” I warn him, pretty sure the quiet, well-behaved Cassidy will call this off.

A slow, mischievous spark enters his eyes, and I’m so transfixed by it that I’m completely surprised by another blast of cold, sudsy water blasting us both.

“You little shit!” I yell. Cassidy lets out a giggle in response that rocks me. I can’t help joining him with a deep, rumbly laugh that makes me feel younger and lighter somehow.

Then Cassidy decides to start trash talking. “Thought you were tough, huh? Guess I showed you,” he says, making a fatal error and forgetting I’m the cocky one in this relationship.

I let go of the hose. “Take that back.”

He looks at me, sizing me up. “No,” he says brattily, putting both hands on his hips, almost as a sassy exclamation point.

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