Page 65 of Casita Casanova
Hmm. Yes. Coffee. Nodding, I step past her into the kitchen and retrieve a mug. “You have any travel mugs?”
“Why are you in such a hurry this morning?”
I glance at her over my shoulder as I pour coffee into a non-travel mug. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Her eyes narrow, but there’s a playfulness in them. Something’s changed between us since she told me we could only be friends. Fuck me if I know what that is, but I don’t question a gift horse.
And let’s be honest, it’s probably just my irresistible charm.
I drink the coffee as quickly as possible without burning my mouth, watching Maryn while I do.
This morning ritual of ours feels intimate and special. I like it.
I’ve never even had coffee with Lex, and we’ve been fucking for years. The thought of her tightens my throat and I have to swallow past the feeling. She was upset last time she left my house, and even though I have no idea why, I should have asked. When my new phone gets delivered, I’ll call her second cell number and see if we’re cool.
Maryn’s shoulders rise and fall, alerting me to the fact that I’m focused on the inch of cleavage peeking out from above that ugly nightgown.
Smirking, I lift my gaze to meet her eyes. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” She rolls her eyes and turns her back to me, rinsing her mug in the sink.
I cross the kitchen and stand behind her, then lean down to bring my mouth close to her ear. Smiling when her body goes rigid, I say, “You’re right. I’m not.” I rinse my mug in the water, casually breathing her in and watching her profile as that flustered blush seeps into her cheeks, then I step back and open the dishwasher to her right. After I place the mug in, I grab hers from her hand and place it into the dishwasher beside mine, then wink. “Told you that nightgown wasn’t a deterrent.”
Her lips purse but she can’t hide her smile.
“Thanks for the coffee,neighbor.”
I grab the keys off the hook beside the door and step down the stairs quickly, leaving her speechless and probably breathless. I hope the heat of my skin is still seared into her back.
Striding to the front of the house, I walk through the gate and close it behind me, looking at all the cars.
There’s a white minivan with a busted front bumper and a burgundy four-door shitbox parked in front of the house. There isn’t a Rolls or Bentley in sight. I miss my Vantage. I step out into the middle of the street and scan the potential vehicles. There’s a navy blue, older model beamer a few houses down, and a sleek, black S-Class is parked on the other side of the street. Glancing back at the cars parked directly in front of Maryn’s, I shrug. Maybe parking isn’t assigned, and she had to park a few doors down.
I flip through the keys on the ring, locate a generic clicker, then hold it up in the air and aim it toward the Mercedes.
When I press the button, the van beeps behind me.
“Oh no.” I hang my head. “This isn’t happening.”
I hold the keys up and hit the button again because this can’t be right, but this time, I look at the van so I can be sure the S-Class isn’t throwing its voice.
Again, the minivan honks and flashes its lights at me like it’s excited.
At least one of us is.
Shaking my head, I step over to the van and look up toward the house. Maryn is sitting on the steps of her front porch, grinning as she watches my nightmare unfold. She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement.
I hold her gaze for a few seconds, then flash her the panty dropper.
Her smile falters.
Serves you right.
Letherengine overheat a little—and pray hervan’senginedoesn’t.
I should have known with the generic clicker that I wasn’t going to hop into that S-Class, but hope is blinding. I open the door and—
My eyes are assaulted with too many things at once, and my brain struggles to process what I see.
