Page 25 of The Stud Next Door (Frisky Business 3)
“I’m kidding.” She punches Connor in the arm, and my face relaxes into a smile.
I chuckle without really even meaning to, and he and I share a passing glance that communicates everything we were both thinking in an instant—thank fucking God.
“No, he’s a good boss, and a good dad.” I glance at him again and a small smile curls my lips. “Even if he can be a little overly stressed sometimes. Did he tell you about last week when he thought Marley had scarlet fever?”
“Oh, Con, no,” Penelope says, giving her brother a sympathetic look.
“It’s still a thing, you know,” Connor says, protesting weakly.
Penelope and I give him reassuring looks.
“Marley’s lucky to have you,” I say, and without thinking about it, I place my hand on his arm. After a second, I pull away, but my hand feels electric just from touching him.
Connor holds my gaze a second longer than necessary, and when I look away, I catch Penelope studying us. She gives me a curious smile, and I pull my lips into the blandest, most innocent smile I can manage. The last thing I need right now is Connor’s sister getting any ideas about what’s happening between us.
What is happening between us?
Nothing, I quickly decide. It was one hot kiss. And some lingering chemistry, but how wouldn’t there be? Connor’s young, fit, and attractive. That’s all. It’s nothing I can’t handle.
Wolfie loops an arm around Penelope’s waist. “Give us the grand tour, Scar.”
Scarlett grins and leads the way, pointing out features of her new place—like the cozy dining nook, and the built-in shelves in the hallway—until we end up in the guest bedroom. “Look, plenty of room for you idiots to stay over and crash if someone has too much to drink.”
“I call dibs on the guest room,” Caleb says, flopping his big body onto the queen mattress.
Wolfie raises one eyebrow. “Well, this room is claimed.”
“What about me?” Connor grumbles. “Do you have a pullout for me?”
“We all know you don’t pull out,” Caleb says with a playful look, and everyone dissolves into laughter.
“Ha-ha, fuckers,” Connor mutters, frowning, and I suppress a laugh.
As the tour winds down, we end up back in Scarlett’s living room. Hayes and Maren squeeze onto the same armchair, Penelope and Wolfie sit closely on the couch with Scarlett nearby, and Caleb takes a seat near Scarlett’s feet, leaving Connor and me to fight it out for the last armchair.
“Oh, do you want to sit here?” I gesture to the chair. I can feel Penelope and Maren watching us, even as the rest of the group laughs and continues talking loudly over us.
Connor nods for me to sit. “No, go for it.”
“No, really, you should take it,” I say, insisting.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Scarlett throws her hands in the air. “One of you grab one of the stools from the kitchen and sit down already.”
A blush burns my cheeks.
Connor runs a hand over the back of his neck and walks to the kitchen in a few short strides. He returns with one of Scarlett’s tall silver bar stools with sleek black seats. He sets it down next to the big chair and takes a seat, and I curl up in the plush armchair.
Wolfie watches our entire interaction with interest.
Is it just me, or is Wolfie weirdly perceptive sometimes?
The doorbell rings and the pizza arrives. Scarlett sets the boxes on the table between us, and we descend on the food like hungry vultures. Clearly, everyone worked hard today, whether that work included selling vibrators and dildos to very horny people, or moving Scarlett’s life two neighborhoods over.
The conversation shifts from teasing Connor to Maren’s work to whether or not it’s acceptable to dip pizza in ranch dressing. Another two hours pass, eating and drinking and talking with my new friends, and before I even know it, it’s almost midnight.
Just a few weeks ago, I moved to a temporary new place, expecting to detach from my life in Chicago and start a new one thousands of miles away. But lately, it’s getting harder and harder to remember why I decided to go to Central America in the first place.
I like my life here, even if it’s not a normal nine-to-five job. I have friends and a place to live, and . . . well, there’s Connor. I feel like I fit here, more than I realized. Maybe more than I have any place before.
And I don’t know if I’m ready to give that all up just yet.
9
* * *
CONNOR
Turns out, all it takes for me to act on a very, very bad idea is a little peer pressure.
Well, more like nonstop pressure from my peers—in person during work, over text after work, and all throughout the weekend. The onslaught can be summarized in one simple question: When are you gonna ask Jessa out?
