Page 7 of The Stud Next Door (Frisky Business 3)
“But I should tell you, I’m only available for the next two months. I have an assignment in Central America with a nonprofit organization all lined up then.” I told him yesterday that I only needed something short-term, but it’s best to be up front about things, I’ve found.
He nods. “Okay then. Two months. I’ll take what I can get.”
“So, does Marley see her mom often?” I ask, keeping my voice as casual as possible. Because it’s not like I’m trying to ask about his love life. That’s not what I’m interested in at all.
We enter Marley’s bedroom, an adorable little nook painted pale pink. The crib linens, the rug in the center of the room, the curtains over the large bay window—all pink. Oh yeah, this guy totally went all out for his daughter.
“We’re not together, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says with a mischievous smile.
My cheeks flame. “Oh no, I was—”
“Nah, I’m just joking with you,” Connor says quickly, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
Not fair.
“We only dated for a couple of months before we got this little surprise,” he says, nodding to Marley, who’s currently drooling very happily onto his forearm. “Don’t get me wrong—Marley’s the best thing to ever happen to me. But it’s not like her mom and I were planning on being together forever.”
Point one for Jessa.
“We share custody. Marley stays with her mom a couple nights a week, and she’s with me the rest of the time. It’s all very amiable, but that’s also why I only need the help part time. Between my kid and my business, there are a lot of balls to keep in the air.” He chuckles a little at his own joke, and something tells me I’m missing out on the whole story.
“You own your own business?”
“Co-own. My buddies, who you had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting yesterday, and I own a sex-toy shop downtown . . . Frisky Business.”
Jaw, meet floor.
Not only is this man hotter than hell and adorable with his baby girl, now he’s well-versed in the bedroom too? As if it wasn’t hard enough to keep myself from eye-fucking him throughout this whole home tour, now I have to live with the information that he owns a sex-toy store?
Good times.
Connor scans my face, watching for any sign of disapproval. Or maybe for signs of arousal? I don’t know what he’s looking for, but I know he’s looking. And that’s enough to send another buzz straight to my core.
Act normal, Jessa.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“I might have to head downtown and check it out one day,” I say, my body feeling like it’s going to combust at any moment.
Connor licks his lips, and if I’m not mistaken, heat flashes through his eyes as he looks at me. “Tell me when, and I’ll give you a grand tour of the store.”
This is going to be a summer job unlike any other.
3
* * *
CONNOR
“Are you kidding me with this thing?”
The electric-blue dildo hangs limply between two manicured fingers. It’s held by my first customer of the day, a woman so disenchanted by what I assume is her first visit to a sex-toy shop that I actually feel sorry for her. Her face is set in a resolute frown, the toy held out with disgust in front of her, not unlike how I held my first dirty diaper.
“It’s your favorite color,” her boyfriend points out.
Isn’t this how it always goes? One wants to try something new, but the other is resistant. One’s looking for a little extra spice in the bedroom, but the other’s a fan of the same old, same old. It’s a matter of finding something that pleases both parties. Lucky for them, I specialize in toys for curious couples. By the time I’m done with these two, they’ll be scampering back to bed to play with their new unmentionables.
“Sounds like you’re looking for something a little more subtle,” I murmur, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. Damn, I’m overdue for a shave. “I think I have just the thing. Come with me.”
The couple follows me farther into the store. I haven’t been here in almost two months, but these customers would never know the difference. I move through the displays with ease, pleased to find everything in its correct place. I let the couple peruse the shelves of discreet toys for a moment before I pluck a sample product off the shelf and pass it over.
“How about this? It’s called the Joie De Vivre.”
I hear Hayes snort from the front counter, trying to cover his laughter. The man knows my strategy. After the customers have explored on their own, sometimes laughing at the toys that verge on the cusp of garish, sometimes blushing with a bit of discomfort, I impress them with the sleek, expensive stuff. Works every time.
