Page 53 of The Best Men
“No problem. They’re going to do a good job. Today I’ll check on the caterer. I want to look every vendor in the eye before Saturday, so they know I’m paying attention.”
“Thank you. Ireallyappreciate this. Today I’ll be busy staring at my phone, hoping the dressmaker finishes her alterations in time for me to make our flight tomorrow.”
“I’m sure she will,” I say soothingly. I find a fresh pair of underwear and step into them. And I follow those with a pair of shorts. “I’d better run. I’ve got things to do.”
Like Asher St. James.If I’m lucky.
“Go, go!” she says. “Taste those appetizers! And do me a favor? Hide all the casserole dishes in the kitchen of that house.”
“You got it. I won’t let you down.”
She signs off after a little more chatter about the dress.
I tiptoe into the living room, but the pool boy is gone, and Asher is brushing his teeth. So I head into the kitchen to start the coffee, but Asher has already done it.
And that’s where the panic finds me—as I stand in front of the coffee maker, mug in hand, waiting for the pot to fill. I breathe in the hopeful scent of coffee, wondering what the hell Asher will say when he comes into the kitchen.
Hey, Banks. That was a fun time. Thanks for the BJ. Nice knowing you, but I’m going back to hooking up with the rich and famous now.
Okay, he’s too suave to actually say that. But if he doesn’t want a repeat, he’ll probably be distant. Cool, even. He might suggest dividing and conquering today’s activities, just to make his point clear.
It could be so awkward.
This right here isexactlywhy I never let on that I’m attracted to him in particular.
And I’m still trapped in this tiny house with him for at least three more days. Just him, me, and the memory of my mouth on his cock, and the sounds he makes when he comes.
I’m still staring at the coffee maker when he pads into the kitchen. I don’t turn around, though. I need to put on my game face first.
But he doesn’t give me a chance. He comes up behind me, presses his bare chest to my bare back, and kisses the nape of my neck softly.
Fuuuuuuck that’s nice.
“Good morning,” he says huskily.
“Isn’t it?” I reply.
“I’d hate to interrupt the mind meld you’re having with the coffee pot, Banks. But I thought we should plan our day. The caterer is this morning, no?”
Setting the mug down, I turn around. And there he is, at point-blank range, all floofy hair and tanned smirk and sleepy hazel eyes. My heart spasms, like I won some kind of hookup lottery last night. “Youdowant coffee, St. James? I didn’t suck off some kind of monster, right?”
He barks out a laugh. “Of course I want coffee. I made it, didn’t I? And guess what—your poker face is good, but everyone has a tell.”
I successfully fight off a smile. “No way. I have no tells.”
“Yeah, you do,” he says in a low, guttural voice. “It’s right here.” He lifts a hand to my throat, which is strangely sexy. Then he strokes a thumb across my Adam’s apple. “This jumps when you’re turned on.”
He drops his hand and leans down to kiss my throat instead.
Check, please. I just want to shove him back into the bedroom and have my filthy way with him.
Instead, the coffee pot dings, and Asher straightens up. “Outta the way, Banks. We have to drink coffee and sample crab cakes.” He moves me to the side and picks up my mug to fill it. “There’s no time for whatever is running through your mind right now. We have a wedding to throw. It has to be perfect for Hannah! Not one detail out of place.”
“Are you quoting me back to me?” I ask grumpily.
“Just telling you how it is.” He shoves the mug into my hand and reaches for a second one. “Get out your spreadsheet. Let’s see what’s left on it.”
About ninety-nine more wickedly dirty things.
