Page 34 of Her Hometown Man
“I guess. She buys the so-called fun flavors that everybody loves, with chips and chunks and swirls, but she never buys plain chocolate ice cream. There’s nothing wrong with a classic.”
“Gwen, let’s go,” Evie called. “You’re not getting out of this. You said doing mindless tasks helps you plot, so you’re not getting out of it by claiming you have to work, either.”
“I guess I should go,” Gwen said, but at least she sounded reluctant. He hoped that was because she’d rather be with him than go dust the Sutton family knickknacks.
“I’ve got a chore list of my own,” he said. “But maybe I’ll see you later.”
She smiled. “I hope so.”
Case held on to those three simple words as he and Boomer did some yard work, and then he made a quick run to the store before moving inside to do some housecleaning. Boomer was a more enthusiastic helper for the outside tasks, and Case didn’t blame him. Both of them preferred the outdoors, but laundry had to be done and the bathroom didn’t scrub itself.
The dryer buzzed just as he finished his supper, so he went upstairs to put his laundry away, and when he looked out his window toward Gwen’s—which was almost an involuntary response to walking into his bedroom at this point—he saw the whiteboard.
Rocky Road and Buttered Pecan. Yuck.
His run to the store earlier had been a spur-of-the-moment impulse, but Case loved it when a plan came together. He grabbed the Sharpie and the white poster board he’d felt silly buying earlier in the week and wrote a response.
I have plain chocolate in my freezer. The good stuff.
Her response made him laugh.Don’t make me come over there and take it.
He could picture her face as clearly as if she was standing in his bedroom. That bossy expression that lost some of its oomph because she was also trying so hard not to smile at him. There was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to do exactly that—to make her come over there—and he grinned as he wrote the three words that were almost guaranteed to bring Gwen to his door.
I dare you.
Hedaredher?
So Case didn’t think she had the nerve to walk across the street and show up at his door? Since they’d known each other for their entire lives, he really should know her better than that by now. Or maybe he did know that, and this dare was really an invitation. Gwen knew when she knocked on his door that there was a good chance she was going to end up in his bed.
She was so tired of fighting it. She was tired of constantly reminding herself why it was a bad idea to get any more involved with Case than she already was. And more than anything, she was tired of lying awake at night with her body aching for his touch.
So she was going to walk across the street and feel his touch. And then she was going to eat his ice cream. Or maybe she’d have the dessert first, and then him. The order didn’t really matter, but she was staying until she’d had both.
The words were easy enough to say to herself when she was staring at her reflection in her bathroom mirror, but by the time she’d snuck out of the house—carefully avoiding every squeaky board by muscle memory—to dodge answering any questions and was on his front porch, she had a serious case of nerves. She could only hope she wasn’t trembling enough to make her hair bounce.
She knocked, and then smiled when she heard a singlewoofin response before Boomer’s nose pressed up against the living room window. Maybe it was her imagination, but she’d swear the dog smiled back at her.
Then the door opened, and Case was standing in front of her, looking sexy as hell and a little bit smug. He moved aside to let her in, and then closed the door. She stepped back to lean against it, folding her arms across her chest.
“I can’t believe you dared me to come steal your ice cream,” she said in a low, husky voice that made heat flare in his eyes.
“You never could resist a dare.” He reached past her and she heard the dead bolt click. “And now we’re alone. Behind a locked door. And did I mention we’re alone?”
She liked that they weren’t even going to pretend the ice cream was anything but a ploy to get her into his house. There would be no wasting time dancing around the subject and wondering who would make the first move, and when and how.
Her hands went to his waist without any conscious thought on her part, and he braced his hands on the door—one on either side of her head, so he was looking down at her. The hunger she felt was reflected in his eyes and she shivered in anticipation.
“Maybe I should make you show me the ice cream first,” she said, sliding her hands up his back, because she didn’t intend to actually let him walk to the freezer.
“Proof of chocolate?” His eyebrow arched. “You don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust anybody when it comes to chocolate ice cream.”
She was just about to bring an end to the banter by rising up on her toes to kiss him when she felt a thump against her hip and looked down to see Boomer gazing up at her, waiting to be greeted. Chuckling, she reached a hand down, rubbing his ears and giving his head a scratch.
“Hi, Boomer,” she said.
She was afraid the moment was lost and now they’d break apart. The ice cream would come out, and as much as she wanted that, she wanted Case more. He never moved, though, and when Boomer had his fill of hello pets and wandered away, Case’s arms were still braced on either side of her.
