Page 47 of Castling the Rook (Checkmate 3)

“Mind your own business, Bish. I stay out of yours, you stay out of mine.”

“But she’s so pretty. Kane’s got his eye on a blonde, you’ve got yours, and I’m sitting out here the like fifth wheel that no one wants to have an orgy with. We don’t have to look at each other to do this. I’m just gonna look at the girls.”

I bring the cell away from my ear and crush my thumb against the red dot to hang up. He’s a dirty fuck, but the worst part is; I’m pretty sure he’s not playing. Most men in this world like to find their girl, romance her, seduce her, and keep her all to himself. Then there’s Jay Bishop, and he doesn’t give a fuck who’s in on his nighttime fun, so long as there’s at least one girl and he gets a ride.

Shaking my head, I hit Andi’s number and wonder if a call is too much commitment for her. She’s a runner, and a phone call instead of a text is almost too much for some, but she doesn’t leave me hanging for long. With a click of the line and muffled movements, she answers with a brilliant, “Hey, Cruz! Whatcha doin’?”

Smiling, I tap my steering wheel and adjust from talking business, to talking to a ray of sunlight instead. “Hey, Dee. I’m just finishing up some stuff. What are you doing?”

“I’m baking.”

“Yeah?” I push my keys into the ignition and switch on the rumbling engine. Setting my cell to speaker and turning the radio to mute, I reverse out of my parking space and head toward home. “What are you baking? I was thinking of going home and cooking, too.”

“Really? That’s a happy coincidence. What were you planning to cook? I’m starving, so if you have extras…”

Laughing, I turn the corner and drive past the police station. “I have chicken in the fridge, and a really good seasoning that I add when I fry it. I can have it ready in about thirty minutes if you wanna–”

“Wait! Fried?” Her shout makes me smile. “There is no way in hell Riley Cruzfrieshis chicken! You’re lying, because gym rats can’t be gym ratsandhave fried chicken in the same lifetime.”

“Sure we can.” Streetlights illuminate the cab of my truck as I move through the streets.

“Nope. You cooked the chicken under a magnifying glass, didn’t you? You probably said your thanks to the sun Gods for allowing you to cook without adding trans fats to your abs. Oh my God, quick! Body check; how many visible abs do you have left?”

“You’re a smartass. I didn’t cook it outside, and it’s Friday, which means cheat day.”

“It’s almost theendof Friday. You missed twenty-one of your twenty-four cheat hours!”

“Andi?” I listen as she shuts drawers and slams a fridge. “Shut up. And eight. I still feel all eight abs.”

Her breathy laugh moves through my cell and into my ear. “Fine, whatever. I’d love some fried chicken. Ilovefried chicken, so thanks for offering.”

“I didn’t offer.” I pull on to my street and slow. “But if you want some, there’s plenty there. I can make a salad and stuff to go with it, and there’s leftover wine in the fridge. Come on over when you’re done baking and we’ll eat.”

“Well…” Her single word lifts a few octaves from nerves. “Actually…”

I slow at the sight of a car in my driveway. Frowning, I shoot a glance up and down my street. “Dee? Have you been waiting outside this whole time? Jesus, woman. That’s not safe.” I pull up behind her small car and snatch up my cell. Dashing out of the truck and locking the doors, I move to her door and skid to a stop when I find it empty.

“Well…” Nervously, she lets her word hang until I finally focus on reality and glance up. The lights are on inside my house, and flickering TV illuminates my blinds “Surprise?”

“Andrea?” I jog up my front steps and shove the front door open until it bangs against the inside wall. My heart races for odd reasons; I have an intruder, but she’s Dee. Someone broke into my fucking house, but it’s just Dee. “You’re in my house? What the fuck?” I step into my living room and drop my arm at the sight of her in front of my open oven. Caught mid-crime, she slides the baking tray in and grits her teeth. “What the actual fuck, Dee? You broke into my house! I’m a cop, and B&E is a fucking crime!”

Closing the oven door with a snap, she turns to me in a naked-woman-apron and presents dainty wrists. “You can arrest me if you want, Officer. It’s sexy.”

“Andi!”

Laughing – and not at all concerned I might arrest her – she wipes her hands on a towel and twirls around my kitchen like she belongs here. Passing the heavy island counter and my watchful cat with a wicked grin, she transforms from classically trained twirling to a flat out sprint until she throws herself from six feet away and I catch her mid-air.

Hands full of her denim clad ass, mouth full of chocolate mixture, I forget to breathe when her lips slam over mine and her arms wrap around my neck. Spinning, I slam her against the wall and work on her neck like her crimes are forgiven.

They are.

I don’t give a fuck that she’s in my home. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Yeah?” She arches her neck to allow me room to nibble. “You’re not mad I broke in? Your bathroom window was open, so…”

“No. I thought you were gone. I figured you’d be with your cousin all night, then you leave tomorrow.” I pull her delicate skin between my teeth and suck until she moans. “I thought you were skipping out without saying goodbye, so I was in a pissy fuckin’ mood all day because of it.”

“I was,” she pants. “I was totally going to ditch and send you a picture of my tits from the airport bathrooms. Then I found this apron at Oz’s place and decided I wanted to bake for you instead. Now you get to see my real tits, and I get to say goodbye in person.”

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