Page 45 of Mr. Flirt

“Maybe I don’t like our experiment.” My voice lowered. “Or that you seem to think you can just use me like that.”

Lucy’s eyes widened. “Excuse me? Useyou?”

I nodded and tore my eyes from hers and opened the oven to pull out the two trays of hot wings. The heat and spice coated my eyes in misery as I placed them on the counter and looked up at Lucy.

“Now you’re crying about it?” Her hand flew to her hip.

I used the potholder to wipe my eyes as I felt a hand on my back, rubbing me gently as the stray cayenne pepper from the potholder somehow embedded into my eye.

“Shit. This sucks.” I dashed to the sink and tried splashing water into my eyes.

“You’re not the first grown man I’ve made cry.”

“I’m not crying over you. I’m bawling my eyes out because I got hot sauce in them.”

“My gosh.” Lucy grabbed some paper towels and handed them to me with my face under the sink faucet. “I feel so bad.”

“You should,” I mumbled, trying to take the sting out of my eyeballs.

But I secretly loved that Lucy thought I’d cry over something she’d said.

“For the record, it would take a lot more than you just telling my sister and best friend that I’m training you to flirt, which by the way, I think you already do a great job at. Maybe if you’d mentioned the sex part, that might have stopped me in my tracks, but I still wouldn’t cry over it. I’m not a pansy.”

“Yeah?” she asked, taking the wet paper towels away. “Should we pour milk in your eyes? I’ve always heard that helps with the heat.”

I chuckled as the water ran down my cheeks, and I stood up. “I’m glad you went to law school instead of medical school.”

Mark cleared his throat across the kitchen. “I swear I never heard a word, and I’m just going to back out of the room now.” I pried my eyelids open to see Lucy spin around and laugh.

“Whatever you think you heard, I’m sure it is far crazier in real life.” She swatted my back and grinned. “Right, Shep?”

“I haven’t the foggiest.” I glanced at Mike and pointed at the food before he made his way out of the room. “Just take a tray of wings and put them on the dining room table.”

When Mike left the kitchen with food in hand, I stared at Lucy. “You don’t care if he thinks I’m teaching you all about doing the dirty-dirty?”

“I’m a grown woman.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m allowed to have sexual relations with a master of coitus. And who the hell calls sex the dirty-dirty?”

I flinched. “Dear gawd, woman. Is that how you see me? You make it sound so clinical.”

“Really? Is coitus too technical of a term? I thought it sounded kind of hot.”

I studied Lucy, trying to figure out whether she was serious.

I had no idea.

“What? Am I wrong?” she whispered, bowing her head closer toward me. “Just hearing you talk about what you’d do to me at my dinner table made my mind go to places it’s never been before.”

Surprise thrummed through me. I had no idea Lucy was into my little bedtime story.

Maybe the Master of Coitus really did turn her on.

“Really?” I leaned in, waiting for Mike to hop back into the kitchen and scream,Gotcha!

“If I didn’t have two stellar paralegals, I would have filed the wrong pleading with my best friend’s case yesterday. I’ve been absolutely a mess since you came to my house and made me halibut.” She shuddered. “I can only imagine what the chicken wings will do to me.”

I laughed and shook my head. “And I made homemade potato chips and ranch dip, in case you’re keeping score.”

“Anything I can help with?” Winter asked, walking into the kitchen toward the fridge. “I feel like something bubbly. Do you have any sparkling water?”

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