Chapter Eight
Clean Up in Aisle Five
I’m on the floor again, staring out my front window, watching the cleaning crew go in and out of his place. When I offered, again, to help clean up the lube mess, he assured me he “had people” for that. The truth is, I feel terrible about this particular Dash incident.
You see, there’s always a “Dash Incident” at Munsel family gatherings. And at school. And at the store. The mall. The park.
You get the idea.
Sadly, this one just happened to include the neighbor I barely know but would like to know a lot better. You know, biblically.
Did Dash’s misdeeds ruin my chance with the hot man next door? Only time will tell. In the meantime, I’ve got two books to finish editing. I need to get back to work. No more lollygagging about watchingotherpeople work.
Crawling back a few feet, I use my coffee table to push myself up to my knees, then to standing. Once on my feet, I look down and see I’m literally covered in cat hair.Thank you very much, Henry Miller.
No matter. Nobody is going to see me today, since I’ve got to concentrate on work. I mean it. “Focus, Colette.”
On my way back to my little office area, I turn right instead of left, deciding I need a little pick-me-up to get myself in the right frame of mind. Leftover cake from yesterday should do the trick. Mom made the cake, which means it’sgood. A cup of coffee would sure be nice to go along with the treat. Breakfast of champions.
Slicing off a big hunk of her German chocolate cake, I reach for a fork and dive in, cutting off a bite so huge, it barely fits in my mouth.
That’s what she said.
I snort at my little joke, causing some cake to escape my mouth and end up on the counter in front of me and a little on the floor.No worries, I’ll get that later.
Struggling to chew, I take two steps closer to my desk.
“You said you wanted to help?” The voice—hisvoice—comes from the other side of my screen door.
Startled, I choke again. This time, it’s not pretty, because the big bite of cake I just took went down the wrong tube. Whichever tube or tunnel it was supposed to go down, it didn’t. Quickly dropping the plate and fork to the first flat surface I can find, I bend in half, trying to dislodge the cake.
“I’ve got you.”
And just like that, I feel my stomach being pumped inward and up into my ribcage by two of the biggest, most muscled arms I’ve ever seen. He’s pumping up so hard, I’m being lifted off the ground. After two of those thrusts, the cake is suddenly dislodged from my throat and ends up on the floor of my dining area.
Panting, I feel beads of sweat dripping down my face. That’s when I look down at the floor. Some of it got on my leggings and feet. I guess it’s better down there than killing me. Literally.
“You okay, baby girl?”
Oh. My. God. He called me baby girl? I read that shit all the time in my romance books, and ordinarily, I cringe when the heroes in the stories I edit use stupid pet names like that, but for some reason, hearing it from his lips, especially when they’re right stinking next to my ear … well, fuck a duck. Sign me up for pet names.
“Yeah.” My throat is sort of raw, and my stomach and ribs hurt, too. But I’m not about to complain. “Thank you.”
“If I hadn’t startled you, you wouldn’t have choked. I’m sorry about that.”
His words give me chills, and since he’s still wrapped around me and his lips are right next to my ear, well, the only thing I can say is, “It’s okay.” I glance back at him.
“You scared the shit out of me, honey.”
Honey?See? I like that, too. And didn’t he call me sweetheart yesterday?
“Sorry.” I feel something around my mouth. I swipe at it with my fingers. Chocolate. “I’d like to tell you I’ll never eat cake again, but that’d be a bald-faced lie. Cake is my jam.” Hell, jam is my jam. Especially when it’s filling up a good doughnut.
I feel his arms slide down and away, and I’m sad about it. He does pat my hip gently, though, which is nice, especially when he adds, “Glad you’re okay. I wouldn’t give up cake either.”
“Oh.” Where are my manners? “Would you like some?”
“I’ll pass. I came over to see if you had any laundry detergent. I’m out, and I wanted to throw the comforter in the washer.”
