Fifteen minutes later, they’d secured her precious cargo in the backseat of his truck. The wind out of the north still held a chill, but the sky was clear, the sun bright. He started the engine and donned a pair of sunglasses that hid his wandering bedroom eyes.
She tugged the V of her sweater higher and wished her jean jacket wasn’t in the back of the cab on the other side.
As they drove out of the parking lot, he sank lower into the seat, legs sprawled, one hand draped over the steering wheel, one elbow propped on the console. He hooked a thumb at the boxes stacked in the floorboard and backseat. “Do you think you brought enough?”
She smiled at the teasing tone. “I assume you have an army of servants.”
Kitchen staff were often overlooked, and Avery’s cheeks, flushed a light shade of pink under what was left of last summer’s tan—probably from some beach on the Riviera—that told her he was no different. “Right.”
“Giselle taught me to always include extra for staff. And it’s always better to have too much. Maybe Kate and…” She tsked, trying to remember Avery’s friend’s name. She needed to be on her game, but Avery’s nearness, not to mention Brooke’s talk of sex and expiration dates, gave her a case of the flusters.
“Bryce.”
“Um, yes, thanks. Maybe they’ll want to take some home. And I made extra petit fours for Melody.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask. What the hell is that?”
“You’ve never heard of a petit four?”
He peered at her over the top of his sunglasses, his gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts above her sweater. “I’m more of a la petite mort kind of guy.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t control the tightening of her nipples or the rampant thoughts of his tongue rasping over them. She knew what la petite mort meant—the little death—even if she’d never made it there. Chase and her little bullet had gotten her a few feel-good moments, but nothing compared to Brooke’s ooh’s and aah’s about dying in Aaron’s arms.
“Same thing,” she muttered. “It’s just a little cake.”
Asshole smiled like he knew exactly what he was doing to her. There was no way she’d make it through a whole day if they didn’t get back to the terms of their arrangement.
Which reminded her. “By the way, Brooke knows about our deal, so there’s no need to pretend around her.”
“I know. She told me when you were on the phone. She also told me she’d cut off my balls if I did anything to hurt you. I like her.”
“She’s the best.”
Even when she’s being a pushy ho, putting ideas into my head. Ideas that shouldn’t be there.
Like they weren’t there before.
He took the ramp onto I45 North. “She obviously cares about you.”
“She does. We’ve been through a lot together.” Jo pivoted in the seat, one knee bumping the console, and circled back to what she really wanted to know. “If you already knew she knew, why all the touchy feely back there? Rules, remember?”
“I remember,” he growled, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel.Tap, tap, tap, tap.After fourth set of raps, he said, “I was…practicing.”
“For what?”
“Something my mom said.” He signaled a lane change. “I think we need to renegotiate some of your rules.”
Caution slithered up the back of her neck. “Why? What did she say?”
“That she’d raised me—all my brothers—to be affectionate.” His gaze darted toward her, then back to the road. “I watched Spencer and Marcus this week when they were with Melody and Charlotte. They touch a lot.”
Jo didn’t like where this was going. “Nice try, but no deal. My conditions aren’t negotiable.”
“I’m not asking you to make out with me on the porch swing.” His brows waggled. “Though say the word, and I’m there.”
“What are you asking for?”
“Holding hands, my arm around you when we stand together, a peck on the cheek, that’s it. Just enough to throw my mom off the scent.”
