Her eyes warm like honey as she lights up, taking theglass from me and bringing it to her lips before letting out a low, appreciative moan. The entire scene in front of me—her eyes, the little sounds she makes, her floral scent—has my dick stirring in remembrance of what I saw only a half hour earlier.
“So since you’re bad with the phone and I obviously will still need to shower in your room”—those peach lips of hers lift in a mischievous smirk—“should we come up with another system? You know, so you don’t get a free peep show daily. Perhaps a sock on the door means I’m naked?”
I desperately suck in air to try to keep myself from reaching for her, grabbing those generous hips, and squeezing her against me.
“A sock means you’re hooking up. There will be no hooking up in my room, Tally.” I say it as much for her as I do for me. I will not fuck this girl. Peter Darling’s little girl.
My eyes fall shut because she doesn’t look like a little girl and Peter Darling is nowhere in sight. How old is she? She’s got to be at least twenty-one. Ugh, why am I thinking about this? I’m thirty-four, and she’s my employee. My boss’s daughter. Sort of. Gail isn’t really my boss, and Peter is—fuck. Whatever. She’s off-limits.
When I open my eyes again, I’m reminded that Tally is all woman. My gaze is instantly drawn to her pert nipples poking against the black fabric of her shirt. Please tell me the woman is wearing a bra. Her family is coming over. She must be.
I blink. She definitely isn’t.
Tally smiles. She definitely caught me staring at her tits.
“Obviously, there will be no hooking up in your room.” She turns away from me and disappears toward the fridge.Like a damn puppy, my eyes trail her every move. Opening the fridge, pulling out a head of lettuce. Walking toward the counter. Pulling out a knife. Unwrapping the head of lettuce. Washing the head of lettuce. “Unless I’m with Phil.”
“Who the fuck is Phil?” I growl, my focus on her actions all but lost as I glower at her.
Her shoulders shake as she slices into the head of lettuce, then she peeks over at me, a sly grin on her lips. “My shower dildo.”
“You have a shower dildo?”
Her eyes widen and she shakes her head, a huge smile on her face before turning back to the lettuce. “No. But you should see your face. Are you picturing me in your shower fucking my shower dildo?”
Yes.
“No,” I say aloud. “Why are you like this? And stop saying ‘shower dildo.’”
Her melodic laughter fills the kitchen as the front door swings open and her mother calls out a hello. I rush out of the kitchen, knowing I need five minutes alone or else I’m going to be facing Tally’s mom with a raging boner.
CHAPTER 19
Tally
My eyes cut to the spot at the table where my father used to sit—it’s empty tonight because I set the table and couldn’t bear to put anyone there. If my family or Walker has noticed, they’ve said nothing. It’s a six-person table so I just put us in the four chairs in the middle. With the bowl of pasta in my hand, I note that my mother and sister have left the spot next to Walker empty. Shoot.
Not that I can’t be an adult and sit next to him during dinner. It’s just … I know my entire body will buzz from his proximity. And I’ll be itching to turn and look at him all night—and wondering if he’s trying to avoid doing the same.
He’s attracted to me. He’s terrible at masking it—I caught him staring at my ass or my chest five times in the last twenty minutes alone—which is ironic since I can’t read any of his expressions outside of that.
“This looks delicious,” my mother says when I drop the dish in the center of the table. “Thank you, Tally.”
“Yeah, I haven’t had your chicken Parm in so long.” Penny hums as her eyes lift to me and then twitch toward Walker. “Special occasion?”
“My roommate requested it,” I say. “And I’m nothing if not accommodating. Right, Walker?”
He only grunts in response.
The entire tone of the dinner—which I thought would be focused on my apology, the farm, and how to fix the great deflowering—is different from what I expected. Instead, it feels lighter. Something I think everyone at this table needs.
“Glad the two of you are settling in so well together,” my mother comments as she plates her own food before passing the platter to my sister.
“Yeah. How has it been, sharing a house?” Penny chimes in. “Word to the wise Walker, my sister is a shower hog. If you want any hot water, make sure you shower before her.”
“Oh, we haven’t had any shower incidents yet.” I turn my entire body and bat my lashes innocently at Walker, who stays totally focused on his food.
“Yup. No shower issues.” The words are staccato. Quick. Like he needs to never say the wordshoweragain.
