“Instead of your penis,” she whipped back at him. “I get it. And speaking of penises, I haven’t seen yours yet. So please take good care of it and get it home to me in one lovely piece so that I can feast my eyes on it…or just feast on it. Okay?”
“Damn, woman. You’re going to pay for taunting me like that, you know,” Trask rumbled.
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she returned sassily. “See you soon.”
CHAPTER 24
Jett couldn’t believethis was actually happening.
After Trask had shut her down just a few days earlier, she’d thought they were done. Even when she’d convinced herself—because of his hard cock—that he was as excited as she was over their brief encounter, she’d figured his pride wouldn’t allow him to relent and pick things back up.
Which is why she’d ended up sending so many verbal zingers his way, keeping things light and sexy.
She’d been hoping to make him see that life and relationships didn’t always have to be dead-serious.
And it seemed like she’d succeeded.
Score one for team Jett.
She did a little touchdown dance, then laughed at herself.
Yup.Her humor was clearly helping the uptight man rediscover the capriciousness she’d known he had inside him. But as a bonus, it also let her tap into her own feminine powers, which she’d been doubting in her long-standing, man-drought.
How did she know that Trask was letting his hair down and reconnecting with an old part of himself?
Simple.
He couldn’t possibly grow up with goofballs like Spence and Buck in his life—she didn’t know his other brothers yet, but assumed they were all pretty much cut from the same cloth—without getting some of that irreverence for himself. Trask had just tucked that part of his persona away for so long, he’d forgotten where he kept it.
Jett had made him dig deep to locate his amusement-gene, and it was now bubbling up, almost out of control, like a geyser of liquid gold.
“Happy to be of service,Trask,” she said out loud to herself as she searched the refrigerator and cabinets to see what was available there for ingredients. Ellen Sothard had told her to make herself at home, and eat whatever she wanted while she continued to talk to herself. “Your brothers won’t be able to make up any more grump-words about you if you keep this up.”
They’d pout, but secretly—she knew—they’d cheer.
Jett began pulling items from the refrigerator, the freezer, and the pantry, mumbling to herself the entire time as was her habit. Although she pretended for others that she was simply keeping up a conversation for her dogs, she knew herself well enough to admit that she often spoke her thoughts out loud.
And what was the big deal? She liked it.
Jett giggled. She wondered how nuts Trask would think she was, once he caught on to that little foible of hers?
She’d soon find out.
“Okay. First, I’ll defrost the shrimp.”
She’d found a bag in the freezer of what could only be a local catch, and once she’d ascertained that the crisper—or produce drawer as she’d found people from other parts of the country called it—held a nice, fresh bunch of baby bok-choy, she’d decided on a stir-fry.
It was her luck that the pantry also provided some wide rice noodles and a bottle of soy sauce. Adding those to her pile, she placed the bag of shrimp in cold water, and went to search out spices.
Jett would need ginger and cayenne pepper.
She found them in a cupboard that was arranged alphabetically with everything from Anise to Wasabi.
Jett hoped Trask liked his food spicy, because that was what he was getting.
Half an hour later, after pacing nervously for most of that time, she checked the shrimp, and they had thawed. She went about peeling and deveining them over the sink, which was a supremely comforting task. Jett had grown up preparing seafood, and it always calmed—as well as fed—her New-England-bred soul.
She was just finishing up when the house gave a mighty creak.
