My eyes roved over the basket of goodies, quickly zeroing in on a familiar package of cookies. “Did you— Are those Tim Tams?”
“Uh, yeah.”
I snatched the basket out of his hands and held it up for closer inspection.
“Those are my absolute favorites.”
“I know.” He smiled and tucked his meaty palms into his pockets.The things he could do to me with those thick fingers.I shook off the thought. Fantasizing about my neighbor filling me up with his fingers wasn’t exactly appropriate for a Monday morning. “You mentioned them a couple times before.”
“And you remembered?”
“I remember a lot of things.”
Moisture clouded my eyes. It wasn’t every day that somebody gave me a package of my favorite Australian delicacy. They weren’t easy to come by in the States. Most grocery stores didn’tcarry them—believe me, I’d checked. “Where did you even find them?”
“A small international market in Silver Lake.”
“You drove across town for me?”
He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
That was where he was wrong. I might have been a newly minted Los Angeleno, but even I knew that driving to the east side, from the west side, for a package of goddamn cookies was as good as a marriage proposal. West siders hardly ever left West L.A., aside from the occasional weekend brunch trip or tickets to a movie premiere.
Maybe it was time I reconsider that whole grand gesture thing.
I swallowed when he crossed his arms in front of his chest, my tongue suddenly heavy. Venice Beach could keep their bodybuilders; I would take a photographer’s arms wrapped around me any day of the week. Hugging me tight, lifting me up and down his coc—
“I’m sorry to hear you’ve been going through it,” he said, interrupting my second fantasy in the span of five minutes. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you, Austin.”
His pupils darkened at the sound of his own name.
“My pleasure, Janelle.”
The funny thing was, I believed him. Maybe taking the afternoon off to stuff my face with Tim Tams and my pussy with my favorite dildo wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Austin
“Which one of these Santas do you think is the hottest?”
I looked up from the lens in my hand to find Sloane, my photography assistant, laser-focused on an Asian Santa in neon-red swim trunks. “I thought you were off the dating market.”
I hadn’t met Sloane’s newest beau yet, but from what she had told me, they had made things social media official right before Thanksgiving.
“That doesn’t mean I can’t admire the merchandise.”
I nodded my head toward the subject of her attention. “Twenty bucks says he’s stuffing his shorts.”
“No way. I know a monster cock when I see one.”
“So do I,” I said around a wink.
“You’re on.”
Sloane had never been able to resist a competition of any kind, really. I had once seen my five-foot-nothing assistant turned best friend drink a three-hundred-pound biker under the table, all because she’d wanted a chance to drive his motorcycle. To every bar patron’s shock and awe, Sloane had challenged him and won the bet. They had both been too blitzed to take the ride, though, so instead she’d taken him for a different kind of ride as a consolation prize.
People constantly underestimated her, especially men, but after three years of working together side by side, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she could do anything she wanted to. Plus, there was a certain kind of sick satisfaction that came with watching her hand some dude twice her size his ass.
