“It’ll do,” I tease, struggling to play hard to get even as I practically race to shut the door behind him as if he might back out at the last minute, snatching half the bags from one hand to ensure he’ll stick around.“And thanks.”
“What was wrong with my old getup?”he asks innocently.
“Nothing, it’s just ...if we’re going to roleplay?That casual Friday garb just wasn’t doing it for me.”
“It’s ...Sunday.”
“Jesus, Grady!”I shove him playfully toward the kitchen, afternoon light streaming in through the atrium fixture above, as his cowboy boots rustle across the hardwood floors, and we hoist the bags atop the kitchen countertop together.“You know what I mean.”
“Not if we’re roleplaying,” he teases expertly.“After all, me dumb hick, you smart city boy.You’ll have to spell it out for me, every step of the way.”
He’s being extra saucy now that he knows I want this.All of this.Him, the cabin, dinner, and ...whatever might or might not happen afterward.He rustles through the bags, noting my damp hair and the sagging towel knotted around my waist.
“Go on now,” he teases, eyes wide and hungry as they rake over my bare torso.“Get dressed for supper.”
My jaw drops as I cling to my towel, the sting of rejection washing over me like the hot jets of water had been back in the shower only minutes earlier.“But I thought ...we could...”
“Maybe,” he teases, thumbing his nose at my horny getup.“But not until after supper, and you can’t prance around the house like that all night.”
I wriggle my hips playfully, the towel sliding lower down my waist as I watch his nostrils flare in reply.“I wasn’t planning on it, Cowboy.”
“Go on, git!”he teases.“There’ll be time for that later.”
“Not if I change my mind first,” I grumble, hustling to obey and hating myself for it.Then again, I think, plucking my eyebrows in the bathroom mirror the way I’d started to when I’d heard the doorbell ring.It is kind of nice being bossed around by some hottie in cowboy boots!
I hear him rustling around out there, humming to himself and whistling big as you please, clomping around in those big, thick boots that make him even taller, so that I’m going to have a neckache by the time supper’s over.Not that I’m complaining, mind you.Tall, dark, and dangerous is just my type, and if he’s as into it as I am?No telling what else might be sore by tomorrow morning, if you get my drift!
I take my time, though.He can boss me around all he wants, but I’m going to look dead ass sexy while he’s doing it, that much is for sure.Luckily, I packed as if for a picnic and not for business, figuring I wouldn’t need fancier duds until the studio ships my luggage first thing tomorrow.Soft linen slacks that feel like a cozy, warm comforter as I tug them on, sans underwear.A matching pullover, open at the top and long sleeves rolled midway up each forearm, plus buttery caramel sandals to match.
I finger-comb my hair for that special tousled look, suck in my cheeks, plump my lips, and strike a pose, wishing I’d brought my manscaping tools but figuring my last waxing was close enough to perfection.That is, as long as I keep the lights dim.Then again, a neanderthal like Grady probably has a forest as thick as the one that surrounds Cottonwood Lake down there, so he probably won’t mind as much as my last hookup.Which was back when I was still shaving myself smooth, so ...eight months ago?No, nine.Fuck, no wonder I’m so horny and making such bad decisions.
Then again, what the studio doesn’t know shouldn’t bother them, and even if they do find out?With what they’re paying me?Getting axed for fucking my tour guide on the first date could only boost my bank account.
“What in tarnation’s going on back there?”Grady grumbles from the hallway, and for the life of me, I watch the blush creep up my own damn face in the still steamy bathroom mirror.
“Coming,” I call like some rushed, 1950s housewife snapping to before church on Sunday morning.“You told me to get dressed, so ...I’m getting dressed!”
“I didn’t say a three-piece suit,” he grumbles playfully, deep voice rumbling through the very walls of the rustic cabin.“Damn, boy.”
I shiver at his name calling, so playful and foreboding.“You can’t rush perfection,” I ooze, prancing into the hallway as his eyes widen at my choice of fit.“Tada!”
“Mmmmmm,” he murmurs, circling me like a cattle rustler inspecting a prize Angus on the lonesome prairie.“Already popped into your pajamas, I see.”
“Pajamas!”I slap his chest playfully, his giggle a majestic thing.“This ensemble cost four hundred dollars, you brute!”
“Lucky me then,” he murmurs, taking my hand—taking my damn hand!—and drawing me closer toward the living room.“Because it’s worth every penny.”
“Correct answer,” I tease, really sassing it up now that the cat’s out of the bag and I can smell the want and need oozing off of Grady like the charred meat sizzling on the grill out on the deck.“And what do we have here?”
While I was primping and preening in the guest bathroom, Grady has turned the rustic living room into the seduction scene from some softcore porn flick: candles flicker from the brass-topped coffee tables in the spacious sunken living room, and a poofy, colorful gift bag sits on one wing chair, hearts and flowers and puffed up tissue pouring out of the top.Country music twangs from some unseen speaker overhead, and smoke wafts in through the open slider as he calls out from the deck, “Out here!”
I roll my eyes and follow the sound of his lilting voice, only to find Grady toiling in the encroaching twilight’s darkness.“What in tarnation?”I ask, momentarily adopting Grady’s folksy country speak.“Care if I shed a little light on the situation?”
“No!”He barks as my finger hovers on a nearby light switch along the wall.“There are cameras out here, and I’d rather not put on a show, if you know what I mean.”
“Where?”I mutter, glancing along the roofline and spying the reflection of a lens in the day’s waning light.“That cheap ass thing?”
He follows my line of vision, clutching a barbecue spatula like a medieval sword.“Is it?”
