Flirting with Forever: A Hot Romantic Comedy(11)



I loosened my grip on the broom handle and lowered it. “Don’t judge, I grabbed what was handy. And I really did hear a noise. Are there rats around here?”

“Maybe but I’ve never seen one. Is your porch light out?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“Maybe you should turn it on.”

I stared at my open door, still irrationally afraid I’d be mauled if I went near the source of the last noise I’d heard.

Dex grunted, and although he was probably annoyed, it gave me a tingly reminder of my dream. He went to the back door, reached inside, and flipped the switch.

The porch light came on, illuminating Dex in all his tattooed majesty.

My lips parted and I stared. He was broad and thick—in every way imaginable. Lean enough to see the lines of muscle but not so ripped that he looked like he lived in a gym. His tattoos covered one whole arm, from shoulder to wrist, and the other had ink up to the elbow.

And he filled out those boxer briefs very, very well.

I stood there, gaping at him, But in the seconds it took my mind to clear, I realized it probably didn’t matter, because he was staring at me.

Of course, it was cold and I was wearing a sheer white camisole and shorts. He could probably see just about everything.

I could suddenly feel everything. The chill breeze tickling my skin. My hard nipples brushing against the silky fabric of my top. And the remnants of that dream, the tension between my legs suddenly begging to be sated.

That rough, tattooed man could probably destroy my body in a hundred different ways.

And by the way he was looking at me, he was thinking about it.

The scratching sound came back. I jumped away as the plastic lid to my trash can moved on its own. Dex rushed to me, grabbed the broom out of my hands, and held it like a baseball bat.

It was about then that I realized my trash can was tipped over. There hadn’t been much in it, but a few pieces of trash were scattered nearby.

Dex took a step closer, still holding the broom at the ready. “What the…”

The lid popped up and turned over, revealing black and gray fur and a set of beady eyes. I gasped but Dex didn’t even flinch.

“It’s just a raccoon.” He lowered the broom. “Freaking trash panda.”

The creature eyed us and I was certain it was about to jump up and attack our faces. I took a step behind Dex, so he’d be between me and the raccoon.

“Don’t those have rabies?”

“We’re not going to find out.” He pushed the broom, brush side down, toward it. “Go on, get out of here.”

It sat up on its hind legs and hissed once before scampering off into the darkness.

“There goes your home invader.” He turned around and held out the broom.

“Do you think he was alone?”

“Looked like it.”

“How did he make so much noise all by himself?”

He shrugged. “Tipped over your trash can.”

Reluctantly, I took the broom.

“You’re scared of the raccoon, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Of course I’m scared of the raccoon.” My eyes darted to my still-open door. “What if his buddies went into my house?”

“I don’t think he had any buddies.”

“How do you know? Are you a raccoon expert?’

He sighed. “Do you want me to go in and look for you?”

I really did. It was the middle of the night and way too much to ask of the neighbor I barely knew. But I didn’t want to go back to bed without checking everywhere, and even better if I didn’t have to do it alone.

“Please?”

He eyed me for a second, as if deciding what to do about me. Then he swiped the broom out of my hands and went inside.

I followed him in and shut the door while he started turning on lights. The kitchen was mostly organized, although a few stray boxes were pushed into a corner. He glanced around, and I did the same, but there weren’t any raccoons.

Or rats. Although it had been a raccoon in my trash, I wasn’t convinced that rats hadn’t crept into the house while we’d been distracted.

Dex went into the living room and turned on another light. It was more chaotic in there, with several stacks of unpacked boxes and shelves that still needed to be reassembled. To his credit, he was thorough, checking on, around, and behind everything. He even bent down and looked under the couch.

He seemed to be convinced there weren’t any furry intruders and left the broom propped up against the wall. But he still checked the rest of the house, with me close behind. We looked in the extra bedroom and the guest bath. My office was clear and finally, we got to my bedroom.

Something about having that man step into my bedroom made my lady parts pulse with tension. I rolled my eyes. What was I going on about? Sure, he had a certain rugged appeal, but that didn’t mean I’d let him anywhere near my lady parts.

Although maybe I would.

He bent over to check under my bed. I watched from the doorway, trying to guess by his movements whether he’d found more raccoons. But he didn’t react. Just straightened and shrugged his broad shoulders.

“I think you’re fine.”

That was a relief.

His eyes lingered on me and I was once again aware that we were both barely dressed. And now we were in my bedroom.

Claire Kingsley's Books