12. There’s No Place I’d Rather Be
12
Miles
Am I taking extra care to groom myself to drop off a stuffed bear for the scheduled visitation with its co-owner? Yes. Do I feel even the slightest bit ridiculous?
Hell, no.
Roxy’s insistence that we share custody of Herman gives me a reason to see her, and there’s no way I’m showing up all dirty and drenched in sweat like I was after practice today.
It’s Friday, which means the championship game is in two days. There was a buzz of electricity on that practice field today, and the Bandits are as ready as they’ll ever be. I hauled ass out of there without even showering. I just threw on my sweats and hoodie and came home so I could make sure I look, and smell, as enticing as possible.
No harm in reminding Roxy of what she’s missing out on, right?
I grab Herman and head out, pausing to lock the door behind me. When I turn around, a big smile stretches across my face as I see the woman waiting at the base of the steps for me.
“Why, Miss Nelly, I presume?” I ask, jogging down the steps as I greet her.
“I see my reputation precedes me,” she says with a toothy grin. “I stopped by last week to welcome you to the neighborhood, but you weren’t home. I have a lasagna in my freezer for you.”
“Much appreciated, ma’am. Riggs told me all about your lasagna. Said it was delicious.”
She nods. “It’s my specialty. Even my puss loves it.”
I throw my head back and laugh, then shake my head at her. “Riggs also told me about your puss.”
“Did he, now?” she says, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “All good things, I hope. My puss loves getting acquainted with new people.”
God, she really is a firecracker. She has to be eighty if she’s a day, and goes around calling her cat “my puss” strictly for shock value. Riggs told me all about it after he moved in here, and I’m just sad it’s taken me this long to meet the woman. She seems like a lot of fun.
“Well, I can’t wait to meet your puss,” I say with a wink, “but I have someplace I need to be right now. Maybe you can bring me the lasagna and introduce me to her one day next week?”
“Of course. Of course,” she says. Then she eyes Herman. “A gift for your lady-love?”
“Nope,” I say. “My friend Roxy and I decided to share custody after I won him at River Springs.”
“Roxy, eh?” she says shaking her head. “She’s a live one, that woman.”
“Don’t I know it,” I say, then give her a wave as I walk backward toward my Jeep in the driveway. “So, next week? We can eat the lasagna, and you can fill me in on all the juicy neighborhood gossip.”
“I’ll check my calendar,” she calls back, then waves me off before spinning around and making her way across my front yard and into hers.
My smile doesn’t fade during my drive across town to Roxy’s place. Grabbing Herman from the passenger seat, I hop down and swing the door closed before making my way to her door. I knock out a little rhythm on the painted metal, then hold up Herman’s face to the peephole. A few seconds later, I hear soft laughter and the door swings open.
“Herman!” Roxy exclaims, snatching the bear from me and hugging him to her chest. “I missed you.”
She turns and heads into her small living room without shutting the door, and I take that as an invitation to enter. Swinging the door closed behind me, I follow Roxy, grinning as she props up the bear in the corner of the couch with a pillow.
Once she has him positioned the way she wants him, she straightens and turns to me. “So, how was practice? Everyone getting geared up for the big game?”
“It was good,” I say, following her into the kitchen. “We’re ready.”
She opens the fridge and bends over to peer inside. “I know you’re not drinking, and the only non-alcoholic beverages I have are water, orange juice, and milk.”
“Water’s fine. Thanks.”
She grabs two bottles of water and turns, bumping the fridge door shut with her hip. Handing one over to me, she twists the top off hers and takes a long drink. My eyes trail down her body, from her messy bun, to her tight tank top, to her baggy sweats and bare feet. She’s as fucking gorgeous as ever.
Her eyes meet mine, and I clear my throat, opening my own bottle and taking a long swig. Then, I twist the top back onto the bottle and set it on the counter before looking around the room.
“I assume you’ve child-proofed the place in preparation for your weekend visitation?” I ask, one corner of my mouth lifting into a smirk.
“Of course,” she says. “I made the place one hundred percent safe for my little Hermie.”
“Hermie?”
She pokes her bottom lip out. “I’m still working on pet names for him.”
I nod, then lift a palm to rub the back of my neck. “Hey, listen, I have a big favor to ask.”
Roxy peers at me through narrowed eyes. “What is it?”
“I was hoping you could teach me to make those cookies? You know, like the ones you made with Tessa to prank Riggs?”
She stares for a moment, then tilts her head and asks, “Do you want big cocks or little cocks?”
“Are there any other shapes? Like boobs or something?”
“Ugh, men,” she grumbles.
“Seriously? You make sweet treats shaped like dicks, and you’re going to give me shit over asking for boobs?”
“You have a point,” she says, her lips curving up into a smile.
She sets her water bottle down next to mine, then heads into her small pantry. When she comes back out, she’s carrying a burlap drawstring bag. Loosening the ties, she upends the bag over the counter and several cookie cutters tumble out.
I pick one up to study it, arching a brow at Roxy. It’s shaped like a big cock, with balls and everything. Setting it back down, I spread the rest of the metal cutters out to study them. There are several sizes of cocks to choose from, one that looks like a pair of boobs, a mouth with the tongue sticking out, and a…football?
I pick up the oblong shape and ask, “You do football cookies, too?”
She takes the cutter from me with a laugh and holds it up. “Not footballs. You have to use icing to draw on the lips and the pleasure button.”
“Lips and…” My eyebrows hike up. “People actually order pussy cookies?”
She shrugs and drops the cutter back to the counter. “I cater to bachelor parties, too. I don’t get a lot of business––men aren’t really concerned about much more than the booze and strippers––but I get orders every once in a while. I make those with extra frosting so the guys can lick it off.”
I laugh, but it’s a bit forced because now all I can think about is licking Roxy’s football. Shoving the thoughts aside, I pick up the boob-shaped cutter.
“I think I’ll stick with the boobs,” I say.
She laughs again. “Okay. When do you want your lesson?”
“How about now?”
She cocks her head. “It’s Friday night. Don’t you have plans?”
Her eyes travel over me, taking in my jacket, nice button down, and designer jeans. My body heats as her gaze slides back up to meet mine. I silently order my dick to heel as it wakes up and starts to twitch.
“My only plans were to come here to drop off Herman and beg you to make me some cookies.”
“I thought you wanted to learn to make them yourself?” she asks cocking one eyebrow.
“That, too,” I say with a grin. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”
She stares at me for a beat, then nods. “Okay. Let’s do it.”