CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
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Ryder
“IF YOU EVER DO THAT to me again, I’m going to have to marry you.”
I couldn’t stop the repetition.
The glorious, terrifying, amazing repetition.
Had she meant it? Or was it heat of the moment stupidity? I’d suffered such insanity when I was about to jizz on Vesper’s yellow curtains. The idiocy of Mrs. Lesley thinking I was her cousin, coupled with the desperate desire to climb inside her had had thoughts of marriage sprouting all over the damn place.
Jokes were fine.
Humour was awesome.
But what was that saying? There is no truer thing said than in jest?
Were Vesper and I playing a game of honesty hidden in quips and one-liners? And if so, just how deep did her feelings go for me and just how deep did mine go for her?
And why did the thought of finding out the answers to those questions fucking petrify me?
“Hey, Ryder?” David bellowed up the stairs. “Special delivery of Kookaburra Kool white paint. Did you want it in the foyer or lounge? ”
Thank hell, my foreman interrupted my thoughts. It was getting scary there for a second. Shrugging away the last of daydream cobwebs, I rearranged my trouser pistol from the semi-erection I’d caused thinking of Vesper on her knees by the river and descended the steps two at a time.
I’d been on the roof all morning replacing reflective metal sheeting, and my skin had picked up an extra layer of tan. I’d been in my bedroom changing into a darker t-shirt and reapplying suncream.
I had no intention of being a lobster when I saw Vesper tonight.
“Just put it in the lounge for now. I think that colour is designated for the corridors and guest wing.”
“Righto.” David nodded as I leapt off the final step.
Grabbing a handle on the ten litre buckets of paint, I helped haul the six tubs to a vacant spot in the lounge. I couldn’t wait to start slapping it on the walls. The amount of demolition, rebuild, and preparation that had to happen before painting always went slow. But the moment paint was applied, boom , progress.
When the last bucket was in place, David nudged me with his elbow. “You going on your date like that?”
I looked down at my black paint-spotted t-shirt and old jeans that I’d torn into shorts. Even my leg hair had splatters of metal shards and roof silicone caught in the curly man strands.
“You got something against my wardrobe?” I pulled my hammer free from my tool belt, eyeing him up in his equally ridiculous wardrobe of wife beater and stubby shorts.
“Nah, mate. But that sexy vet you’ve got the hots for might.”
My eyes narrowed. “How do you know about Vesper?”
He rolled his eyes. “Ah, come on. Small town equals good gossip. Mrs. Lesley is asking around who Vesper’s mysterious naked inappropriately touching cousin is. My wife came home with the tale and a pretty adequate description of you by the way.” He leaned in conspicuously. “She’s not your cousin though, right? Because, dude…stop that.”
“Holy shit, I told Vesper she’d get punished for spreading such stupid rumours.”
David burst into laughter. “So it was you.”
“You just said—”
“Fishing. That’s all. But you just admitted it, so there you go.” He shrugged. “Plus, you do spend far more time than what’s normal at the vets. Only natural you’d hook up with the only woman you have regular contact with.”
“Not true. I could’ve hooked up with another.” It pissed me off that he thought I was just with Vesper because of convenience. Nothing was further from the truth. “She’s special. We’re—”
David’s mouth fell open as he sucked in a noisy breath. “Balls, you’re—” He moved forward, his hand rose as if to take my temperature.
I ducked out of his reach, glaring. “What the—”
“I know that look.” He smirked. “I’ve suffered the same illness.”
“Illness? What illness.” I cupped my scruff-decorated cheek. I didn’t have a fever. I had a minor headache from working on the roof in the sun but that was lack of hydration. I wasn’t sick.
I couldn’t be sick.
I have a date tonight and plenty more hot sex to indulge in.
Could I have come down with what Vesper had, after all?
“The worst sickness in the world.” David nodded importantly. “You’re bloody in love with her.”
I froze.
Shit, having my own thoughts throw such scary words around and jokes about marriage were one thing. Hearing it spoken aloud by the man I paid to run my building site was entirely another.
“Uh…” I swallowed hard. “I don’t know. It’s all…new. ”
“New, old, long, short. All the same.” He patted me on the shoulder as the carpenter strolled through the front door with a spindle for the staircase. “When I met Marge, I knew. One look, three dates, and two weeks later on New Year’s, I told her I loved her. She made me wait two months before she said it back, but every time she hugged me…I knew.”
Keeping my voice down, so other tradesmen wouldn’t hear their boss become a giant love-struck fool, I asked, “How? How did you know?”
David grinned. “Oh, if she loves you, you’ll know. Her hugs will have this weight about them. They’ll reach inside your chest and motherfucking squeeze.” Skirting around me while pulling on his gloves to continue demolishing the wall separating the kitchen and lounge, he added, “But just like you’ll be able to know that she loves you without admitting it, she’ll be able to tell you love her in return. My advice? Don’t hug that girl unless you want her to know. Because after that…she’s got your balls for life.”
* * *
Vesper: I just got home. I know it’s past six p.m. but I really need to pick up a few supplies for the pet store aspect of the clinic. I know we said dinner tonight and I’m sorry to mix business with pleasure…but would you like to come?
Me: I like mixing pleasure with anything. Call me a pleasure addict. And by come, do you mean inside you or just accompany you? (If you didn’t guess, I’d like the first one to be the answer).
Vesper: If you come with me to run an errand. I’ll come with you when I make you come later. Enough ‘coming’ for you?
Me: I’ll have to think about it.
Vesper: How about I add an extra appetiser to tempt you?
Me: Go on…
Vesper: If you come with me, I promise you have an open-ended invitation to use me in whatever way you wish...to come.
My cock grew grabby hands—literally, if the damn thing could operate a phone, it would’ve ripped it from my fingers and slapped back an answer full of expletives and lots of begging.
Vesper: What do you say?
Me: I say you have yourself a deal. I’ll spend the entire errand thinking up ways to take you up on your offer.
Vesper: And that is why I keep you around.
Me: For my brainstorming?
Vesper: No, your insatiable need to come.
Me: You mean my inexhaustible need to do whatever you want.
Vesper: That, too. Now stop texting me and get your butt over here. I want to bite it.
Me: Sounds painful.
Vesper: It will be if you’re late.