“I can’t exactly do a date sort of thing,” Abigale said. Nerves jangled inside her belly and if she wasn’t making the batch of cookies for an event that evening, she would have been tempted to just start eating some of the dough to calm those nerves.
A date . . . They couldn’t do a date, not around his family. Denise would get the worst idea. Not that it would be bad, Denise thinking about her and Zach—
What? Her mind skittered to a halt as she realized just what she was thinking. There was no way she could go around Zach’s mom and dad and let them think they were dating. As much as she loved to tease Denise and Ron about their unending quest to see their boys settled down, she knew what would happen if she showed up there as Zach’s date.
Denise would get that look in her eyes.
That hopeful, starry-eyed look.
And then when it ended . . . It was a thought that made an ache settle right square in her heart. When it ended . . .
Strong, warm arms folded around her. “What are you thinking so hard about, sugar?”
Abigale tried not to let herself react as he rubbed his lips over her neck but it was damned hard. They’d been having their . . . torrid affair for less than two weeks. They’d spent the week together and had sex more times than she could—well, that was wrong. Seven times over the weekend. They’d had sex seven glorious times over the weekend. Less than two weeks and one weekend together and her body was already responding to him like she’d been made to do just that.
“I’m thinking I need to get the cookies done so I can start prepping for everything else . . . this is something I’m doing for a friend and I’ve got a lot of work to get done,” she hedged.
“Why do you try to lie to me?” He nuzzled her neck. “You never were any good at it. You can pull it off with everybody else, but you can’t ever lie to me worth a damn and we both know it.”
She sniffed and slammed the bowl down on the counter with a thunk. Wiggling around in the circle of his arms, she glared up at him. “I can, too. And I’ll have you know I do have a lot of work to get done.”
A grin tugged up the corner of his mouth and he said, “The hell you can.”
He reached behind her and she smacked his hand. “Damn it, Zach. That’s for a PTO thing tonight. You can’t have any.”
“A PTO thing?” His brows came together over his eyes. “Somebody is paying you to cater a PTO thing? Parents are supposed to bake the cookies and cakes and pies themselves.”
She sighed. “It’s some kind of meeting with the school board. The lady who contacted me is a friend and she told me, and I quote . . . ‘I want them in a good mood and if I don’t provide the desserts, they’ll be coming for my blood.’ So I’m doing the desserts. We worked out a trade, though. Her husband handles my landscaping and I need some more work done so she said she’d talk him into cutting me a deal if I’d help her out.”
“Pushover.” He dipped his head and nipped her lower lip. “Now . . . what were you thinking about? It sure as hell wasn’t cookies. You can do cookies and just about everything else blindfolded.” Then he flexed his hand and grimaced. “Although I don’t recommend it. Kitchen accidents are hazardous to your health.”
She squirmed and tried to wiggle away from him but he just leaned his hips against hers.
Oh . . . her lids dropped and a sigh shuddered out of her. That just felt so very right. Like almost nothing else ever had. “You did hear the part about me having a lot of work to do, right?” she asked. She pretended not to hear the way her breath hitched in her throat.
“Yes . . . and if you want to get to it, you should answer.” He slid a hand down her hip and toyed with the hem of the skirt she wore. “Otherwise, I’m going to think of something else to distract myself with. Hey . . . I know.”
She jabbed him in the ribs. “You’re such a juvenile.”