“Are you…” he pressed his finger under my chin and lifted my head “…blushing?”
“No.” My gulp did nothing to make my response believable.
His gaze danced along my face as he left his finger under my chin. A smile captured his mouth the way my lips wanted to capture it.
No. No. No. No!
“Come over to my house.”
“W-why?” My numb tongue stumbled over the shock of his invitation.
“Because it’s eight o’clock and we have nothing better to do.” The bend of his lips intensified into pure sin.
My nervous laugh made an encore performance. “Sorry. I’m not following. You’re inviting me over to your house to eat my dinner?”
“Sure. That too.”
“No.” I shook my head, breaking our physical connection. “Sorry, you don’t get to say ‘that too’ without further explanation. Call me dense, but you’re going to have to spell it out.”
“S.E.X.”
“With me?” The words flew out on their own.
Kael chuckled. “No. I’ve invited someone else over for sex. I just thought you’d like to watch.”
My eyes narrowed. “Not funny.”
“I think if you said yes to watching me have sex with someone else, some people would find it quite hilarious. Not a lot.” His lips twisted. “But a few people in this town have a solid sense of humor.”
“You’re my nemesis. Twelve years younger than me. And my side of guacamole is going to go brown if I don’t get home soon and eat it.”
“Brown guacamole would be a serious shame.”
My head dipped into a weary nod—my reluctant gaze glued to his, measuring his reaction, gauging his sincerity. It wasn’t that I thought his offer wasn’t real—even if being the recipient of Saturday shaboink for so many years had chipped away at my sense of self-esteem. His angle interested me the most.
Why me?
Epperly wasn’t a huge town, but it was home to a fair number of single women in his age group.
Why the widow with four kids?
“Maybe I can be your nemesis during the day, but at night …”
That stupid grin. No wonder all the women in town were buying up his inventory. Snake charmer.
“I’m out of your league.” I mentally high-fived myself so hard my head spun. I didn’t say the why me. I thought it, but I didn’t let him see anything but my artificial confidence—as satisfying as a diet soda.
Not older.
Not wrinkled.
Not flabby.
Out of his league.
Brilliant!
His laugh. That smile. The visceral energy he exuded. I wasn’t immune to any of it.
“I’ll give you that. So what does one have to do to get into the major league with you?”
“Look …” I drew in a confident breath and found words to match my age and expected level of maturity. “I don’t know how things work in your world, but in mine … I have kids, and a dog, and responsibilities that involve making smart decisions. And I’m fairly certain that what you’re suggesting isn’t smart or mature or really even sane. So I’m going to have to pass on your offer or invitation or whatever it is that you just suggested.”
“I suggested you come to my house for sex. But I can take a raincheck if you’re busy tonight.”
A weird feeling settled in my chest and tickled my tummy. Giddiness … maybe. It was hard to say. I couldn’t remember the last time someone made me feel that way. Craig did when we met. He had this confidence that rode the arrogant line without completely crossing over into the asshole category.
Confidence.
I missed a confident man. Maybe I became Craig’s safe place in life. Owning a business and doing things like starting equipment with pull cords probably zapped all his alpha energy, leaving me with the leftovers—insecure sex commentary and painful indecisiveness.
Kael exuded confidence, and that by itself made it unlikely that I wouldn’t repeat my immoral dreams. Adding in the Captain America resemblance and the recent discovery that he had a thing for Good Samaritan work … it pretty much left me doomed to do something stupid.
“A part of me wants your business to go under. Do you still want to have sex with me?”
His eyes, along with his white teeth, illuminated the night sky. My words seemed to have the opposite of their intended effect. “Elsie, I nearly fucked you in your shop the day you said you were going to take me down. I would be epically disappointed if you surrendered your obsessive desire to destroy me.”
Over twenty years of marriage, not once did Craig use the f-word in reference to sex with me. I think it would have seemed a little crass. That wasn’t us. We had sex and made love. Sometimes we’d “do it.” However, I would have preferred “fuck” to “shaboink” any day of the week.
Clearing my throat, my shaky hand curled my hair behind my ear. “I uh … was there that day in my shop. And I can say for certain that you were nowhere close to doing … that to me … with me.” I shook my head as I tripped over my words. “Whatever.”