Whiskey Sharp: Jagged. Lauren Dane

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and various relations with heavy accents had been close enough, she figured.

      And it worked. Like really, really worked. It didn’t hurt that he also happened to be gorgeous. Sinfully sexy. Funny. Super smart. He worked with his hands so he had great forearms. One of her favorite parts of a man.

      Over the years Rachel and Maybe had lived next door to his parents, he’d come to be an acquaintance. And since her sister had gone and fallen in love with his cousin, Rachel and Vic had gone from acquaintances to friends.

      And the door had been opened to something else. Something more. The possibility of what could be hung between them.

      She considered not replying. He wouldn’t know either way. He was messy. She couldn’t keep him in a tidy box marked Friend. Not any longer and certainly not if she went and texted with him at three forty-seven in the morning.

      Couldn’t sleep. Working instead. Why are you up so early? Hot date that went late? Just enjoying stalking my window like a creeper?

      It was a joke, or she wouldn’t have said it. His house sat on the curve of their street, so from his front window and driveway he could see the side of the house Rachel’s bedroom was on.

      I run a bakery. I’m usually up by four thirty most days. Today I switched with my mother so she could accompany Evie to a doctor’s appointment. I start work in about half an hour or so.

      Ah.

      He always smelled really good. Like bread and cake and just a smidge of vanilla. She wanted to take a bite. Or a lick. Something of the sort.

      Vic made her tingly and warm and sometimes he made her want things she didn’t need.

      And yet, she found herself responding because she liked him—more than she should—and around Vic she was less alone. And maybe closer to being a normal person again who did things like have crushes and went out on dates with hot bakers.

      Save me a loaf of black bread. I’ll drop by later this morning to pick it up on my way to work.

      Then she’d be able to get some food and look her fill at him while she did it.

      That’d most definitely give her workday a fine start.

      I’ll save you two and throw in some salmon. But you don’t need to come get it. I’ll be done by eleven. I’ll drop it by your house when I go home.

      A flush washed through her. She’d be alone in the house by then.

      It wasn’t that having him in her house was bad. It was that he was dangerous for her constitution because she wanted to jump on him and ride him like a stallion.

      Which would be a bad idea. Probably.

      Possibly.

      Not that she planned on avoiding it. The having him in her house part. The riding like a stallion was still in the fantasy stages.

      Okay. Thanks, she typed back.

      It wasn’t like she had no self-control. She could say hello and look at his butt and flirt and it would be fine. She was a grown woman!

      And, since this was just a conversation in her head, she could admit that maybe she wanted something to happen with him. They had chemistry—major chemistry—and she got the feeling, given the way he moved, that he knew his business when it came to a woman’s body.

      She went back to her pad but instead of the drawing, all she could think of was Vic and those shoulders of his. Wide. Not linebacker wide, but solid and strong. Capable. She liked that.

      In fact, she was bummed she’d agreed to let him bring the bread to their house because she realized he probably looked ridiculously hot when at work. She bet it was pornographic just watching him knead bread. She already had watched him in her kitchen doing things and gotten a little swoony.

      Yeah.

      Her phone pinged again.

      How often do you have trouble sleeping?

      That was a very long and complicated subject and one she didn’t want to get into via text, in the middle of some flirting.

      I get most of my best work done after midnight.

      Truth.

      He sent her a selfie. One of his brows was raised and he wore a smirk. All parts south of her hairline went on alert. She’d be keeping that picture of him. Just for reference. Or something.

      He was unf-worthy for sure. He was just so fucking much. Hot hot hot.

      Hm. What’s that face for?

      Other than licking and kissing. Perhaps even a nuzzle of that spectacular beard.

      That’s my I don’t believe you face. As for sleeplessness, I have some tea that might help. I’ve had bouts myself. What time do you leave for work?

      Rachel frowned again and then forced herself to relax. That line between her eyes was getting deeper due to what her sister called glowering. Whatever it was called, it was going to make her look old if she didn’t stop it.

      She’d rather think about how Vic’s waist nipped in, creating some sort of inhuman pizza shape of gorgeousness from his shoulders to his other parts, like his penis.

      His cock was probably commensurate with his overall size. Which meant big. And what sane gal didn’t like that? Well, if she liked dick in the first place—and Rachel most assuredly did.

      Her little sister, Maybe, had been giving more get it, girl messages when it came to Vic over the last weeks.

      Maybe, with all her glitter and snarling punk rock. Her sister was a little bit of the best parts of all sorts of things and she blurted weird stuff all the time.

      It was one of her finest qualities because you always knew where you stood with Maybe. She didn’t play games and she loved and protected Rachel as if it was she who was the oldest, not Rachel.

      Hello? Did you fall asleep? he texted.

      Before she’d gone off on some fantasy about his body, he’d asked her a question, hadn’t he?

      I’m leaving at a quarter to noon so I can catch my bus.

      Rachel liked taking the bus. It forced her out of her comfort zone to be around people in such close quarters. Every time she managed to make it through without freaking out or getting even slightly uncomfortable she began to believe she’d truly be better at some point. And it cost a crapton of money to park in Pioneer Square.

      Some days she drove or rode in with Maybe and Alexsei, who both worked just a block away from the tattoo shop, but that day she’d planned on busing into downtown as her sister and her sister’s boyfriend were headed in earlier than Rachel needed to be there.

      I have to go back downtown this afternoon anyway. I’ll be at your house by eleven thirty. I’ll make you brunch and give you a ride to work after. Turning off my phone now as I’m headed out the door. See you later today.

      Oh!

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