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  “Hello beautiful,” he says.

  “She’s seven Rico.”

  “Doesn’t matter. We’re all beautiful, no matter how young or how old.”

  “Hi Rico. I’m Charlotte.”

  “Your charm knows no limits I see,” I say as I turn and walk back to the kitchen.

  “Treat everyone with respect. Just like my momma taught me.”

  Rico definitely is a nice guy. It’s part of his charm. He makes everyone feel a little bit better about everything. He elevates the room with his compliments and positivity. I just didn’t know they even extended to seven-year-olds.

  I’m not four steps away when I hear a different voice, but one I’d recognize from miles and miles.

  “Hey,” I hear her say. I turn back and see Violet standing just behind Rico in the doorway.

  “Hi. I’m Rico.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Rico leans in to kiss Violet on the cheek and I feel rage boil inside me. I like Rico a lot, but not right now.

  Violet leans forward but considerably out of the way, causing Rico’s kiss that was intended for her cheek to wind up finding air about five inches from her face.

  “I’m Violet. And this is my friend Penelope.”

  I see Violet look into the house. Her gaze catches mine immediately. She waves a cute, quick little wave and I start to raise my hand to wave back before I catch myself halfway.

  I run my hand over the top of my head and offer a simple, “Hey Violet.” Play it cool, Chance. I have to remind myself. But it’s hard to be cool when my blood was just boiling at the thought of another guy planting a kiss on her cheek.

  I can’t tell Rico to lay off Violet. Not here. Not now. And definitely not with her brother just a few feet away in the kitchen. If I play my hand too strong it will be too obvious. Plus, why am I even considering this? I’m still unavailable. That’s how it is and how it’s going to be.

  Fortunately it looks like my potential problem with Rico has just been solved.

  Violet walks through the doorway and just behind her I get a quick glimpse of Penelope. Her skirt isn’t inappropriate, it’s just a little too short for a holiday get together. Maybe tonight when midnight rolls around it could work…if we were downtown and she was looking to get kissed…by everyone.

  Rico offers her the same greeting as he did Violet, but this time his kiss doesn’t come up empty. He gets her cheek squarely and I can see she also gets a good chunk of his. I can already tell where this is going…just as long as it doesn’t go down in my house I’m good-to-go.

  “Good to see you again,” Violet says.

  “Good to see you,” I say. Before I can even consider what to do I lean in for a hug. I do my best to keep it friendly and appropriate, but she leans in a little more than I expected and I feel her body against mine sending my cock skyward immediately.

  I push my hips back. “I have to be careful. I might have some flour or something on me.”

  “Oh. You’re cooking?”

  “I know how to make a few things.” It’s true, but what definitely isn’t true is that I’m not even cooking with flour and I changed my shirt fifteen minutes ago after I finished cooking.

  What is true is that I need to do my best to hide the erection that her touch immediately gave me. As much as I would enjoy feeling her body against mine now is neither the time nor the place. I’m certainly not up to speed on all the proper etiquette in regards to entertaining guests, but I would guess that greeting a visitor with an erection says welcome to my home a little too strongly.

  I couldn’t even imagine taking it to the next level. I try and push back the thought. I shouldn’t be thinking this way anyways. For some reason I just can’t get the idea of her naked standing in front of me waiting for me to take her out of my mind.

  A part of me wants her more and more by the second, but another part of me is telling me it’s wrong on so many different levels. I still haven’t figured out how to reconcile the dilemma with logic and reason, or if I even can.

  CHAPTER 20

  Violet

  After dinner we’re all in the living room playing Trivial Pursuit. Half of us are in the camp that’s thinking about going out for a drink and the other camp is thinking about staying home.

  In my quest to expand my comfort zone I know I should be in the group that wants to go out. But tonight I have in mind a different way to expand my comfort zone and it starts with Chance’s comfort.

  When I arrived I probably went a little overboard with my hug. I crossed that line from hello into something just a tad more personal. And speaking of personal I felt something very personal pressing up against me.

  He felt hard, but I could feel the bend in his rod. His jeans must have been stretching to the limit to keep his erection contained. I’m sure it was well past his comfort zone.

  Dinner was incredible. I didn’t really know Chance could cook. He and my brother always just grabbed sandwiches or when they were over at my house they’d just grab deli meat that was meant for sandwiches, but instead they’d just fold a wad of it in half and shove it in their mouths.

  No wonder they had such great bodies. They were doing paleo before there was paleo, plus whatever carbs they did consume were quickly burnt off by all their sports, weightlifting, and other activities.

  After spending a lot of time thinking about it leading up to tonight I wasn’t really sure what I’d think about Charlotte. Not so much her though. I definitely love kids. I just wondered how we’d get along and if I could even fathom being involved in her life…even as her dad’s “friend.”

  She was a real sweetheart, and had more energy than anyone in the room. Whether she was whispering hints, guessing out of turn, or taking cartwheel breaks in between throws of the die, it seemed she had an unending supply of energy. I just wondered if she ever got tired. And if a situation came about later this evening where it was just her, her dad, and I left back at the house and I wanted to get to know him a little better in a one-on-one kind of way I was wondering if that would be possible or Charlotte would still be bouncing off the walls which wouldn’t allow us the privacy I’d be looking for.

  “Anybody ready for dessert?” Chance asks.

  “I am!” Charlotte says.

  “Okay then. Can you stay and make the guesses for our team while I go and get it?”

  “Yes. Please! Please! Please!”

  “Please what?” Chance says.

  “Since I’m doing twice the work can I get twice the desserts?”

  Chance smirked. Wow, it was the first time I’d seen him do that and hopefully not the last. Sometime after dinner he’d managed to slip out of his shirt and now was just in a white T-shirt, Levi’s and a leather belt. No proper shirt. No shoes. But I definitely wanted to service him. He was the epitome of the All-American working class male. The hero who dressed like the anti-hero from the days of Brando and Dean. God, he was so sexy.

  “Well, let’s let everyone have one first and then we can see how much is left.”

  Charlotte gives him a big puppy dog face. Her lower lip must have extended a full half an inch out and an inch down.

  “My turn!” she said as she quickly grabbed the die.

  Her pout was funnier than it was childish. I thought it was cute that she knew how to bring out the childish aspects to full effect, but she didn’t play on them or use them to try and whine and get her way. It was more just for fun. Someone had obviously been raising her right.

  Chance turned to go to the kitchen and I reached down to scratch my ankle. At least that’s how I wanted it to look. Really I was just watching those 501s of his as they hugged his butt, but not too much. Skinny jeans? No thanks. A man who knows how to wear the pants, literally and figuratively? Yes please!

  Charlotte got a science question and pondered the name of the semiaquatic egg-laying mammal from Australia. I pondered what Chance was up to in the kitchen.

  “Anybody want to help me serve?” he says. It
’s as if he read my mind.

  “You’ve got two hands,” my brother says as he rubs his stomach. “I think I overate.”

  “Didn’t you do that at Thanksgiving too?” Rico asks.

  “Every chance I get when there’s a home-cooked meal. Even if it’s prepared by ol’ Chance. I don’t discriminate.”

  “I’ll give him a hand,” I say. I slide my chair back and stand. I’m careful not to make eye contact with anyone but I’m definitely watching my brother out of the corner of my eye. He’s focused on the board, but his eyes are looking more through the board than at it. I know his mind isn’t on the game, and I know just where it is.

  “I’m glad it’s you,” Chance says as he turns to see me when he hears my feet on the kitchen floor.

  “You are?” I say. I’m completely unsure where this is headed.

  “Yeah, I owe you a coffee from the other day. Would you like some with your cake?”

  “Coffee and cake. Yeah, that sounds really nice,” I say.

  “It might take a minute or two to prepare,” Chance says.

  “No problem,” I say, but what I’m really thinking is “perfect.” It gives us a few minutes alone here in the kitchen.

  Chance reaches up to the top shelf for the coffee. He keeps it in what appears to be an airtight glass container. He takes his brewing this seriously?

  As he reaches his shirt comes up a bit and I can see his strong lower back. The curve of his spine is perfect. I just want to run my hands along it.

  And those oblique muscles along the sides of his torso? I didn’t even know they made muscles that defined in that part of the body.

  And the way his jeans sit low on his hips? I can see where his upper and lower body connect and become one amazing, complete specimen. It’s as if looking at him is like seeing the real life visualization of the perfect definition of the male body. I feel like I’m in high school anatomy class studying Adonis. I just wish I was around front so I could see the lines in the front…those two lines that go at an angle, tracing the inner lines of the hip bones and leading right down to another kind of dessert.

  “This is the good stuff from Italy. I haven’t had it in awhile. One of the guys from the station went on vacation over there and brought some back.”

  “Real Italian coffee. I don’t think I’ve ever had any.”

  “Well then you’re in for a treat,” he says. “Unfortunately I don’t have one of those Bialetti stovetop espresso makers, but I do have a French press.”

  “I feel like I’m taking a tour of Europe right here in your kitchen.”

  “Well, if you put it that way,” Chance says. He looks over my shoulder to make sure no one’s behind us. He opens the cabinet door underneath the sink and pulls out one of those mini stepladders. Now he’s really got me wondering.

  He arranges the stepladder and climbs to the top. He reaches on top of the cupboard and slides his hand all the way back to where the cupboard connects to the wall.

  “Close your eyes,” he says.

  I do as he asks and a few seconds later I sense something underneath my nose. I breathe in deep and smell the most wonderful, deep dark notes of chocolate that I’ve ever smelled.

  “Can I open them?” I ask.

  “If you think you can contain yourself. I have to warn you, it’s not easy.”

  I open my eyes and he’s holding a chocolate bar in front of me in both hands like it’s a golden egg he doesn’t dare drop.

  “The finest Switzerland has to offer. I’ve never shared it with anyone.”

  “Well then I can’t be—”

  He reaches his index finger up to my lips, silencing me and a whole lot more.

  He’s barely touching me, but I can feel his strength, just in that one index finger. And there’s a musky aroma to his hands. It doesn’t smell like he’s been cooking all day. It smells like he’s been at a lumber mill, milling the finest mahogany timbers and the scent has just become a part of his essence. I have to hold myself back from kissing his finger, or a whole lot more.

  “I insist,” he says. “Just please promise me you won’t be like your brother.”

  I make a face showing him I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  “I got some chocolate from Indonesia once. I broke him off a piece and that was the end of it. He finished it off in about thirty seconds flat and he’s been asking for more ever since. That’s why I go to great lengths to hide it.”

  I can’t help but giggle a bit. Two big burly guys, best friends for life, and the one’s hiding his secret stash of chocolate from the other.

  He removes his finger from the tip of my lips and I instantly miss it. I want to reach for his wrist and suck on his digit, but I somehow restrain myself.

  He’s torturing my senses in more ways than he can imagine. And now I wonder just how sharp his scenes are. Can he smell that I’ve literally gone into heat? He’s turning me into an animal.

  He carefully breaks off a piece and brings it to my lips stopping just short. He looks deep into my eyes and I open my mouth. God, how I wish he were sliding something else inside.

  He places the chocolate gently on my tongue, but doesn’t move his fingers. I pause making sure we’re on the same page, and quickly realize that we are. I wrap my lips around his fingers and he slowly slides them out of my mouth. As I feel them drag across my lips I strengthen my jaw ever so slightly dragging the tips of my teeth across them as well.

  I am freaking dripping wet.

  He still hasn’t removed those beautiful eyes of his from mine, nor have I removed mine from his. I move my mouth slowly and take in the taste of the chocolate. Now that I’ve taken his fingers in my mouth, another orifice of mine that’s located in my midsection wishes it had a turn to grasp onto one of his other appendages.

  The sensation of the chocolate is incredible. It’s luxurious and deep, like the notes he hits when he speaks and when he moans in my fantasies. I’ve never tasted something that moved me so much in my entire life. Sure, I haven’t exactly dined in the finest of restaurants but I can cook. Nothing I’ve ever made compares to this.

  “Do you like it?” he asks.

  “It’s incredible.”

  “I knew it.”

  “That I’d like it?”

  “Nope. That you’re going to be knocking on my door now at two a.m. in the middle of the week like a junkie looking for a fix.”

  “No I won’t!” I say.

  “I would say that’s what they all say, but I don’t have any experience when it comes to this. I mean your brother fell pretty hard, but that was just Indonesian chocolate…not that their chocolate is anything to shake a stick at. This Swiss stuff? It’s like a shock to your entire reality.”

  “I totally agree.”

  “Want another one?” he asks.

  I don’t say anything. I don’t want to sound greedy, but wow…how can I say no?

  “Have to wait until next time,” he says and quickly jumps back on the stepladder.

  I go to slap him on the arm, but he moves too quickly. Instead I miss and my hand comes down right on his butt!

  “That chocolate’s bringing out a different side of you,” he says as he places it back in its secret hiding spot. He reaches again exposing his midsection. He’s turned more toward me this time so I get a look at half of the front of him. I get a clear shot of one of those two diagonal hipbone lines that run right to the main course, and I’m floored.

  “Were you just going to leave that there?” he asks.

  “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry!” I say. I remove my hand from his booty and feel myself blushing.

  The water kettle starts boiling and I realize I didn’t even hear him turn it on.

  He steps down from the ladder and scoops out one scoop from his secret coffee stash. I feel like we’re playing a game here with all the secret stashes he has in his house. It’s a game I’m definitely enjoying…and winning.

  He dumps the scoop into a French press and slow
ly pours the boiling water over the top. The glass steams and I imagine the same thing happening in his shower…the backseat of his car…or a warm hotel room in the Swiss Alps right about now as we explore each other all night long as the snow outside gently falls on the Matterhorn.

  “How long do you let it steep?” I ask. I can’t think of anything better to say.

  “Not long. It’s dark enough as is. It’s the perfect compliment to the chocolate.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?” I ask, realizing the double meaning of my words, as I sure would like to experience something deep and bold with him right now.