He rolled his eyes. “Cuz she has freckles?”
“That, and she’s too f**king sweet. She’s definitely not the type who’d be uninhibited in the bedroom.” Carson laughed. “Can you ever see her going for kinky sex, or hell, a threesome? Shit, I’d love to be in the room and see her face if you ever suggested something like that.”
Another cheer from the front of the café echoed through the room. Garrett shifted his head and saw a couple of petty officers high-fiving over a homerun from the Padres.
Not interested in the game, Garrett turned his gaze back to Carson, but not before he caught another flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. He quickly glanced at the doorway leading to the bakery, but it was empty. Okay. He could’ve sworn he’d seen a flash of yellow—Shelby’s clingy little tank top perhaps?—but when he peered into the next room he saw she was by the counter, still chatting with Lieutenant Asshole.
Another wave of jealousy slammed into him like a tsunami, even fiercer than the first. Goddammit. He hated the raw emotion Shelby, with her vivid blue eyes and mouthwatering body, evoked inside him. It killed him, how much he wanted her. All she had to do was bat those long eyelashes in his direction, give him the slightest hint that she was interested, and he’d be by her side in an instant. No, screw by her side. One word—
and the word was yes—and he’d be so deep inside her pu**y that neither of them would be able to walk again for days.
The thought made his c**k twitch.
Damn, he needed to get out of here. If it weren’t a million degrees out there, he might have left. Gone home, taken a quick dip in his condo’s pool and slid into bed. But spending the rest of the night in the dark, sweating out this heat wave, was seriously unappealing. Shelby’s café was the only place with power, and besides, as annoying as it was watching her with another man, at least he could keep an eye on her while he was here. Make sure she didn’t get plastered and do something stupid, like the lieutenant.
Yeah, that’s why you’re sticking around, a small voice taunted.
Fine, so maybe a part of him was hoping Shelby would get plastered and do him.
A guy could dream, after all.
Chapter Two
Can you ever see her going for kinky sex, or hell, a threesome?
Shelby kept running the words over and over again in her head, wondering if she’d somehow imagined them. It was hard enough to think in this sweltering heat—add to that a shot of tequila and you got one struggling-to-function brain.
But no, she couldn’t have imagined it. She’d heard Garrett and Carson, loud and clear, as they’d discussed her. Scratch that—as they’d discussed all the reasons to not have sex with her.
It really was quite insulting, that they’d been indulging in locker room talk about her in her place of business. And yet a part of her was…flattered. Jeez, what was wrong with her? How could she possibly be flattered by the fact that Garrett and his buddy thought she was vanilla?
At least it answered the question she’d been asking herself the past year. John Garrett didn’t want to sleep with her because apparently she wasn’t wild enough for him.
Oh, she knew he liked her. He’d made that pretty clear during his chat with Carson.
But he also made it clear that he thought she was sweet. Not sweet, as in “man, she’s got a sweet ass” but sweet as in “I don’t want to f**k her because she’s obviously a huge prude in the sack”.
“I am not a prude,” she mumbled to herself.
“What was that, hon?”
Her head jerked up and she realized Paul was beside her again. “Oh. Nothing. I didn’t say anything,” she lied, suddenly wishing this man would just disappear.
One of the other officers was throwing up in the café restroom, so she’d let the lieutenant use the bathroom in the upstairs apartment, where she’d lived for the past two years. Paul’s absence had allowed her to eavesdrop on Garrett’s conversation, but now she kind of wished she’d never been nosy enough to lurk in the doorway. The last thing a woman wanted to hear was that the man she had the hots for didn’t think she was wild enough for him.
“So what do you say we kick all these losers out and go upstairs?”
Okay, so maybe that was the last thing a woman wanted to hear.
She shot the lieutenant a pointed look. “What would your wife have to say about that?”
He looked startled for a moment, then glanced down at the gold wedding band on his left hand as if remembering it was there. Uh, yeah, buddy, maybe take the ring off before you try to hit on a woman who isn’t your wife.
“My wife and I are actually separated,” Paul said quickly.
Yeah right.
“I’m sure the separation must be very painful for you,” Shelby said politely.
“So, the going upstairs idea…” He looked at her with a hopeful expression.
She just stared at him.
The hope dissipated like a puff of smoke. “Right.” He shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
She opened her mouth to retort that, yes, she could blame a guy for trying, especially a married one, but he scurried off before she could speak.
Trying not to roll her eyes, Shelby watched as Paul ambled into the café, muttered something to the officer he’d arrived with, then left her establishment without a backwards glance.
“Jerk,” she muttered to herself.
“Please tell me you had something to do with Lieutenant Asshole running off like that.” Carson Scott appeared in the doorway, grinning.