A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(30)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“Thanks, Mac.”

The nickname was an unhappy result of their newfound familiarity. Everyone in this town seemed compelled to call him Mac, which was slowly driving him to insanity. The only person who called him Boston was Shelby, and he was avoiding her like vending machine food.

“I’m having a picnic at the house tomorrow after the Fourth of July parade. We’d love to have you stop by,” Bob added.

Boston paused in the doorway. “A picnic?” He didn’t think he’d ever been to an actual authentic picnic before. “Sure, I’d like that.”

“Good. The wife’s looking forward to meeting you. We’re at 1532 Turkey Trail. White house with gray shutters. Noon is when everyone’s coming by.”

“Turkey Trail?” Boston asked. “What the hell kind of a street name is that?”

Bob rolled his eyes. “The development is called Hunting Valley, so all the streets have wildlife themes. It’s better than Phil’s neighborhood, though. They have a Dutch theme, so he lives on Wooden Shoe Drive.”

Boston laughed.

“They’re the only two developments in Cuttersville, so if you want a house less than forty years old, you don’t have a lot of choices.”

Boston thought he’d prefer the eccentric White House to living on Turkey Trail, but he kept his mouth shut. “Thanks for the invite, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bob waved and Boston headed for the parking lot to retrieve his BMW. It was hot outside, a sweltering ninety degrees, and he undid his tie immediately and threw it on the passenger seat. He cranked on the air-conditioning for the ten-minute drive home.

After two and a half weeks, Cuttersville was definitely tolerable, with the goal of trying to run the Samson Plastics plant at top efficiency challenging and interesting. He liked his job, even under these hazy circumstances, and in the past had always been happier problem solving at work than doing just about anything else.

He felt the same in Cuttersville, except for one glaring exception. He enjoyed spending time with Shelby, and staying away from her all week had been difficult but necessary. There was a whole list of reasons he shouldn’t get involved with Shelby, enough to fill a spreadsheet, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her.

There was just something about her golden skin, her soft brown eyes, and that unruly hair that did things to him. Things that resulted in an erection. He wanted her, to touch and taste and hold her, and he wanted to force her attention solely on him, so she’d be so turned on that the house could burn down and she wouldn’t even notice.

He wanted her, and he couldn’t have her, and she was standing on his porch.

Looking hot in a pair of denim shorts that hovered just above her hips and a little tiny white top that tied behind her neck and showed off her smooth stomach. There was no way she could be wearing a bra with that thing, and as she leaned against the porch post, her br**sts thrust out seductively, beckoning him.

He wanted to answer the call, to walk up to that porch and escort her straight to his bedroom, but Boston contained himself. Barely. Adjusting his too-full pants, he got out of the car and waved to her.

“Hi, Shelby. How are you?”

She smiled, and Boston almost stopped walking and got back in his car. Her smile was inviting, and it turned him on so bad he was scared.

“I’m fine. Hot.” She pulled her shirt out and fanned air up her cle**age. “How ’bout yourself?”

“I’m good.” Never bigger. Better, never better.

“Am I interrupting anything? Are you expecting someone—maybe a friend from Chicago?” She searched his face, leaning forward and studying him like the answer was really important.

Boston wasn’t sure what she was digging for, so he shrugged. “No.” None of his friends in Chicago would come to Cuttersville unless they were threatened with bodily harm and financial ruin. And even if one of his friends were to show up right at that moment, he’d tell them to turn around and go home because he wanted to be with Shelby.

She was gorgeous, absolutely delicious. Her skin was dewy from the heat, and her hands were digging into the back pockets of her tight shorts, making her look like a pinup for a farmers’ daughters calendar. She wasn’t wearing his Daisy Duke fantasy high heels, but almost as good, she was barefoot.

He was so hard he decided he couldn’t walk.

Pausing at the bottom of the steps, he gave her a smile, grateful he’d just undergone a bleaching treatment a month ago. Maybe his blinding white smile would draw her attention away from the pointed gun in his pants aimed at her.

“Then you don’t mind my stopping by?” Shelby rolled her shoulder on the post so she was now turned to him. Her head still lolled back, and she looked relaxed and sexy, her br**sts dangerously close to his mouth.

She definitely wasn’t wearing a bra. The outline of her nipple nudged through the cotton top and his mouth watered. “Oh, no, I don’t mind you stopping by. Want to come in?” And let me suck your ni**les?

“I really just wanted to ask you something.” Her tongue came out and wet her bottom lip, eye level to him since he was three steps down from her.

He wanted to follow her tongue with his and nudge past those plump lips into her moist mouth. To grind her tight little denim shorts against him while his fingers floated up under that deceptively innocent top. “Sure, ask away.”

“It’s kind of a favor.” She sucked in her breath nervously, her chest rising temptingly in front of him.

“Ask me.” He was liable to agree to just about anything while mesmerized by her br**sts.

“I was hoping you could agree to be here for the five o’clock tour every day.”

His head snapped up.

She rushed on. “My numbers have been really good, and I’m making money hand over fist this week, but people want to see something and nothing’s happening. Gran and I think the house reacts to you, and if you’re there, the tour-goers might see something to get their money’s worth.”

The argument wasn’t winning him over. He had no interest in being a sideshow freak, having bitter dead chicks heaving lamps at him for people’s entertainment. If ghosts really even existed in the first place and it wasn’t all some explainable coincidence.

He opened his mouth.

“Please,” Shelby said, eyes darting to the ground. “If people don’t see anything, they’ll talk the tour down. I’ll be out of business, and . . . and, I’m broke. I need the job.”