Sweet (True Believers #2)(21)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Maybe that wasn’t exactly the right thing to say.

Riley stopped cramming chocolate into his mouth long enough to c**k his head and say, “Now there’s an image. Thanks for that.”

I flushed. “Sorry. This is why I can’t be a mother. I give terrible advice.”

But Riley laughed. “No, you’re fine. I appreciate the effort. Most girls would have hidden in their rooms, or told me to suck it up, or tried to distract me with sex.”

Well, it wasn’t like that last one hadn’t entered my head. He was practically naked and we were both buzzed and I was oh, maybe falling completely head over ass for him.

I ignored that. “I’ll help you with cleaning up the house. I’m happy to help. We have all weekend. This place will shine like the top of the Chrysler Building.”

He gave me a lopsided smile. “Come here.”

“Come here where?” I asked, suspicious.

“Here.” He held out his hand.

“Are you going to give me a wet willie or something?” I asked, reluctantly standing up and going over to him. I took the remaining half of the peanut butter cup out of his hand and ate it. “Yum.”

“Sit down.” He gestured to his lap.

Oh, no freaking way. No, no, and no. I was not going to sit on his lap when he was in nothing but boxer briefs, eyes still glassy from alcohol. I wasn’t known for resisting temptation. As a kid, if you waved candy in front of me, I would have traded my family for a bag of Jolly Ranchers. I had to admit that I wasn’t sure I could control my feelings when he was so tantalizingly close to my touch.

“Absolutely not,” I told him, unscrewing the cap on the energy drink to hide my expression from his eyes.

But while I was sipping, he grabbed me and pulled me down onto him.

“Riley!” I tried to maneuver away, but it was too late. I fell with a thunk on his thighs, and I realized wiggling around was worse than sitting still. “What?”

“You’re really going to help me clean this dump up?” he asked, suddenly looking earnest.

I studied him for a second, my heart squeezing. “Yes. I already was, but this is just a little more large scale, but still no big deal. We’ll have this place looking amazing and they’ll give you custody of Easton. I promise.” Of course, I couldn’t promise any such thing, but I didn’t want to see him like that.

He smiled. “Thank you. You’re a good person, you know that?”

I shook my head. “I’m not, not really. I’m not awful, but I’m not so nice, truthfully.”

“You are, too. You’re helping me, aren’t you?”

“That’s what friends do.” I put my arms on his shoulders because I was losing my balance. “And we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.” His hand was warm on my back. “We’re definitely friends, Jess. Though I just realized I don’t know your last name.”

“It’s Sweet.” I fingered his necklace, enjoying being this close to him. It might never happen again, so I was going to take advantage of the opportunity. Heat radiated off him, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath. “Ironic, huh?”

“Seriously, that’s your last name?”

I nodded, cheeks burning for some reason. I didn’t blush any more than I cried. So annoying.

“I think it’s appropriate. You are, actually, very sweet.” Riley’s hand shifted underneath my hoodie onto my bare skin, and I shivered. “That’s what I think.”

“I think you’re drunk.” Why did he have to touch me like that? His hand was just resting on the small of my back, his thumb brushing back and forth lazily.

We were in a dangerous position, and he didn’t seem to have a clue. For a long minute, he studied me, his eyes dark in the harsh light of the kitchen, and I held my breath, wondering what he was thinking, wanting him to say something . . . important.

“Maybe.” His gaze dropped. “I never realized how big your tits are. Damn, all this yellow is really distracting.”

Yeah. That wasn’t it.

Disgusted, I jumped up off his lap. “On that note, I’m going to bed. And you should too. Nine a.m., buddy, you need to be in the living room ready to work.”

He saluted me and reached for his cigarettes.

“And no smoking in here!” I zipped up my hoodie all the way. “We just painted this kitchen!” With a sound of exasperation, I threw up my hands and left the room.

Then I had a thought. Rounding on him, I added, “Don’t try to clean up that glass tonight. You’re too drunk and you’ll cut yourself. We can get it tomorrow.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “And you don’t think you’re good mom material. I think it’s there, you just hide it under all that blond.”

As if that didn’t have me speechless, he chose that moment to stand up. Riley sitting in underwear was bad enough. But when he rose in an unfurling of naked hotness, standing in front of me like every girl’s fantasy, my mouth went dry. I half expected water to suddenly drop from the ceiling and land on him for a perfect package of gorgeous wet skin and finish me off completely.

The Wicked Witch had nothing on me when it came to melting.

“Put some pants on,” I told him.

He pointed an unlit cigarette at me and grinned. “See? Right there. Mom. That was perfect.”

First he said I was like his little sister.

Now like a mother?

It was going from bad to worse.

Chapter Seven

I didn’t expect Riley to get out of bed before noon, but there he was, in the kitchen at nine on the nose, brewing coffee and looking sexy in all his hungover scruff. He had a beard growing and dark circles under his eyes, his hair spiked out in all directions, as he shuffled barefoot in a pair of ratty jeans. No shirt of course. I was starting to think I was going to have to buy him a pack of T-shirts for my own sanity.

“What’s up?” he said, his voice sounding like he’d spent the night swallowing rocks. He gave a wet cough that made my stomach turn.

I wasn’t feeling all that fabulous, and the phlegmy sounds he was making weren’t helping. “Hey.” Flopping in a chair, I debated what to eat.

“Want some coffee?”

“No, it’s too hot for coffee.”

“It’s good for a hangover though, of which I have one.” He leaned with his elbows on the counter and rubbed his forehead aggressively. “Did I really kill a fifth of Jack?”