Muffin Top (Page 14)

Her dad made a tut-tut noise. “Just drive safe.”

“We will.” A low growl sounded, and the tips of two pointed ears appeared at the bottom right hand of the screen. “Is that Gussie?”

She’d done her best to pretend the French Bulldog was going to a kennel for the four days she’d be home. It wasn’t that Gussie was a mean dog or even a bad dog, it’s just he had some nasty habits that made being around him awkward to say the least.

“Yes, it is,” her dad said as he looked down at the dog who was almost completely out of camera range. “Look at my boy. He’s such a good boy.”

Her dad might think so, but the Frenchie wasn’t a good boy, he was a total dog. Right on cue, she could see his pointy little ears bobbing forward and back. Lucy closed her eyes. She didn’t have to see more than just the tips of the dog’s ears to know what he was doing. Gussie was humping the stuffed reindeer a patient had given her dad that the dog had fallen in lust with at first sight.

“Dad, do you have to let him do that?” she asked, her cringe reaching all the way to her internal organs.

“It’s better not to interrupt, Lucy. It’s a totally natural thing.”

Platitudes like that were what she’d grown up hearing, thanks to the fact that her dad was a sex therapist. That didn’t change her mind at all. To make it even worse, two things happened right then.

One, Frankie walked out of the bathroom wearing only a white towel he was holding mostly together with one hand.

Two, her dad bobbled his phone, changing the angle so there was no missing Gussie as he…ahem…finished.

“What in the hell?” both men asked at the same time.

Lucy slammed the phone to her more than ample chest, glad her cleavage was good for more than storing cash and the occasional tube of chapstick.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” she hissed at Frankie as if her dad hadn’t already gotten an eyeful.

“Because I just came out of the shower,” Frankie said, looking at her as if she’d just grown a second head. “Why are you watching dog porn?”

Her jaw dropped. What the hell? “It’s not dog porn, you sicko. I’m talking to my dad.”

“And he’s watching dog porn?” Frankie asked.

“No.” Oh God, how in the world did she explain this? “Gussie is just…enthusiastic.”

“And he’s got a schedule he likes to stick to.” Her dad’s muffled voice came from the phone’s speaker crushed against her chest. “More importantly, why is your so-called only a friend naked in your room, young lady?”

“Dad,” she said with an annoyed sigh as she moved the phone so she wasn’t smothering it and angled it so her face took up the entire screen. “I’m a grown woman. I’ve seen plenty of naked guys before. This is not a big deal.”

Frankie let out a grumble of a complaint. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just take my seriously damaged ego and go get dressed now.” He grabbed his jeans off of a stack of boxes where he’d left them last night and went back into the bathroom.

Lucy let out a deep breath that sent her bangs flying upward. What she wouldn’t do for a vat of coffee and a return to simpler times when phone calls were voice only.

“He’s just a friend, Dad,” she said. “We had to stop earlier than expected because the car’s fuel pump went out, and it’s a really small town with one B and B that only had one room available.”

“Sorry for my reaction, it was just unexpected,” her dad said as he adjusted his bifocals and got his doctor face on. “Sex is a natural and beautiful part of life, not something to be ashamed about. I remember with your mother—”

“Dad!” she exclaimed, whipping her head around to make sure the bathroom door was still closed, which it thankfully was.

“Fine. Well, I look forward to meeting”—he made air quotes—“your ‘friend’ when he has clothes on tonight.”

She opened her mouth and shut it right away. There wasn’t any point in trying to set her dad straight. He was a die-hard romantic and always had been. At least she’d inherited her mom’s more cynical outlook on all things romance.

“I’ll text when we’re a half hour out,” she said. “Don’t wait for dinner, though.”

He nodded. “I won’t, but I will save you plenty of tofu.”

Yay—not.

“Bye, Dad.” She blew her father a kiss and hit end.

And to think waking up with one boob hanging out just might have been less embarrassing than that call.

…

The mechanic must have been an early riser, because by the time Frankie and Lucy had walked from the B and B—with him carrying all three pieces of luggage despite her protests—the fuel pump was fixed and Scarlett was parked in front of the shop, looking almost as good as the sight that had greeted him when he’d woken up this morning.

Rolling over and getting an eyeful of Lucy’s pink-nipple-tipped tit that had spilled out of her top while she’d slept had been a little like getting new equipment at the firehouse—awesome and awe-inspiring. At first, he was rendered immobile by the sight. Lucy’s boobs weren’t just amazing. They were lickable, and squeezable, and nibble-able, and so-many-more-dirty-things-able. Seriously, a man—specifically him—could spend a lot of time displaying the proper amount of devotion to Lucy’s tits. That wasn’t going to happen, though, and she deserved better than to have him getting an eyeful. Raising the sheet to cover her was the right thing to do. There was no way he wanted her to wake up and realize what had happened. So he’d yanked up the sheet, gotten into the shower, and blasted himself with ice-cold water.

“I need you to let me cover this,” Lucy said when they walked inside the mechanic’s shop.

He set their bags down near the counter and rang the bell to let the mechanic know they were there. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“Why not?” She narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms.

“Because it was only a matter of time with that fuel pump.” He would not check out her rack. He would not. His gaze went straight to her boobs. He quickly rubbed his eyes and refocused on the bell on the counter. “The fact that it happened on this drive means nothing.”

“You do know that letting me pay for the repairs your car needed during a road trip I asked you on won’t permanently shrivel your dick, right?”

The door connecting the garage bay to the office area opened up, and a wiry man in blue coveralls strode in with a folder in his hand.

“So I’m paying,” she said, plopping her giant purse onto the counter and unzipping it.

“Nope.” He put his hand on hers, stopping her. “You’re not.”

They silently eye-fought while the mechanic opened up the folder and slid the printed invoice across, all the while looking at him and Lucy as if they were sixteen shades of crazy. Frankie smacked his hand on it before she could. She shot him a dirty look but didn’t voice a protest. Sure, it was a small victory, but he was still relishing it an hour later when the small town wasn’t even a speck in Scarlett’s rearview mirror.

“So, what’s our cover story?” he asked as they sped through Illinois, needing to break up the monotony of the scenery and the excitement of his fantasies, which were making driving uncomfortable.