The Expert’s Guide to Driving a Man Wild (Bluebonnet #3)(72)
Author: Jessica Clare

“Actually, the stool’s for Miranda.” Elise hurried forward and moved it out of the way. “If you’re up for a slightly racier shot, I have a few ideas to go with your waitress costume.”

On the far side of the room, Beth Ann squirted more hairspray over Miranda’s curls and laughed. “Up for a slightly racier shot? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Brenna rubbed her hands gleefully. “I am so ready for something dirty. Bring it on.”

“Well, these are pinups,” Elise told her, bustling to her prop box on the other side of the room. She tore open some sort of plastic package, the rustling filling the room. “The idea is fun and naughtiness more than blatant dirt.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Brenna. “Not that you couldn’t make that work.”

“You know I could,” Brenna said, and flexed her arm, grinning.

She was glad Elise had stayed in Bluebonnet. The girl had seemed so lonely when she’d arrived. But since undertaking her new business scheme with Beth Ann, she’d been blossoming out of her remote shell. Now when the girls got together for drinks and girl chat, Elise was usually with them. They made a fun foursome, and Elise’s quiet personality was a good foil to Brenna’s brashness—not that Elise didn’t occasionally zing them with a mouthy quip of her own.

She fit right in, Brenna thought. And Grant seemed to like having his sister around, which was nice, too. Elise did spend a lot of time at the ranch lately, but that was to be expected, Brenna supposed. She just hoped Elise didn’t accompany her back to the ranch today, because she was feeling mighty amorous in her cute spanky panties, and the guys were all out on runs with clients . . . which meant that she and Grant would have the lodge entirely to themselves.

And they hadn’t quite christened the shed yet. The kitchen, yes. Grant’s desk, yes. Her desk, oh yes. The sofa? Yep. But not the shed. Seemed a crime to not include it.

“All right,” Elise said, brandishing a long, thin stick at her. A shish kebab skewer. “I’m going to need you to hold this.”

Brenna frowned at it, curious. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

Elise stuck a hot dog on the end of the skewer. “Bend over and pretend to eat that.”

Brenna eyed it, then Elise. “You dirty, dirty girl. I like the way you think.” She winked and leaned over, flipping her skirt up so her panties were on full display, and pretended like she was about to take a bite out of the hot dog. In the background, she could hear Miranda giggling.

“Perfect,” Elise said, and put out a hand. “Now hold that pose.”

“And don’t deep throat it,” Miranda called out helpfully. “It’s not Grant.”

“Of course not,” Brenna called back. “It’s much too tiny. Grant’s got a lot more meat on his hot dog.”

Behind the camera, Elise made a gagging sound.

Brenna just grinned and slid her tongue out as if to lick the frank poised against her lips.

• • •

Brenna pulled Grant’s car up to the main lodge and pulled the bag of hot dogs out of the seat. Water was leaking from the opened package, and she winced at the sight of the droplets on the leather. She looked around for a napkin, didn’t find one, and shrugged and headed out of the car. She’d be back to wipe it later, or Grant’d be wondering why his lovely Audi smelled like wieners. A hot dog cookout for dinner sounded nice, though, so she’d taken the extras home.

She was still dressed in the pinup girl outfit, though most of her thick lipstick was gone. They’d gotten some fun shots, and Elise promised to email her some later after she’d touched them up. Brenna wanted a print of one of the hot dog ones so she could frame it and put it on Grant’s desk to replace the picture of Heather that had been permanently retired. Thinking of Grant put a bit of a bounce in her step as she imagined what he’d think of her frilly panties. And how he’d strip them off her.

When she got into the lodge, she looked around in surprise. Grant wasn’t at his normal seat, and it was during office hours. “Grant?” she called out, curious.

His head popped up over the couch. “You’re home?” His gaze went to her outfit and hair. “Holy shit.”

She grinned and gave her skirt a saucy little flick. “You like?”

“Definitely.” He looked extremely appreciative, his gaze moving up and down over her body. “Damn. I can’t wait to see those pictures.” He seemed momentarily distracted, then shook his head. “I didn’t know you were coming home so early, though—”

She started forward, amused. “Were you taking a nap? Because I can think of a few other uses for that couch right about now—”

A high-pitched yap interrupted her.

Brenna blinked in surprise, stopping short. “What was that?”

Grant hefted a small, squirming beige bundle into the air. “Your surprise.”

“My surprise?” She started forward again, staring at the squirming puppy in Grant’s hands. Short, fawn-colored fur covered a wriggling sausage body and tiny paws. Two bug eyes stared out in opposite directions from a wrinkly black muzzle. It was hideous. It was so adorable it made her want to pinch it. “You . . . got me a puppy? Why?”

He got to his feet and headed toward her. When he got to her side, he pushed the tiny puppy into her hands. It immediately began to lick her chin, then her fingers. “Because I remembered in the video that you showed me that you said you always wanted a dog. And I thought it might be a good way for you to get your feet wet with the whole ‘being tied down’ thing. This dog’s small enough that you can take him anywhere.”

Tears burned her eyes. He’d remembered that she’d said that? She hadn’t even remembered it. The puppy continued to lick her, and Brenna pulled it away from her to get a good look at it, and laughed through her tears. “It’s really damn ugly.”

“It’s a pug,” he told her, pleased at her reaction. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him as she snuggled the puppy against her again. “They’re supposed to be very interesting personalities.”

“His eyes aren’t even facing the same direction,” she blubbered happily, unable to stop crying. Luckily, the puppy was there to lick away her tears. “He looks like Gollum from Lord of the Rings.”

Grant laughed. “Sounds like as good a name as any.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek, and then pulled away. “Why do you smell like hot dogs?”