Cup of Sugar (13 page)

Now he felt like a heel. A big one. “I’m sorry I let him run at you.” Twice, damn it. “I knew he’d never hurt you, he just likes to play ‘chicken.’ I would’ve kept him on the leash if I’d known.”

“No, I don’t want that. I just wanted you to understand why I do the things I do. Old ghosts, you know?”

Yeah, he did. “We all have them.” And he had the feeling Nia’s comments extended beyond her childhood run-in with a dog.

They walked the remainder of the block without talking. Not because he didn’t want to, he just didn’t know how to keep her in sharing mode. Tease her to lighten the mood? Ask her about her other ghosts, the ones that’d made her set limitations on who she’d date based on their address?

If they were seeing each other, officially, he’d push a little. If that didn’t work, he’d hold her hand or put his arm around her. Kiss her until she relaxed enough to feel safe and open up more.

This friends-only status was uncharted territory. Especially since he’d only suggested it “to keep his foot in the door,” as Peter had said. Conn’s only true female friend was his sister. He wanted Nia to feel comfortable with him, but not that kind of comfortable.

“Any plans for the weekend?” Her question broke the silence. Steered them onto easy, safe ground, but also robbed him of the opportunity to break through her defenses.

Damn.

“Yeah. My brother’s fresh out of another mangled relationship, so he wants to hang out Saturday. We’ll probably shoot some pool. Grab a few drinks at a club. The usual guy stuff.”

“Oh. I’m sure you’ll have a good time.”

“Always do. ‘Good time’ is Curtis’ middle name. How about you, any plans?”

“No,” she snapped. “Just work.”

Well, hell. Hard to believe she might have asked about his weekend plans because she wanted to make some with him, but maybe so. He would’ve asked her out if he’d thought for one second she’d have said yes instead of bolting. Guessing games sucked.

“Curtis and I’ll be at Blur by the time you get done Saturday night. Swing by and hang out. As friends.” There, invitation made, ass covered and rule abided by.

She tugged her cap lower and burrowed deeper inside her giant scarf. “I think I’ll pass on hanging out at a meat market with a couple of single guys.” All that fuzzy pink material didn’t hide the sour look on her face.

Laughing was definitely not the thing to do. He choked it down, but couldn’t stop the accompanying grin. “You’re jealous.”

She picked up the pace as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

“Hey.” He caught her arm, stopping her from hightailing it up her driveway. “I’m not going out to pick up.”

“Do or don’t. It’s not my business either way.”

“It could be.”

“Why would you want that?” No snarly tone this time. Just that soft voice he couldn’t get enough of. “I realize that having sex with you last weekend makes this hard to believe, but I’m not into casual hookups.”

“Did I say that’s what I wanted?”

“No, but…”

He dropped the leash and crossed his arms over his chest. “But?”

“But I’ve seen the assortment of women parading in and out of your house.”

“A parade of assorted women.” How awesome was this little turn of events? He knew Nia had been watching him while he was shirtless in the yard, or buck-fucking-naked in his bathroom. Apparently she’d been watching his front door too—though only when women knocked. “You know I’m a carpenter, right?”

“Oh god. Please tell me you’re not going to say something about all those women coming because of your wood.” One of those adorable squeaks popped out of her mouth.

This time, he couldn’t hold back the laugh. Or stop it once it’d started. “You said it, sweetheart, not me.” He caught her wrists and pulled her against him. “I do sideline carpentry jobs. I’m sure some of the women you’ve seen were dates, yes. I’m not a monk. But a lot of the people that come and go from my house are customers, picking up quotes or dropping off checks. They’re probably here five minutes, max.”

“Oh.”

He pushed the damn scarf out of the way for a better view of her pretty, blushing face. “Still think I’m a five-minute man-whore?”

She groaned and pressed her face against his chest.

An insistent bark rang out from the front porch.

“I’ve got to let Zeus in the house.” Conn tipped her chin up. “Come inside with me. Not for sex, though I promise it’d last a hell of a lot longer than five minutes.” He winked and finally, she smiled. “I’ve got a bottle of wine. Let’s order a pizza and relax. Talk. Just see where the night goes.”

“I…” A battle of emotions played on Nia’s face. The war between yes and no. “I can’t.”

But she wanted to. He saw it in her big, honest eyes. Heard it in the whisper that slipped through her slightly downturned lips. Pushing her now could go either way. Much as he wanted a yes, he wasn’t willing to risk a no.

He brushed his thumb over the lips he’d rather be kissing. Gave her scarf a gentle tug. “You up for another walk with us—maybe Sunday, or on your day off next week?”

Her smile returned, scaring the worry from her eyes. “I’d like that. Very much.”

A small yes, but a yes nonetheless. “Perfect.” He released her before the urge to kiss her got the best of him. “And if you change your mind about Saturday night, I’ll be at Blur,” he winked, “not picking anybody up.”

Chapter Nine

“Cute blonde at the bar has her eye on you, man.”

Conn practically got whiplash from turning so fast. Cute and blonde—check. Just not the cute blonde he wanted to see.

Things had ended on a positive note Thursday evening. Nia hadn’t changed her answer about showing up here after work, but he’d hoped she might. He’d had one eye on the entrance all night.

“All right, what gives?” Curtis asked when Conn ignored a flirty wave from the blonde at the bar. “That puts the total at four so far tonight. Two sexy brunettes, a smokin’ hot redhead and now, the cute blonde, all on the reject list.” He raised an eyebrow at Conn. “You’re seeing somebody.”

Yeah, every damn day and night—through the window.

No point in lying, it’d never fly with Curtis. The guy could sniff out bullshit from a hundred paces. He’d been that way since they were kids. Becoming a cop had honed the skill to razor sharpness.

“Tell me about the blonde who’s taken my wingman out of play.”

Conn laughed and took a swig of his beer. Of course Curtis had figured out that the woman on Conn’s mind was a blonde. With the scar on his cheek and tattoos poking out from every opening of his t-shirt, Curtis looked like a badass—but he was a cop, through and through.

“Thought you were off duty tonight.”

Curtis downed the last of his beer and pushed the empty to the edge of the table. “Perpetual observation mode. Can’t shut it down. So, do tell. Is she hot, and more importantly, does she have a hot sister?”

“She is and she does.”

“Shit, man. Why’re we sitting here? Fix me up then take off and go get some.”

“Wish I could. The sister lives in Toronto and the blonde…” How much to tell his brother? “Says she just wants to be friends.”

“Ouch.” Curtis’ husky laugh drew several sets of female eyes from the next table. He grinned at the ladies, turning them into a mass of giggles, then focused on Conn. “You hear that? That’s the sound of ‘forget the blonde
friend
and move on.’”

Conn checked out the ladies to his right. Three of them. Mid- to late-twenties, probably. All of them attractive. No blondes. The two with dark hair had their sights set on Curtis. Conn didn’t have to look at his brother to know Curtis was already calculating the odds of taking both women home tonight. If anybody could make that happen, Curtis could.

The third woman had wavy, sandy-brown hair and a smile just for Conn. An invitation to get off his ass and go over there. Buy her a drink, ask her to dance, maybe take her home.

He returned her smile. Waited for the hum of attraction to start. Nada. He did a slow, visual sweep of what he could see of the brunette’s body. Toned arms and nice breasts on display in a formfitting but not sleazy top. A pretty girl with a good body. Definitely his type—yet his cock wanted nothing to do with her. Neither did the rest of him.

Curtis was on his own tonight. Conn wasn’t ready to give up on his blonde yet. Now he needed a plan to convince her not to give up on him.

* * * * *

Did it snow this much every winter? Maybe this year’s endless accumulation was a special treat—Mother Nature’s way of welcoming Nia to the world of home ownership. She’d bounced around a lot since moving out of her parents’ house, but she’d always lived in apartments. To think, she used to grumble at having to brush the snow from her car before she could drive away. This owning-a-house gig was hard work.

Nia straightened and stretched. At least four inches had fallen overnight. Heavy snow. Great for snowballs and forts, horrible to shovel. She hadn’t been at it five minutes before the snowplow had gone by. In clearing her street, it’d left a thick bank of dirty chunks at the end of her driveway. She’d been slogging away for what felt like an eternity and had only reduced the evil snow berm by half. A little help from her hunky neighbor would be good right about now.

She snuck a look over her shoulder at Conn’s house. He had to be in there. Sometimes he worked overtime on weekends, but not today—his truck still wore a blanket of snow matching the one on her car.

Maybe he’d gone out to a bar again last night. Earlier in the week, she’d spied him talking to a guy who had to be his brother. She’d seen him before, several times since she’d moved in, but hadn’t put one plus one together about the brother thing. Now that she knew Conn had siblings, the connection was obvious. The two men weren’t identical by any stretch, but the resemblance was there.

Dear god, the eye candy they made. When she pictured Conn and Curtis hitting the club together, she could practically hear hundreds of pairs of panties simultaneously dropping. And she hated the imaginary sound.

It had followed her to work too. Her shift at the restaurant had seemed never-ending, thanks in no small part to thinking about Conn. Wondering what his Saturday night included, where he might be, whom he might be doing what with. Stuff she really had no business caring about.

His lack of presence today wasn’t helping. Even on weekends, he tended to be up and about pretty early. She’d usually see him milling about his kitchen. Or upstairs, having a shower.

So far this morning—no sign of him, slippery and naked or otherwise. Maybe he’d slept in. Until noon, though? Didn’t seem like his thing—unless he hadn’t slept alone. One of the panty-droppers she’d imagined might have tired him out. Might be keeping him busy this very second. After all, Nia had rejected his invitation of wine, pizza and ‘seeing where the night led’ last week. And as Conn had told her, he was no monk.

Once again, her crazy side was getting the best of her. He’d also told her he had no intention of picking up when he went out with his brother. Even after she’d gone psycho-jealous-chick on him—not one of her finer moments—he hadn’t laughed and walked away. He’d pulled her into his arms. Challenged her to step up and stake her claim.

She couldn’t do that. No matter how much the dreamer side of her wanted to. Oh, and she wanted to. On a scale of one to ten, her desire to stake a claim on Conn ranged about twelve to thirteen. Slightly higher on days ending with a Y.

She’d joined him on a dog walk three times now. Each time, Conn had been his funny, charming and friendly self. He flirted and teased, which she had to admit, she loved. He took her hand when they crossed snowbanks or icy patches. Yes, she loved that too. And they talked. Easily. At the end of the last two walks, he’d smiled, said goodbye and gone into his house. No more pulling her into his arms or sexy invitations. Conn seemed to have settled into his friend role.

So maybe she wasn’t crazy to think he had female company at the moment. Crazy was thinking it wouldn’t bother her when he resumed his single-guy ways right under her nosey nose. Especially knowing it could have been
her
inside his house, enjoying his very personal attention. Ugh.

Best thing she could do right now was clear this snow and go to work. Go anywhere. As quickly as possible.

She tucked the piece of hair that’d fallen over the bridge of her nose under the edge of her hat. She filled her lungs with fortifying, cold air and leaned on the shovel.
Dig, lift, toss. Dig, lift, toss.
Good god, this was hard.

She slumped over the handle. Forget it, she’d take the bus to the restaurant and grab a cab at the end of her shift. If nobody on the street took pity on her by tomorrow, she had the day off to deal with the remainder of the snowbank from hell.

She turned her back on the failed job and trudged up the driveway, dragging the shovel. A familiar
woof
pierced the quiet, winter air. Conn never allowed Zeus out front alone. Crap. She picked up the shovel and her pace. She’d wanted Conn’s help, but she really didn’t want to see who’d kept him inside this morning. Her churning stomach couldn’t handle that much detail.

“Incoming,” he called.

Zeus bounded alongside her, tongue dangling and tail wagging.

Whump.
A direct hit to the middle of her back. Seriously? Conn wanted her to see who’d replaced her as his bed warmer so much that he’d rifled a snowball at her? Fine. Let him make his point.

White-knuckling the shaft of the shovel, she turned. Just in time to catch a second snowball off the shoulder. And a grin intended for her eyes only.

She shouldn’t care about anything he did or didn’t do. Yet here she stood, smiling back at him, her day vaulting from a crappy five out of ten to a solid eight because he was alone.

He jammed his shovel into the heap she’d abandoned. “Don’t tell me you were giving up.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.”

His laugh did some digging of its own—a straight path to her heart. He nodded toward the end of her the driveway. “Hate to tell you this, but that Chevy is no match for this pile of snow.”