“A woman laughing at him gets him going, I guess. He’s got no shame. Or modesty, apparently. Down boy! What’s that? You want a treat? Be careful, boy. This one’s got teeth she’s not afraid to use.”
This sets her off again and I start laughing. My ballerina is right. This is better than coffee.
And I rarely say that about anything.
Pushing off the door, I sweep my arm inside. “Before you make us clean up the floor.”
She giggles her way in, cast awkwardly thunking along.
It shuts and I’m standing here, grinning at it.
Looks like I’m going to crack her code. Wouldn’t mind her happy like this all the time. Feels good to be the cause.
Heading to my room, I hear the bathroom door open, and glance back.
She smirks, “I had to see if the rear view was as good as your headlight.” The door quickly shuts.
Chuckling to myself, I get ready for my day. I’m not dumb enough to think anything more will happen now. We broke the ice. Now I’ve gotta let it melt.
1 This scene happens in Logan & Samantha’s book, where Marion and Troy first appear: Cocky Best Friend, Book 21 in Cocker Brothers
MARION
I ’m on the couch, reluctantly holding a slice of pizza he forced upon me. But that’s not what has me feeling flustered. Vulnerable, even.
I’m waiting for Troy to react to the story I just shared with him about how I broke my leg.
With just the crust left in his thick fingers, he’s staring at me like I’m a wounded bird. “That’s probably the worst story I’ve ever heard.”
I swallow and avert my eyes. His stare is too intense. It makes me self-conscious.
Why did Jack send this guy here? He said Troy was more my age. I do like him more than I wanted to.
Is this truly a set up?
I’m trying not to hope.
Or get too comfy.
Also, I can’t get my mind off of Jack, either. What is his motivation here? He felt the same attraction I feel—he admitted it! And there’s already love here, but it’s changed into something different now.
Or are we just friends?
What a confusing concept to get my head around—all of it!
Jack, Troy.
Troy, Jack!
Part of me is pissed off that he thinks I need setting up. The other part remains curious. Was his attraction really strong enough he had to toss this hot guy at me in order to save himself from touching me in ways he never has?
An alluring concept.
If I weren’t so damned sad every day, I’d be obsessed with the two of them. But as it is, I just want to be left alone almost all of the time. And you can really lose yourself in a good movie.
Troy won’t let that happen.
Not anymore.
Despite my hardest efforts to piss him off, he keeps taking care of me. It’s been a few days since I saw him naked, when he made me laugh so hard I almost lost my bladder. Since then he’s been considerate and kind of quiet, but insistent that I do something other than fade away.
I expected him to make a move on me — one I wouldn’t be ready for — but he didn’t. He cooked me delicious pasta at night, pancakes in the morning, and chatted me up about my past.
Reaching to touch my thigh, he shakes his handsome head. “Seriously, Marion, I’m sorry that happened to you.” The warmth through my cotton dress makes my blood quicken.
“It’s fine.” But it’s not fine, is it? The tears rushing to my eyes don’t think so. “Stop being so nice to me! You’re a stranger!”
“Marion…”
Wiping my eyes, I snap, “You are! And you’re so fucking kind. It’s annoying! What do you want from me? Jack wouldn’t be like this. He would tell me to get it together and stop being a cry-baby.”
Troy’s eyes fire up with jealousy. “Would you respond better to that treatment?”
My breath catches as I hold back sobs. “No!”
His envious frown relaxes. “You’re an enigma.”
“I’m complicated!”
“No shit.” Reaching for the tissue box that now lives on our coffee table, he hands it to me. “Here. So let me tell you a story from my youth to get your mind off of this. When I was a kid I had the worst acne. Junior high? I was a leper.”
Wiping my eyes, I smile, “No way. You have no scars.”
“Modern medicine I had to apply daily. I’ve got a couple here, though, look.” He leans in to show me. In so doing I get a whiff of his masculine scent. It’s not easy to sit back and nod that I see the evidence. He continues, “But the meds couldn’t get ahead of my hormones. I was so horny I went through five pair of socks a day.” He rakes his hair back. “My mom wondered why I had so much laundry.”
“What’d you tell her?”
“That my feet stunk from sports.”
“You played sports?”
“Baseball, soccer and football. Or if you’re in Europe, baseball, football and football.”
I laugh, balling up the tissue and setting it by my side on the cushion. Scratching under the rim of my cast I confess, “I was horny, too. I used to climb the poles that held up the swings because it made me have an orgasm.”
Troy’s lips part. “It did?”
“I’m a Scorpio,” I shrug.
His eyes are enflamed with interest, and he’s not going to let me shrug this one off. “Hold on. Hold on. Explain this whole climbing poles thing.”
I give him a saucy smile, even though my nose is probably as red as Rudolf’s. “Well, when you climb up, you’re rubbing yourself a little on the steel, and your legs are wrapped around it. And each time you push yourself up higher, you rub a little more. The first time I did it, I didn’t know why it felt so good. So I tried it again. And again.” Leaning in a bit, my voice gets softer. “The motion of your legs moving like that makes it so that these
