Free A Perfect Mess by Zoe Dawson Page A

to get them dressed and in ice. Make yourself at home. There’s water, lemonade, and sweet tea in the fridge.”
    “I can’t let you do all the work. I helped you skewer the poor things so they could sacrifice their delicious legs to our stomachs. The least I can do is help.”
    I looked at her wryly. “This is a pretty messy business. Guts and stuff.”
    “Hey, I know you’re not getting sexist on me. I loved biology. Who do you think dissected the frogs?”
    “Most girls aren’t keen on skinnin’frogs, sugar. You’re not even eatin’ ’em.”
    She gave me a sidelong glance. “I might change my mind about that, depending on what else you’re having.”
    “Crayfish.”
    She closed her eyes and I heard her stomach growl.
    “If you’re having boudin , that’ll seal the deal.”
    “Absolutely,” I said. So, the girl loved the Cajun sausage. Boudin hadn’t been on the menu, but it was now. “Okay, let’s go.” I was ecstatic. I felt like a ten year old whose girlfriend was coming to his birthday party.
    It took us about thirty minutes to sever the legs and skin them. Once that was done, we washed our hands at the sink. “You got frog guts all over you.”
    She shrugged, pulling off the white shirt to reveal a gray cotton tank top. She balled it up and stuffed it in her bag. “So do you.”
    “Ugh. Let me take care of that.” I pulled my t-shirt over my head and chucked it into the laundry room behind me. “Do you want something to drink?”
    When she didn’t answer, I looked back at her. She just stood there. She had a shell-shocked expression on her face. Then it dawned on me. She couldn’t speak because she was struck dumb by my bare back and chest. I took in a quick breath.
    She was so damned beautiful, even when she’d been wearing her frog-gut-smeared shirt. Beautiful in a tousled, repressed, coming-undone sort of way, and up close, in the bright light of my kitchen, her red hair gleaming, her green eyes glazed, she looked exotic.
    Every adolescent wish, dream and hope about Aubree and her mouth spiraled down to my dick. But I knew better than to kiss her. So I opened the fridge and grabbed the closest pitcher, the sweet tea. Opening the cupboard, I grabbed two glasses and filled them. I felt her breath on my shoulder and I swallowed. I turned and handed her one of the glasses.
    “Thanks,” she said breathlessly. She wasn’t making this any easier. “And thank you for bringing me out here tonight.” She took a sip of her tea. “It helped to get my mind off of, you know, the, ah, text.”
    I noticed she hadn’t moved back, even though I’d given her the glass. Her blush was deepening, and she was having a hard time holding my gaze. Despite her best attempts, her attention kept straying to my chest and my abs, and down the length of my arms.
    “We should probably get going with cleaning up the frog guts and all.”
    She took a gulp of her tea and set it down. Her eyes honed to a spot on the right side of my face. “Talk about frog guts. You have some on your…” she reached out and clasped the back of my neck presumably to hold me still. She froze me in place, one of those hot freezes, where the sensation of touch, no matter where it started, somehow ended up jolting my balls. Then she brushed her thumb along my cheekbone. Fuck .
    I didn’t need this.
    Her eyes were on my mouth again, and I’m not some freaking saint, here. That was it. I was toast. I couldn’t go the next five minutes without kissing her. With a soft groan of surrender, I covered her mouth ever so gently. My hands almost circled her tiny waist. I wanted to savor her, drink her in like a fragrant morning air. Kissing her lit up every cell in my body like she was a live wire.
    I couldn’t let go of her. I knew I should.
    “Should we … I—you, umm…” she said breathlessly, her voice sighing against my mouth as she leaned back far enough to run her thumb across my bottom lip. Her heart pounded against my chest