Free More Than Meets the Ink by Elle Aycart Page B

formalities. “Why do you think it is that you always get off and I don’t? I’m going to spontaneously combust any moment now.”
    She stifled a laugh, relieved to hear his voice. Happy actually. “Maybe because you always start with me?”
    “Well, those are the house rules, babe. Girls always get to come first, five or six times, as a matter of fact, so they’re shiny and juicy and ready.”
    Show-off. “Is that so?”
    “Yep. Girls’ Happy Hour nonstop, that’s me.”
    She snorted. “Well, then you’ve been cheating me, mister, orgasmwise, I mean.”
    His laughter rumbled through the phone. “Sorry, baby. The circumstances aren’t the best; they keep interrupting us.”
    “True,” she answered with a sigh. There was no way to have a hot vacation fling with half the continental US senior population running interference. At this rate, she had more chance of catching contagious dementia than getting laid anytime this century.
    “Your phone call scared me,” she admonished him. “Calls in the middle of the night aren’t a good sign.” The last two phone calls in the wee hours had come from the police; one informing her the restaurant was on fire, the other telling her Dad and Jonah were gone. Yep, phone calls in the middle of the night scared her. Badly.
    “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Who did you think it was?”
    She cleared her throat. “Well, I don’t know,” she lied. “Probably Elle calling from San Francisco. She went there to visit some friends while I came to stay with Mom. With Elle on the loose, you never know.”
    Silence.
    “I see.” By his tone, he hadn’t believed a word. “Were you sleeping?”
    “I was trying to, but Mom’s downstairs with two of her new friends, and they’re too loud. What time is it, by the way?”
    “Close to one a.m.,” James answered unapologetically. “Can’t sleep. I thought you could keep me company so I wouldn’t feel so miserable. After all, it’s your fault I can’t sleep.”
    “My fault? How do you figure that?”
    “Do you have any idea how long it takes to go through a nine-hole golf course with your dick so hard you could use it as a golf club?”
    She laughed. “No, I can’t say I do.”
    “It’s torture. And all I could think of was you. It didn’t help the situation at all. And then I come back, and you’re gone.”
    “I had to go to the vet with my mom. Amy’s nursing, so we had to go with the kittens. The golf might have been bad, but believe me, holding my mom while the stupid vet made the mistake of commenting on the kittens was no walk in the park either.”
    “That bad, uh?”
    “Yeah, that bad.” She sighed and left a long pause, not sure whether she wanted to talk about this or not. “You know, my mom had plans for her life; she was going to study archeology, uncover lost cities, pagan temples, forgotten kings’ tombs. Hell, she had a map of all the dig sites in the world she was going to organize; my aunt showed it to me. But she met my dad and got derailed. Got married, started a family, and in a way gave up her dreams. They had the restaurant to run and three kids and a household to care for—not too much spare time. I don’t think she regretted her choices; she was happy. But now she’s alone. Half her family is gone, and she’s running. That’s what all this moving to Florida is; she can’t stand to set a foot in Rosita’s.”
    “What exactly happened to your dad and brother?”
    She was giving him the short version. Details made her sick. “Drunk driver.”
    “I’m so sorry, princess.”
    Yeah, so was she, not that it changed a damned thing. “Thanks. Anyways, it was fun to spend time with my mom. It’s been too long since we did that, with me working my ass off in the restaurant all the time.”
    “Is everything okay with the restaurant? You systematically avoid talking about it; I get a vibe something’s wrong.”
    Ha, like she was going to unload her crappy life to her summer fling