Page 12 of The Handy Men
Paige was stuffed. She was lying on their big leather couch, her feet resting on Jack's lap as she leaned against Dean’s shoulder.
"Pay up," she demanded, wiggling her toes. "I crushed you, and now you owe me a foot massage."
Jack grumbled good-naturedly, but he took off her shoes and tickled her instep.
"Stop," she said, rearing her foot back and kicking him gently in the leg. "Don't be a sore loser."
"He can't help it," Dean said, easing the recliner that was built into the sofa back so she toppled off his shoulder. Now, her head was in his lap. And so much for her resolution to keep tonight free of sexy thoughts.
"Relax," he said when she would have sat back up. "We've all been working our asses off. Let's just lay here and enjoy the moment."
Relax? That was easy for him to say. Jack was making goo-goo eyes at her over her feet, and she wanted to turn her cheek to feel the hard muscle of Dean's thigh against her lips. She forced herself to take deep, calming breaths. They couldn't read minds, so as long as she played this cool, they'd never have to know about her fantasies. Jack took his foot massages seriously and rubbed his thumb along the center of her foot and pulled her toes. Dean slung his around over her, just under her breasts. She closed her eyes against the yearning inside her.
Just enjoy the moment.
Then her cell phone rang. The ring tone was set to Carrie Underwood's “Before He Cheats.”
"Ignore it," she said. "Don't stop rubbing my feet. It's just Fred."
"You're so bossy," Jack said.
It stopped ringing and her voice mail notification came on.
"What does that asshole want?" Dean grumbled.
"Probably wondering why I haven't answered his emails. Or maybe he found out I sold the Long Island house last year without giving him a chance to buy it first. Or he's wondering if I received his wedding announcement."
"What?" Dean said at the same time Jack said, "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Yeah. So if one of you or both of you could be my date for the wedding, that would be freaking awesome."
They exchanged a look over her head and Paige immediately backtracked. "I'm just kidding, of course. I'm not going to go."
"We'll go with you," Dean said.
"Or one of us will," Jack countered. "But only if it's what you want to do. You don't owe that asshole anything."
"I know," Paige said. "It just seems like I'm a coward if I don't pay my respects to the happy couple."
"They didn't respect you when they were sneaking around a dirty no-tell motel."
"It was the Waldorf Astoria." She peered up at Dean.
"It's seen better days," he assured her, and rubbed her arm.
She could cut glass with her nipples. Fuck. How could she get out of here without rubbing against either of them like a cat in heat? This was such a mistake. She was like Pavlov's dog. She was lonely and needed a man. Or maybe she was jealous of Fred and Barbie. That had to be the reason she was so out of her mind with lust.
Paige sighed. Who was she kidding? The reason she was so horny had nothing to do with dull Fred and home wrecker Barbie. It was because she was cuddling with sexy, muscled men on their couch.
"You're not a coward," Jack said, squeezing her feet comfortingly. "You're the bravest person I know."
She scoffed. He hadn't seen her in a full blown anxiety attack. And yet, ever since she had come to Hamlet Island, she hadn't had one. What did Garth Brooks say? Heartaches were cured by the sea? Paige bet a lot of things were healed by the salt air and squishing sand beneath your toes.
"I mean it," Jack continued. "You left your marriage after that jerk off cheated on you."
"He didn't give me much choice."
"You sank everything you had into the bed and breakfast and are starting a new life. That’s pretty courageous," Dean chimed in.
