Page 25 of Rafferty's Rules
‘Poor baby,’ I say, half laughing.
‘Poor starving baby. Come on,’ he says, pushing back his chair. ‘If you’re not hungry, you can watch me devour half a cow.’
‘But... ’
‘But what? You want to go trudging through the rain?’
‘Not really,’ I admit.
‘Then follow me. I’ll even throw in another one of my T-shirts for bed.’
‘Just for tonight. Thank you.’ Rafferty has been nothing but kind to me. Plus, he’s easy to be around. Not to mention easy on the eyes. And he certainly hasn’t given off any serial killer vibes.Lady killer, maybe.I’d be mad, not to mention soaking wet, to turn him down. ‘You really are too kind.’
‘Yeah, that’s me,’ he says, making his way to the end of the kitchen, opening a door to what looks like a laundry room before disappearing inside. He re-emerges with a green T-shirt that will cover me to the knee. The cotton is worn, the scent of detergent floating up as he drops it into my arms. ‘I reckon I could scrounge you up a pair of shorts, too, and then you can run your things through the wash.’
‘Good idea.’ I’m overdue for a shower, not that I’ll point this out within his hearing, plus clean panties for tomorrow would be preferable to none at all. ‘I’m not so poor that I can’t grab a few things tomorrow. You have Target, right?’
‘Tar-jay,’ he corrects in an awful Aussie-French hybrid accent.
‘Is that even the same store?’ My question bubbles with laughter.
‘Ours is way posher. It has to be—it’s got a French name and everything.’
‘Ha!’ I stand and follow him out to the hallway. ‘And just when was the last time you went shopping in Target?’
‘When I was about twelve.’
‘Um-hmm.’ With a look that speaks volumes, I follow his gorgeous butt up the stairs.
‘Are you looking at me arse?’ he drawls without turning around.
‘If you’re gonna flaunt it, I’m gonna stare.’
‘Funny, those were my sentiments last night.’
By this point, we’ve reached the first floor where he pauses. ‘You mean when I took my T-shirt off?’ I reply, deadpan. Stripping in brothels. What has my life become?
A tiny glimmer of a smile appears as he answers, ‘That was the least of it.’
‘I’m not asking!’
‘Good, because I’m not telling. And I only looked.’
‘I’d expect nothing more from a man of your calibre,’ I reply, reaching up to pat his cheek as I move past him.
‘I might’ve looked for a long time,’ he says as I reach the next set of stairs.
‘M-meat,’ I stammer. ‘You need to bring the meat.’ He quirks a solitary brow. I’m not sure if the motion is a reward because it looks so sinfully sexual, or a maybe a punishment for not keeping up my end of the flow of banter. ‘For the grill,’ I add, pointing at the French doors behind him.
‘For a split second, that wasn’t exactly where my mind went. Ah, well,’ he adds with a shrug, ‘see you outside when you’re ready.’
Chapter 7
RAFFERTY
I watch her slim legs dance up the stairs, her silky ponytail swinging behind her. She has an arse made for tight jeans. In fact, from her toes to the top of her head, she’s kind of perfect for me. Physically, I mean. So I’m a Neanderthal with a thing for petite women. Slight shoulders and tight butts, and tits that I can almost fit whole into my mouth.It’s just a shame I’m not doing the casual thing anymore. A shame for my dick, at least.
With a sigh, I turn to the doors leading to the deck as I wonder where she got the scar. Some kind of surgery. I’d guess heart surgery, not that I’m asking her for confirmation. She doesn’t strike me as vain or high maintenance, and she doesn’t seem at all concerned about me seeing it. Still, it’s her business, even if I do wonder. And so what if my mind hasn’t moved on from her tits; I can look without giving in to the desire to touch.
