Irresistible Bachelors: Books 1-5 by Landish, Lauren (classic literature books .TXT) 📗

taking a shuddering breath. “Sorry, Cass. I got a little struck for a moment. It’s been a while, and you do know how to render a man stupid.”

I can tell he’s trying to reset us back to the flirty lightness that is our usual mode of chatter. A little struck myself, I smile and step back. “All good. Listen, I know I was stupid over the weekend. It’s my bad. So come into the living room. I brought pizza and beer for dinner.” I start to walk out of the kitchen, noticing with a flutter that Caleb adjusts his crotch before following me. I’ve spread out a drop cloth I found in the entryway along with the six-pack and the two pizzas, Hawaiian for me and extra meat and cheese for him. “What do you think?”

Caleb’s voice still sounds gravelly. There’s still an intensity to it as he settles down, but he cracks a smile that leaves me fluttery inside. “Great. I’m starving. And about Friday night—”

“Forget it, let’s dig in,” I interrupt him, not willing to get into it. I don’t want to tell him how, while I was taken aback at first, over the weekend, I didn’t come to the house because I understood, and I felt like an idiot for flirting with the guy at Home Depot. If you could even call it that. When I think about it, there was nothing more that I wanted to do Friday night than spend the whole time with Caleb. I just don’t know how to say it. Instead, I pop the top on two beers, handing him one. “Cheers. Sam Adams to the rescue.”

We inhale the first few slices and couple of beers, relaxing as we talk about house stuff. He fills me in on everything, and I’m impressed with the amount of work he’s done in such a short time. I also like the way he wants my opinion on things, not just because it’s my house, but because he knows I have experience and ideas and he respects that. In return, when he tells me that I can’t salvage the electrical appliances to save money, I trust him. Even if he does make a joke about my being shocking enough that I don’t need actual electric sparks, too. We start to get a little buzzed, not impaired, but just enough to lower our inhibitions. After looking at me for a moment, Caleb sets his beer down and steers the conversation back toward us again.

“Hey, Cass, I’m really sorry about the other day. It just bugged me for some reason. You deserve a guy who’s gonna treat you right, be your Mr. Right, not some stand-in. But what you do is your business, and you’re right, I’m in no position to judge because I’m not a relationship guy either, at least not anymore. Been there, done that, got the Fuck You t-shirt, and ain’t doing that again. I can’t fault you for not wanting to deal with that either.”

Maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s just that we’ve spent almost an hour hanging out like we do, even if I still look at him and want to rip his clothes off. But I’ve never heard about this, and I feel more comfortable. I’m intrigued. “Apology accepted. You wanna talk about that t-shirt?”

Caleb snorts. Maybe he’s slightly buzzed too, shaking his head. “Fuck, no. I got screwed over pretty badly, so I’ll pass on a stroll down memory lane, chapter Wendy Reinhart. You wanna talk about why you want a Mr. Right Now instead of Mr. Right?”

Wendy Reinhart? The name rings a faint bell, but right now, I don’t care. Instead, I think about right now and what I want. Right. Now. “Nope,” I reply, emphasizing the word with a pop. I give him a look, scanning up and down his body, with a stop on his crotch. “That’s a really BIG issue.”

Caleb squirms a little, and I swear I see another big issue growing in the crotch of his jeans. “Uh, Earth to Cassie . . . my eyes are up here,” he says, waving in front of his crotch to stop my eye-fuck.

I must be more buzzed than I realize, because before I know it, I’m grinning and letting my mouth and libido do the talking. “I have an idea. Hear me out.”

“Do I want to hear it? Considering how you were just staring at my junk.”

That’s anything but junk, buddy. “You’re not a relationship guy. I’m not a relationship girl. We’re friends. And if we’re both honest, there’s some chemistry or we wouldn’t be able to joke around the way we do. Right?”

“Uh, yeah . . .” Caleb says, obviously uncertain about where this is going.

I bite my lip, giving him my cutest, most seductive look. “I’m just saying, instead of rolling the dice on some asshole we meet at Home Depot or wherever, we should take care of each other! It’s perfect. No strings attached, no commitment, no hard feelings. Just casual hookups and we can still be friends.”

Caleb shakes his head, then looks hard at his beer, probably trying to figure out whether he’s totally wasted or not. But he’s only on his second can, same as me. Finally, he looks back, wonder on his face. “Cass, I’m damn near sure I misheard, but . . . are you asking me to be your fuck buddy?”

I grin, nodding. “Yeah. Buddy. Fuck. Let’s be fuck buddies. You in? Pun intended.” I move closer, taking his beer out of his hands and climbing into his lap. My blouse is mostly dry now, but I still straddle his jeans, looking into his eyes as I press my body into his. “Caleb, you’re the one guy in the world I trust with this, but it’s your call. What do you say?”

For a heartstopping moment, I think he’s going to push me off his lap, play off what I’m saying as just another joke in the infinite line of teases