Tease Me

He wrote her a note back, thanking her for the pie. He peeled the stickers from the cosmetics, so she wouldn’t know he’d bought them. He almost wanted to get up early enough to see her face when she saw it all. Too stupid. He put a spare house key on top of the note. She’d need that while she was here.

Finished, he headed down the hall, tiptoeing so as not to wake her. He paused outside her room.

What was she wearing? Was she naked? Wearing her daisy panties? He pictured her lying on her side, one leg bent, her cheek in the pillow, one perky nipple making a tiny dent in the sheet, ribs swelling and subsiding with her soft breaths.

He fought the urge to push open the door—already cracked a bit—just to peek, maybe find out if she smelled as sweet in sleep as she did awake, and backed away, toward his room.

And plowed straight into hard metal—his weight bench, he figured from the clanking. What the hell was it doing there?

“Ow. Damn. Shit.” He rubbed the back of his head, then the back of his thighs, which had whacked the kick bar.

“Jackson?” Heidi’s voice was husky with sleep and sharp with alarm. “Are you okay?” There she stood in her doorway, softly lit by his hula-girl nightlight wearing, of all things, his torn-up Hawaiian shirt.

He didn’t know which was worse—the goose egg forming on the back of his skull or the hard-on in his jeans at the sight of her in that pinned-together old shirt sagging to the middle of her thigh. Just plain begging to be ripped off. All he could say was, “Great pie.”

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