Fool's Gold (A sexy funny mystery/romance, Cottonmouth Book 2) by Jennifer Skully

her off more. “What have you got
in there? Porno magazines? Is that what you do all night in your
stupid trailer?” Is that what you do when you should be spending
time with me, making love, real love, with me?
    “No. It’s...uh...it’s...uh...”
    “Cat got your tongue?” She waved the cleaver,
so angry she could smack him upside the head with the flat
edge.
    He eased around her. She turned with each
step, making sure he got the full effect of each eye-stabbing look
she threw at him.
    He pointed. “Trailer. Talk later.” One step,
then two, closer to the back door.
    “Yeah, the trailer. Well, you can sleep out
there, for all I care.” Her temper rose with every word, as if she
couldn’t keep them inside any longer. “In fact, you can just drop
dead, do you hear me?” Finally she was shouting at him, and it felt
so good. “Drop dead, Carl!”
    He dashed through the back door at that last
soul-freeing bellow. Damn him. Moments later, she heard the trailer
door bang. She could even imagine the lock slamming home. Locking
her out.
    Then her own words came back to haunt her.
The fury whooshed out of her as quickly as it had come. She sagged
against the counter, deflated.
    Tyler would kill her. She’d handled it wrong.
She’d ruined their evening as surely as Carl’s tardiness ruined
their dinner.
    What was wrong with her? What was wrong with them ? She folded her arms on the counter and, still
clutching the cleaver in her hand, laid her head down.
    She didn’t have energy left to cry.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Brax took his movie, but left the licorice.
Simone sat in her rocker on the porch chewing thoughtfully on
another piece as she stared off in the direction his truck had
disappeared.
    He hadn’t kissed her goodnight. He’d touched
her face, run his thumb over her bottom lip, then held her close
for five seconds. It was too long and nowhere near long enough. He
hadn’t kissed her, but he’d wanted to. He’d been hard against her,
and she knew he must have felt her beaded nipples against his
chest.
    The evening had been such exquisite torture.
She’d never met a man who understood how incredibly erotic the
whole tease thing was. Men weren’t built to withstand teasing. They
had a name for women who did that, and it wasn’t pleasant. The male
gender didn’t get how good it could be.
    But Brax did.
    He hadn’t told her that teasing was fine if
she slept with him in the end. Part of the game, the part that made
it even hotter, was not knowing. Even she didn’t know if
they would. Until this afternoon, the answer would have been a
definite no. Now, she wasn’t so sure. It was almost worth the
possibility of embarrassment and rejection to see how good it could
be. Dangerous, though. She might lose more than her control.
    After this evening, she liked the man, not
just his hunky body or his cheeky grin. He played her weird
games—she admitted they were weird—he laughed at his mistakes, and
he was honest-to-goodness sweet to Maggie. What kid brother cared
if he scarred his sister for life? That’s what kid brothers hoped to do.
    Not that Simone had firsthand knowledge. No
kid brothers, only her sister, Jackie. Jackie hadn’t pulled a prank
since...well, never. Ariana Chandler didn’t tolerate pranks from
little beauty pageant queens, particularly not her daughters.
    Sometimes Simone wished Jackie had played a joke, even if it was on her only sister. Jackie didn’t do
naughty tricks, she didn’t lie, and she always followed the
lifesaving creed: If you can’t say something nice, don’t say
anything at al l. Most of the time, Jackie didn’t say
anything, especially around their mother.
    She had the sudden urge to call her little
sister. It wasn’t terribly late, if Jackie was home and not
attending some elaborate gala. She dialed Jackie’s private
line.
    “Hello?” Her sister always answered the phone
tentatively, as if she were sure of neither her caller nor
herself.
    “Thanks for the