The Bad Boy of Bluebonnet(21)

When it came time for him to leave, he did so, reluctantly. “I need to get dressed. Got an appointment I need to be heading off to.”

“Of course,” she said, and began to immediately prepare him a meal and a thermos of coffee.

He protested. “You don’t have to do that—“

She waved off his concerns. “It’s the least I can do since you fixed my problem for me.”

“Oversensitivity?”

Her face flushed a bright red. “The possums.”

Jericho found himself grinning at her. “That, too.”

She held the lunch out to him, and when he reached to take it, she snatched it back. “Before you get all weird on me, I just want you to know that what happened between us didn’t mean anything. Like I said, I’m not looking for another husband. We can be friends…with benefits. But I’m not looking for more, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed. He didn’t know whether to be amused at Emily’s firm declarations that she didn’t want a relationship with him or a little stung by it. He decided to go with amused. “So can I see you again?”

Her smile widened. “Absolutely.”

And she sent him on his way with a kiss that made him regret having appointments after all.

Over the next few weeks, Emily and Jericho became very ‘close’ friends…with lots of benefits.

Okay, so they were screwing. That was the impolite way to put it, Emily figured, but it was apt.

They weren’t really dating. Not really. Sure, they had dinner together and worked on projects, and she hired him to fix a leaky faucet. When he rented a DVD he’d swing by and ask if she wanted to see it, and they’d end up on her couch together.

And sometimes on the floor together. And in the shower together.

It was fine, really. It was all perfectly casual. No one was pressuring anyone, and that was how Emily liked it. She liked knowing that if she wanted to have some (filthy, nasty, explosive) sex, Jericho was just a phone call away. He knew if he needed a sandwich or a buddy to hang out with, Emily was there for him. Emily wasn’t sure what to call their relationship.

‘Fun’ was the word that came to mind, though.

She didn’t know if they were exclusive. She doubted it. Exclusive was one of those words you tossed around when you were in a ‘real’ relationship and Emily wasn’t sure she was ready for one of those. She was exclusive purely because, well, she wasn’t interested in sleeping with anyone else. Exactly how Jericho felt, she had no idea. But she didn’t want to push things because frankly, she wasn’t too good at being settled down.

Evidence? Her first marriage, when her husband had to choose between his young, reasonably attractive wife and a bunch of dead ghosts, and he’d chosen the ghosts. So yeah, she was perfectly happy with holding Jericho at arms’ length and then just making out like bunnies when it was convenient for their schedules.

Making out like bunnies still had its charm.

The Peppermint House was rather quiet lately. The biggest excitement she’d had was when one of Jericho’s friends showed up with a bunch of trapping cages to get rid of her possum problem. That had been an interesting day, but things were taken care of and she paid for new insulation to be blown since the old insulation was covered in poop.

And since the possums had been removed from her attic (nine nests! nine!), things had gotten quiet. Jericho had fixed the wiring for the lighting and it no longer flickered. Between that and the possums now gone, her home felt normal.

No ghosts…but also no tenants. Her last live in, Elise Markham, had moved in with none other than Jericho’s brother, the aptly named Rome, who was even more pierced and tatted (if it was to be believed) than her tall, sexy Jericho was. Elise seemed deliriously happy, and if it meant that Emily had a lot of nights in which she could just curl up on the couch with Jericho, then it wasn’t so bad not having any tenants at the moment.

She’d just bake for the police and fire stations, and give the extras to Jericho and his work buddies, who had taken to showing up for lunches. She didn’t mind – the more mouths to feed, the happier she was. She loved to show off her baking skills, and the plumbers, handymen, and contractors that had started coming around were an extremely appreciative audience…as was Jericho. She still got flushed over the looks he gave her when he bit into an oatmeal raisin cookie.

Really, life was pretty amazing at the moment. Emily was happy. She had no ghosts, a sexy man that gave her incredible orgasms, and enough money in the bank to fiddle around with more improvements for the Peppermint House. She couldn’t complain.

Which meant shit was bound to hit the fan at some point, right?