Chapter Three
What a jackass! I thought to myself as I watched Mace walk himself across the road to Trip's. I was left standing on shaky legs, my nipples strained against the thin cotton of my tank while I stared after him like some lust-sick fool. How dare he touch me and make a comment like that only to walk away like it didn't affect his ass in the least! Annoyed at his cocky attitude, I decided two could play at the game he started. If he wanted me quivering at his feet, then he'd be in for one hell of a wakeup call.
Scarlett Garcia fell at the feet of no gloriously delicious man!
I turned and stomped toward my house in my “sexy as fuck” boots. I needed a nice hot shower. While I was in there, my mind was forming a plan to make him wish he’d never crossed me. Payback was going to be so sweet and it would be served with an extra side of sexy. One last eye sweep of the floor length mirror, and I’d declared myself ready to turn heads, one head in particular.
Figuring I needed something sexy as sin to get his attention but not trashy, I’d worn my favorite blood-red Mary Jane peep toe pumps so my black toenails with tiny cherries could be seen. a simple skintight sleek, black pencil skirt that accentuated my hips and ass, ending just above my knees, teamed with a silk red blouse which draped in front, giving a tiny hint of cleavage, tied with a string across my shoulder blades and another across my lower back. It barely covered my sides, leaving the rest of my back completely bare showcasing my favorite tattoo.
Happy with my image, I slowly slipped on a pair of red see-through, barely-there panties. My finishing touch that always helped to make me feel as sexy as hell. With a smile on my face, I strutted out the front door, confident with the knowledge Mace had no idea Trip had invited me to his welcome home party.
I had known Mace’s family, with the exception of Mace himself, for almost three years. I’d become fast friends with Trip after a blind date gone wrong. His mother, Marcy, was so sweet and caring; I adored her. Marcy was the mother I wished I’d had growing up rather than the stone-cold selfish woman I was given. She was everything I imagined a real mother would be, open and kind, always with a loving word to say; chastised her children when they needed it, even though they were grown, but always did it with humor and a warmth that left no doubt she loved them regardless. She was a short-framed round woman with greying hair and a soft smile. Since I’d know the family, I had been taken in as a sort of surrogate child, so when I stepped out of line, Marcy had no qualms telling me off like I was one of her own. She even insisted I call her Mom. I had been told every friend of the kids growing up had been coerced to do the same.
Trip answered the door. He looked me up and down with a knowing smirk and a head shake. Leaning forward for a one-armed hug, he quietly asked, “Scar, are you trying to kill him from loss of blood to the brain?”
“Now why would you think that?” I smiled and batted my eyelashes. Trip never missed a beat; he knew exactly what I was up to.
“God help the fucking lot of us,” he mumbled, chuckling as he walked off.
I made my way through the house and was met with the usual boisterous noise that came from the Torres family being in one house together; I stopped to kiss Milla on the cheek quickly, before being engulfed in a big soft hug from Marcy. Pulling back, I heard the rumble of a voice from somewhere behind me. “Scarlett? I didn't expect you to be here.”
His voice instantly sent a shiver running through me. I briefly wondered how a man’s voice could be so sinfully sexy, and sound so damn erotic.
I turned, looked up and was met with Mace's beautiful blue eyes flashing with mild surprise, followed by desire as he did a slow, blatant body scan. He was dressed much like he had been earlier in the day, except the jeans he wore now were well-worn and fitted to his hips and legs like they were custom made. His t-shirt had been swapped for a black long-sleeved button-down, rolled up to the middle of his thick, sinewy forearms.
I smirked, “Mace, how’s your tattoo feeling?”
To my surprise, he graced me with a thousand-watt, panty-dropping smile, the first I had seen from him, making me swoon slightly before I corrected myself.
Traitorous body!
Needing a few moments, I turned back and asked, “What do you want me to do in the kitchen, Mom?”
Marcy looked from Mace and back to me again, eyes twinkling slightly with a mischievous look before she spoke. “Dip, sweetheart. You make it better than anyone else.” She patted me on the backside as I walked past, calling out to Mace who was still watching me. “Mace, get some drinks will you, honey?”
On the way to the kitchen, I had to squeeze past Mace's bulky frame which was partially blocking the doorway. As I did, my ass gently brushed his jean-covered crotch, sending a tingle down my spine and butterflies fluttering in my belly. I’d briefly noted his intake of breath as I approached the long marble countertop which was covered in an array of dishes.
A little too pleased with myself, I was wiping down the counter top when Haven arrived. I could hear her loudly greeting the family, laughing.
Conversation was loud as I helped with the food and drinks. Seeing the perfect opportunity to mess with him, I leaned over Mace to put a big dish of potatoes on the large dining-room table when he knocked his water glass. With unbelievably quick reflexes, he righted it before it spilled. I put a hand to his enormous shoulder, leaned in close and whispered, “Careful, Mace, you don’t wanna be getting me all wet now do you?” The brazen vixen in me whooped at the opportunity to talk dirty. Score 1 to me!