“This is our race, Beth, I’m convinced of it,” Tuesday told his aunt. “I’m betting another ten bucks.”
The way the event worked was that the church played old races on the giant screen at the front of the room. Guests bought individual horses for a small price and if the horse won, they won. There were also opportunities to bet on the placing of the horses and while you could walk away with some winnings, the point was to donate to the charity of your choice.
His aunt laughed. “I love your confidence. I’m in ten more, too.”
They both threw ten-dollar bills into the center of the table.
“Beth, you’ve gone wild tonight,” Johnny told her with a beaming grin.
Apparently everyone had. Diesel was feeling more than a little wild himself, though his intensity had nothing to do with the cash in his wallet. He was having a hard time resisting touching Tuesday, and at random moments, he found himself sliding his hand along her knee and even up into the deep recesses of her thighs. It was the pants. They were just outlining all her goods, he couldn’t help himself. It was her attitude, too, the way she flung her money down with zest and never hesitated.
She also never stopped his hand from climbing higher than was strictly appropriate.
There was pizza and beer, and while she packed away three slices of meat lover’s, Tuesday had stuck to soda, which Diesel liked to see. He figured that meant he was well and truly seeing Tuesday’s personality, not the drunken embellishment of it.
“Oh, damn, our chip bowl is empty.” Tuesday held it up for Diesel to see that it contained just a few lonely potato chip crumbs.
She had been steadily packing them away all night, and he was smart enough to know she wasn’t just pointing out an empty bowl for no apparent reason. “Would you like me to get some more?”
“Would you do that?” She beamed at him. “Why thank you, that’s so sweet.”
He should be more irritated at her obvious manipulation, but he was just amused. And horny. So very, very outrageously horny.
“I’ll go with you,” Johnny said, shoving up out of his own metal folding chair. “Beth, you need anything else, hon? Ellie? Jean?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks, dear.”
Diesel knew that Johnny wanted to talk to him, and they were barely three feet from the table before his uncle was leaning in conspiratorially. “I thought you didn’t want to date.”
“I never said that. I said if I wanted a date, I’d get my own.”
“You got yourself a good one, I’ll give you that. Tuesday is a pistol. Beautiful, clever, and sweet.”
Sweet he wasn’t so sure about. He’d definitely give her beautiful and clever. “That she is.”
“So you really didn’t knock boots with her?” His uncle looked disappointed.
“No, I told you she was loaded.”
“She’s not loaded tonight,” he remarked.
“Why are you so interested in my sex life?” Diesel asked in irritation. He had walked away from Tuesday and the table, yes, to get her more chips, but more to get away from the temptation she presented him. He didn’t really want to stand around and talk about the fact that he hadn’t had the opportunity to see Tuesday naked yet.
“Don’t get defensive.” Johnny threw his hands up as they approached the snack buffet table. “I’m just hinting that maybe if you want to finally get some action before your wanker gets moldy, tonight might be a good chance to go for it.”
The semi-erection Diesel had been battling all night finally disappeared. Somehow that description didn’t sound even remotely hot. “I can’t believe you just said wanker in the church basement. I feel like I’m twelve. And I don’t imagine Tuesday would be very comfortable around you if she realized you’re conspiring to get her in my bed.” He didn’t imagine any woman wanted to be the subject of that kind of gossip.
“Don’t be a prude. She wants you, too, it’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
“What makes you think that?” Diesel figured Johnny was right—that had been a hell of a kiss—but it didn’t hurt to have someone else notice their chemistry.
“Now you are twelve. How can you not notice the look on her face when she looks at you?”
“What, disgust? Irritation?”
“Red-hot lust, son. Nothing more, nothing less.” Johnny clapped him on the back. “Take advantage of it.”
Part of Diesel wanted to do just that. Hell, he’d been thinking of nothing else all night. But then part of him thought that was wrong. That just red-hot lust wasn’t right between him and Tuesday. He liked her, too. And he wasn’t sure why one had to be independent of the other, or if she liked him in any way beyond sex.
Which they hadn’t even had yet.
He was a mess.
“Race is starting. Grab those chips.”
Diesel looked back at the screen and saw that the horses were lined up on the film, ready to go. He grabbed more chips and some water and followed his uncle back to the table. Tuesday was on her feet, jumping up and down and cheering her pick on as the horses tore out of the gate and down the track. The movement did amazing things to her ass in those tight stretchy pants and no surprise, his erection was immediately back.
“Whoo!” she was screaming. “Come on, Jolly Roger! Go, Jolly Roger!”
Of course she picked the horse with the dumbest name ever.
“Give me a Jolly Roger!”
Diesel set the bowl of chips down in front of her. “That doesn’t sound right, sweetheart.”
She spared him a glance between bouncing up and down. “What? Don’t be dirty. What could a Jolly Roger possibly be?”
“I could think of a lot of things.” Starting with a blow job and ending with swabbing the deck. “All involving pirates and willing wenches.”
Her expression turned curious and slightly aroused. “Oh. Well, hold that thought for later. Right now I have a horse to cheer on.”
“You go at it.” He was just going to sit down, rest his knee, and watch her. It was an oddly satisfying occupation. Tuesday was always animated, always moving, her sleek dark hair sliding over her shoulders. She was a touchy-feely kind of person. She was always touching someone’s arm, or back, or leaning in close. At the moment, it was his aunt and uncle who were on the receiving end of her attentions, and Diesel was pleased that she seemed to like them, and vice versa.