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  • Writer's pictureAlluring Write Productions

Sex, Lies, & Techy Guys by Barbra Campbell

“What the hell was that, Lance?” Kyle says, grabbing me by the arm when we're alone in one of the rooms of the bed and breakfast.

“What?” I’m curious which infraction he’ll bring up first. I’ve crossed all kinds of lines for his orderly world. What are friends for?

His tone is hushed but tense. “Offering to help? Did you forget we’re guests, here on business?”

It doesn’t entirely surprise me that he focuses on that instead of me kissing Penny’s hand. I’m normally able to act civil but she’s divine in a dirty-sweet way. And that apron…it does something to me.

With Kyle fuming in front of me, I motion toward the door. “Did you see her? The way she looked at us?”

“I saw her.” His breath hitches, confirming his attraction. “That doesn't mean I'm going to play handyman when we have a deadline to get this data ready before the mediation. Don’t fuck up our big break into the private sector.”

It’s easy to think of Kyle as the buzzkill but I value his voice of reason. Kyle and I balance each other, probably a result of being friends since we were kids.

“Right. We have to focus. Do you care which room is our office and which is our bedroom?”

“This one is closer to the common area, so I'd say it’s the bedroom. Our office will be tucked back farther, more privacy and less noise if she has anyone over when we’re trying to work.”

The thought of her having anyone over sets me on edge. This week’s going to be wicked hard if she makes me this crazy every day. And night, because I know she’ll be in my dreams.

When Kyle doesn’t share my feigned enthusiasm over sorting the rooms out, I punch his shoulder. “Decision made.”

We move the furniture while Penny stays busy in the kitchen. I swear my dick threatens to get hard every time we step into the hallway and I catch sight of her.

Who wears aprons anymore? Not objecting. In fact, why wear anything else? I groan at myself.

Arranging our laptops and assorted office supplies on the makeshift desks, I say, “She's fucking hot, dude. How did we get so lucky?”

“Keep your dick in your pants. The only person we need to be worried about pleasing right now is our billionaire client who’s more than ready to refer us to wealthy friends. Remember?” Kyle emphasizes the last word.

“Yeah, got it.”

“Great. So where did we leave off? Did you finish compiling that chain of IP addresses the hacker used?”

“Almost. I'm going to get a bite to eat first.”

Kyle slams a fist on his desk, rattling the pens he'd set out. “You're looking for a goddamn excuse to go talk to her. Do not kiss her again.”

“Don’t worry, I’m actually hungry.”

“Fine, but make it quick and don't sign us up for any more home renovations or car repair or anything else.”

“You need to get laid,” I mumble.

“Not more than we need to satisfy our client.” He doesn’t flat-out deny it, which means he must have it as bad for Penny as I do.

That’s a problem. Rather than sorting out bro code and wondering who Penny would choose, I keep it light.

“I beg to differ.”

“About what?”

“Our client isn’t the only one we could satisfy.” I drop the bomb and leave the room.

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