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Perfect. Just perfect.
I’d only thought that I’d gotten out from under that cloud of embarrassment.
Speaking of embarrassments, my life’s biggest regret walked through the front door with her husband in tow.
She looked so out of place here that it was comical.
“Speak of the devil,” Rowen said, spying what I’d just seen seconds before.
“We weren’t talking about the devil,” Katy said. “What…oh.”
Rachelle cased the room, and her eyes landed on us.
“Son of a bitch,” Logan muttered.
“What?” I asked.
“This woman is a fucking nut job,” Logan said. “I pulled her over for speeding a few weeks ago. She came in and filed a complaint about me to the department supervisor. Said I was ‘inappropriate’ with her.”
Katy snorted.
“Yeah, right. She’s delusional,” I said. “But, saying that, her going in there and filing a complaint is just like her. She’s not used to getting into trouble. She could always manage to weasel out of it because of her good looks or her money when I was dating her.”
“Why did you date her?” Katy asked curiously.
I looked over at Rachelle, who was still just as beautiful today as she was when we were in high school.
“I was a teenage boy,” I told them. “There are things that I don’t want to talk about, and why I was with Rachelle while I’m out to eat with my girlfriend’s family is one of them.”
There was silence at the table after that for all of two point five seconds, and then Derek said, “Hey, Dad. Did you know that Dax and Rowen are living next to each other?”
The little shit-stirrer.
“Actually, yes,” Luke said. “Now, what are we getting to eat?”
“Excuse me,” a soft, feminine voice said from beside me. “But would you mind signing my calendar?”
So it began. I guess the only reason they weren’t asking Derek was because it wasn’t his month yet. That, or they didn’t realize who he was.
Dax gave the table at large a long-suffering glance, then took the calendar.
After signing, she asked him for a picture.
He stood up, smiled, and looked downright constipated.
Something in which I gave him hell for after we left the restaurant.
“And when she asked you for a selfie, I thought you were going to self-combust,” I snickered.
Dax pulled his truck into the spot in front of his duplex and got out.
I started to bail out of my side, but before I’d even swung my legs around, he was there, pinning me in.
“You find my torture amusing?” he challenged, smoothing two rough hands up the length of my thighs.
I’d worn a dress to dinner.
I wasn’t sure why, really. I didn’t usually wear dresses period, but while I’d been unpacking, I’d seen the dress in the closet and thought, huh. That’s interesting.
What was interesting was that I’d bought it because it was so cute and so not me. Meaning that my family would approve because I was so anti-dress.
I hadn’t been planning on wearing it to dinner, but when the black slacks that I’d wanted to wear weren’t clean, I’d gone to my closet and looked at the dress for five minutes contemplating whether it was too sexy for a dinner out with your family.
I’d just decided on not wearing it when Dax had come into my bedroom.
He was dressed and ready to go.
Wearing a nice white Oxford shirt, faded blue jeans that were faded from use and not from the store, and a black hat with a white clover on the bill that said ‘Get Lucky.’
“You ready?” he asked me, raking his gaze over me in a long sweep.
I snorted and looked past my hips, which were the only thing covered at this point in time, and said, “Yep. All I need is shoes.”
He chuckled and walked up behind me, his gaze locking on my breasts in the mirror.
“You have anything that you can let these beautiful things go free?” he’d asked.
And that was why I’d worn the dress.
I’d also enjoyed the look on his face when he’d gotten a good look at the back neckline.
A neckline that was more of a waistline seeing as the line didn’t start until midway down my back.
“And this dress,” he said as he squeezed my hips right above where he’d stopped his hands. “I thought I was going to die when I saw you walk out in this earlier.”
I squirmed in my seat. “You didn’t even look affected,” I argued.
He scoffed. “You were looking at the wrong part of my anatomy, then. I was affected then, and I’m sure as fuck affected now.”
I let my gaze trail down to his affected area and grinned up at him.
His cock was straining the seam of his pants, and there was no way that he could be comfortable with his dick crammed in at that awkward angle.
“Did you know the majority of the male population tuck their cocks to the left side of their pants?” I wondered.
