Page 8 of Playing With Forever

“I knew this,” Josie returned.

Lindy had more to say but suddenly decided against it and instead said, “If you’ll excuse me, I have to use the restroom.”

I’d been a single dad since my girl was seven, I was well-versed in Lindy’s tells. She didn’t have to use the restroom.

She was scheming.

I waited until Lindy was out of earshot before I turned to Josie. I didn’t bother hiding my irritation when I asked, “What the fuck?”

At least Josie had the good sense not to dodge or prevaricate when she answered, “I needed to get my car so I could get to work.”

“Yeah? You think maybe to wake me up so I could take you to your car?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m capable of retrieving my car without help, Evan.”

It took more effort than it should’ve to draw up the patience needed to field that asinine statement.

“That’s not the point, Josie. You snuck out of my bed. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not that guy.”

“What guy?”

“The kind who brings a woman back to his house, spends hours memorizing every inch of her body, gets her off, gets himself off, enjoys the fuck out of both those, falls asleep after she wears him the fuck out, only to wake up and find that woman gone, knowing she had to find her own way home. But more, she had to do that before five in the morning when it’s still dark out. I’m not that guy—the one who gets off and sends a woman motoring. But this morning, that’s exactly who you made me. So, I’ll ask you again, what the fuck?”

A deep blush started at her chest and was working its way up her throat. I didn’t want to like the way her pale skin pinkened, and I really didn’t want my cock to perk up and take notice, but damn if I could stop either.

“You’re not that guy,” she told me, losing the antagonism in her tone. “That wasn’t my intention.”

Josie’s gaze went over my shoulder, panic infused, meaning Lindy was on her way back.

I leaned close and told her, “In your rush to leave, you forgot your bra, sweetcheeks.”

Her beautiful blue eyes flared.

I smiled and leaned back.

Our burgers were served.

Josie and Lindy prattled on about a whole slew of topics. I only participated when asked a direct question. Not that the two of them needed my input.

And if the night wasn’t fucked already, after I paid the bill, Josie and Lindy exchanged numbers.

Just to note, I was correct, Josie’s superior ass looked amazing in boot-cut jeans. Though I knew from experience it looked better out of her jeans.

CHAPTER THREE

The struggle was real.

It had been four days since I’d had dinner with Evan and Lindy. Four long days where I’d had to fight the urge to look up Evan’s number and call him. Sunday night, we hadn’t exchanged numbers, but I had access to the volunteer forms and could easily get his. I hadn’t done this.

Of course, retrieving his number from the center’s database would’ve been unethical.

That was my excuse, and I was sticking to it. Admitting that I hadn’t looked it up for the same reasons I’d snuck out of his house would mean I’d have to face an ugly truth about myself. And frankly, I wasn’t prepared to do that. I’d faced enough ugly truths over the years.

Now, my life was mine. I no longer had to self-reflect or explain myself or my actions (or my insecurities) to anyone.