Page 32 of Hooked on Trouble

Sawyer squints at me like I’m nuts. “You sure you want to be asking me that question? I’m the guy who broke my girlfriend’s heart because I thought I was doing her a favor. Your instincts have got to be better than mine.”

“Solid point.”

“Actually, scratch that. You sending that dodge ball into Eve Hamilton’s face to get her attention was classic. Worst plan in the history of the world.”

I cough on my beer and pound my chest. “Seemed like a good idea at the time. And how was I supposed to know she wasn’t wearing her contacts?”

“I’m surprised she didn’t relocate your nuts. Should we make a wager, though? Bet that your tact still hovers around the sixteen-year-old mark?”

Sawyer can be a total asshole, but at least he gets me laughing. Loosens me up. “Last time you lost a bet, things didn’t work out so good for you.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Lily liked my smooth legs. And I only cried for the first half of the waxing.”

I’d rather have my leg hairs ripped out one by one than piss Raven off, but we’re overdue for a serious conversation. My ability to read people is usually fine-tuned. Comes with the job. With Raven, my emotions are too invested. Everything’s too clouded with the heat she stirs in my blood.

“One word of advice,” he adds. “If you do hook up with Raven, maybe hold back the ‘I love you’ crap until you’re sure, especially with these unknowns. You set speed records with the mushy stuff.”

I grunt, and we sip our beers and listen to George Jones sing about his broken heart while Kolton gets sucked into conversation with Doug. The ancient dude could talk the oxygen from the air. A commercial flashes on the silent TV behind the bar—an ad for a high-tech superglue. I immediately want Sawyer to challenge me on another bet. The possibilities with that glue are endless.

Kolton plunks a fresh pitcher on the table. “Apparently Doug’s alarm clock went off late this morning, and the paperboy’s been tossing his paper too deep on his lawn.”

“Good to know.” Sawyer juts his chin toward the crappy pool tables. “Should we rack ’em up?”

We both nod, and I stretch my legs. Smacking a bunch of balls around should help get my mind off Raven awhile. Stop me picturing us in a motel room, my rough hands charting a map over her inked skin. Her ankles digging into my shoulders. Our sweat-slicked bodies sliding. My deep thrusts.

The pool should help, but it doesn’t. I barely sink a goddamn shot.

Ten

Raven

I’ve been staring at the front door so long I’m surprised I haven’t burned two holes through the wood. All I’ve done the past hour is stand and stare, sit and stare, pace and…stare. My eyes sting from lack of blinking, the inside of my cheek raw from chewing on it. Nico should be here in thirty—I glance at my stove clock—scratch that, twenty-nine minutes, each nanosecond I wait making me twitchier. I haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours.

My phone buzzes from the countertop, and I nearly jump a mile. I stub my toe on nothing as I lunge for it, smacking my cell to the floor with the back of my hand. The thing tumbles in slow motion, my anxiety spiraling with it, before it lands on the mat by the sink. Diving to my knees, I grab it, but I don’t look at the text. For sure Nico is canceling. We had to delay his pickup time to one o’clock already. Something probably came up at work or with his family.

Not seeing him since that scorching car kiss has been challenging, but if we don’t look for Rose today, if I have to endure another minute or night or week waiting, I’m liable to tie my intestines in a knot.

I exhale at the sight of Shay’s name on the screen: Open your door.

I scramble to my feet and do as requested. She and Lily are climbing the stairs and push past me, arms full of thick catalogs. They drop them on my kitchen counter with a thud.

I scan the six gargantuan books. “To what do I owe this honor?”

Lily shakes out her wrists. “We stopped by a few stationery places and collected catalogs. Since we were passing by your place, Shay wanted to show you and wish you luck today and…” She trails off as Shay tosses a plastic bag at my head that I barely manage to catch. “I had nothing to do with this,” Lily adds.

Inside are three boxes of condoms. “They’re extra-large,” Shay says.

I cough out a laugh. “What? No banana for me to practice on?”

She grins. “They weren’t big enough.”

She doesn’t know the half of it. Although most parts of my sexy-Nico-Aspen night are blurry, the one thing that’s clear as day was waking up next to him and lifting the covers to take a peek. I immediately touched my jaw, wondering how I didn’t dislocate it, and realized there was no chance we’d had sex; I’d for sure have been tender and sore. Now I’m dying to know how it would feel to be joined to him, filled up with him, ridden by him.

That’s a lot of man to handle.

Lily can’t look me in the eyes. “Nico would die if he heard you talking like that.”

“More like he’d be smug as hell,” Shay says. “Besides, I’m just trying to focus on the fun part of this field trip. How are you holding up?”