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A couple hours later, with the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon, I still didn’t have any answers on what I should do about Rust. The girls and I toweled off and headed inside, where Minka was elated to rejoin the party. We ordered takeout and decided to watch the Sin game in the man cave—or as we decided to call it, the girl grotto.
The Sin were facing the LA Reign tonight. During the pre-game show, the TV announcers reported,“Keep your eye out for veteran defenseman, Rust Walker, who is back in the lineup tonight for the Vegas Sin.”
“He’s playing tonight!” I cheered.
With Rust in the lineup, the girls and I had all the excuse we needed to make some cocktails at Rust’s bar. It was the first hockey game April and Farrah had ever watched in their lives, but by the end of it, I’m pretty sure they were going to be fans for life.
“That wasawesome!” April said.
“I can’t believe your man scored the winning goal!” Farrah said.
I wasn’t foolish enough to believe Rust was “my” man. But I couldn’t deny howgoodit felt when Farrah called him that.
Regardless, with the game over, the girls left for home. I sat on the couch, nursing the rest of my cocktail.
Rust.
The game had been over for an hour or two, yet I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I couldn’t stop smiling. I wanted to reach out and say something. I picked up my phone and texted him. “Great game!!! You were AWESOME!!!”
A few minutes later, he replied.
“Thanks. How was Minka today?”
“Good! I took her on a big walk today. She’s all tuckered out now. Look at this sleepy puppy.”
I sent Rust a photo of Minka passed out next to me on the couch, her head resting on my feet.
A moment later, he tapped the thumbs-up button.“So cute. Got any more?”
I sent him another photo of Minka from today, and another, and another. One by one, Rust gave each photo a thumbs-up.
I scrolled through my gallery, looking for more to send. But I accidentally hit the wrong thumbnail and selected a naughty instead. I hadn’t sent it to him—but still, adrenaline flooded my heart, and I very, very carefully removed the photo from the text.
Close call,I thought, breathing a sigh of relief.
But then the wheels in my head started to turn.
Wait a minute.
What if I accidentally,wink wink,sent Rust a naughty?
He might not truly believe it was a real accident, but so what? I had plausible deniability; accidents like that can totally happen. It was sort of brilliant, wasn’t it? (Or I was tipsy enough to think it was brilliant, anyway.)
I pulled up my photo gallery again. I selected the very best picture from the photo set I took today and attached it to a text. I hesitated, my finger hovering over the “send” button. Could I really do this?
Minka set her paw on my forearm. The expression on her fluffy face seemed to say,“Girl, please. Don’t do that.”
But I smashed the send button before the dog talked me out of it. “Sorry, Minka. It’s done.”
My eyes bulged when I saw the picture pop up in our text message.
Holy shit! I can’t believe I just did that!
I started spamming panicky-sounding texts to make it look like a mortifying accident. Which was an easy enough feeling to tap into, because even though I’dmeantto send the photo, I was still feeling very, very vulnerable and embarrassed.
It was just socrazyseeing a sexy picture of me in a text message between me and Rust.
But what wouldhethink about it?
I gnawed on my finger, anxiously waiting for the read receipt on my texts to change fromDeliveredtoRead,so I’d known he’d seen it.
“Come on… come on, Rust… look at it!” I murmured, my heart hammering in my chest.
What will he think?
