Page 5 of Big Bad Love


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Yikes, dude. Try again.

I go from laughing at the dude in the bow tie to laughing at Leela because her small, quick strides make her seem angry about something. “You coulda just sold me a ticket for real, and I woulda come. No need to lie about it.”

Once we’re inside the house, she turns on me and hisses, “This party is invite-only. What are you doing here?”

Feigning innocence, I say, “Wouldn’t you know it? I was out for a stroll, and I walked up on this party. It just so happens I enjoy parties. And since I’m never one to deny myself a little bit of pleasure, I thought, why not be social and get to know some of my fellow Pine Mountain University Huntsmen.”

Leela narrows her eyes at me using the full name and school mascot. As she should; I’m acting like the weirdo I am.

“You were just innocently out for a walk at 10 o’clock at night.”

I shrug. “Why not?”

She’s not buying a word of what I say. “Do you not know how to take no for an answer? I said I was busy tonight!”

Flashing my palms in surrender, I affirm her. “I do. I know we’re not on a date. But you didn’t say I couldn’t attend a party.”

I scan my surroundings. Every pair of eyes in this room is watching us. More to the point, staring at Leela. An underdressed dude who looks like he’s been boozing it all day already brushes past us through the crowd, coming way too close to touching Leela’s ass with his middle. Nope. Don’t like that. Even if he’s bought herb from me too many times to count and is a valued customer, it doesn’t mean he gets to come close to Leela.

“I didn’t realize it was so exclusive; you didn’t offer to sell me a ticket. But thanks for covering for me,” I say with a grin.

“I didn’t want to make a scene with security. Zeta Gamma Nu has enough trouble with police getting called to their parties. And now that we have a…a dealer in our midst….”

So, she knows. Well, hell, I’m sure everyone here knows who I am.

“I would have left politely if you hadn’t shown up. No need to alert security. That guy, on the other hand….” I jerk my head toward the already-drunk dude, who’s talking way too close to one of the sorority girls I saw walking down the street with Leela earlier. That one, too, looks very uninterested in being chatted up.

Leela follows my gaze, then rolls her eyes. “Giles. The grandson of a Supreme Court Justice, so you’d think he’d know how to conduct himself. He’s a repeat problem child at these shindigs.”

“Looks like your security isn’t doing their job, then. Want me to get rid of him?”

Leela turns to me, looking horrified. “No! His family is the biggest donor to the school. Do you have any idea what would happen if he got kicked out?”

I lift one shoulder. “Everyone would have a nice time?”

She squares her shoulders and levels me with that withering gaze I love. “We wouldn’t make enough money for the animal shelter. Remember the puppies and the kittens?”

I nod, smiling at the fact that I just found my pet name for her. Leela’s eyes are glinting with annoyance at me, and a shadow of fear that she thinks I’m going to cause trouble. Her glossy lips part in a hint of a smile. No, a whisper of a hint. Her hands are perched on her wide hips, her fingertips inadvertently pointing to her soft, adorably plump tummy. My mind immediately conjures up the image of her hands resting on a bump round with our baby. The hem of her dress is short enough to gauge her thighs’ width—thick enough to have something to hold onto while I devour her pussy with my mouth. My gaze returns to her eyes, full of intelligence, a window to her keen, strategizing mind. There’s no single part of her that I don’t want to know at the deepest possible levels.

“Right,” I say. “Puppies and kittens.” Remembering this, I tug the clip out of my back pocket. “Where do I put my donation?”

She doesn’t even glance at the wad of cash in my hand. “Tickets are $300. It’s already been turned in to the treasurer and….”

I count off three hundred in the form of twenties and take her hand, turn it over and place the cash into Leela’s upturned palm.

“Uh, okay. You, what, have three hundred dollars on you? Just like that?”

I really don’t want to talk about money or how I got it. Glancing past her, I see the snack table, laden with fancy cheeses, meats, crackers, and cut fruit. What is that called again?

“Ooh! Y’all got one of those shart cootie platters! Nice.”

I’m gone before Leela can say another word.

THREE

Leela

“Babe.Are you okay? You look like you just saw the Ghost of Christmas Past, and he showed you every embarrassing poem dedicated to Michael B. Jordan you wrote in middle school.” Cassandra, my sorority sister who’s managed to shake the attention of Ethan Giles, asks me this as I chug water backstage before the auction.

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