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Sitting up against my headboard, my fingers flew over the keys on my phone. The first three attempts were a bit angry, and I had to delete. If she wanted impersonal, I’d give it to her.
My message would be just as bland.
@Hunter M: Hi, little B.
Bailey Baby is typing...
For five minutes I sat and watched those three dots start, and then stop, only to start again.
@Bailey Baby: I got your present. Why?
@Hunter M: Be more specific, B. Why what?
No sooner had I hit send than my phone rang with a video call. Her face stared back at me. Four rings, and then I received that message telling me I’d missed my chance.
Bailey Baby is typing...
@Hunter M: I’m heading out the door.
Liar.
@Bailey Baby: Pick up. Don’t hide from me.
Seconds after she sent that, she called once again. This time, I answered. Before I could stop it, a smile stretched itself across my face the moment our eyes met. Hit me in the gut just how much I’d missed Bailey.
“Hi.” She gave me a little wave, brow raised. “Nice to see your face, Miles.”
I bit my lip in order not to laugh. “Deserve that.” Running a hand through my hair, I pulled on the longer strands while trying to come up with something to say. Anything to make the awkwardness I felt lessen.
What could I say to break the ice?
“I’m waiting.”
“For?” At my denial, she glared.
“Why, Hunter?” Her pretty face was full of anger toward me, but it was the hurt in her voice that caused my heart to clench.
“Give it to me. I can take it,” I spoke low, calmly. Last thing I wanted to do was upset her more.
That night in the pool changed the way I viewed her no matter how much I tried to deny it. As if reading my mind, she turned toward the screen, green eyes blazing.
“Dammit, Miles...” she sniffed “...why go through all that trouble—avoid me—if you were going to just sneak into my room before leaving to drop off that gift.”
“Because I’m an asshole who misses you.”
***
Chapter 11:
Dating Me
“SO, WHERE ARE WE off to so early?” Bailey asked, turning in her seat the moment we merged into traffic down the street from my parents’ house. “Better be amazing, or I’m cabbing it back home and crawling into bed.”
“Good luck with that.” A smirk played on my lips as I watched her from the corner of my eye. Bailey fidgeted in her seat, legs pressed together.
My girl was a crabby, sexually frustrated woman, and I enjoyed every fucking second of it.
I could tell by the way her nipples puckered beneath the white crochet-halter she wore. No bra. It was thin. A motherfucking tease.
