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I stared after him, stunned. And I couldn’t help it. I watched his ass as he walked.
It was amazing.
I stared for a long time after he was gone, still picturing it.
Then I ate my damned sandwich.
THREE
Nick
A redhead in overalls.Overalls.What the hell?
She wasn’t my type of woman at all. I didn’t reallyhavea type, except maybe “willing to put up with my shit” and “too self-involved to ask questions.” Evie Bates was neither. I shouldn’t have paid any attention to her. I should have just punched Bank Boy, dumped Gina, and moved on.
But I hadn’t. Oh, I’d punched him all right—Gina and I may not have been Romeo and Juliet, but no guy can stay calm at the idea of his girlfriend taking another guy’s dick. And as for dumping her, I suppose I’d made it pretty clear that Gina and I were done.
But then Evie Bates had walked in.
She had brown-reddish hair, brown eyes, clear skin, and a nice, rounded body. She didn’t look like a lingerie model or a party girl, but she didn’t have to. She was very fucking hot in a way I could appreciate, even with Gina’s bare, cheating ass on display.
But I was right when I said she was nice. It came off her like a smell—a nice smell, but still a smell. She was a nice girl, with a nice boyfriend, who was obviously keeping her chin up through the shock and hurt when she caught him fucking someone else. That look on her face when she came through the door made me want to punch Bank Boy all over again.
And again, in the diner, her feelings had beenright there.She’d practically put them on the table between us. Feelings were not something I was familiar with. Feelings were not how I roll. Except anger. And when Evie stopped looking hurt and started getting angry, I decided to see if she would agree to come hit me.
So sue me, I was curious. But that’s all it was. I wasn’t about to mess around with a girl that nice.
It was four o’clock in the morning now, and as I let myself into my loft apartment I heard the unmistakable clicking of dog toenails on my hardwood floor. Gina’s fucking dog. Her name was Scout, she was a Chihuahua, and Gina had given her to me because her landlord had implemented a no-pets policy. I didn’t want a dog, but Gina had begged me. There was no one else to take the thing, and it would get put to sleep. So now Scout lived with me.
I opened the door, and she came running, her tiny body wiggling in excitement, her tongue lolling. She stood on her hind legs—she only came to my knee like that—and scrabbled her tiny paws, which I could barely feel through the cloth of my jeans. This meant she wanted to be let out.
“I can’t believe this,” I grumbled at her as I grabbed the leash from the hook, which made her nearly explode with excitement. “Gina cheats on me, and I’m stuck with her stupid dog.” I looked Scout over as I clipped the leash to her pink collar. “Are you even a real dog, anyway? I’m not sure.”
Scout took my insults happily, trying to lick my face before I could stand up again. I dodged her—I knew where she put that tongue. We went outside and she did her business, her happy as fuck, me shivering in the drizzle and tired now as the events of the night set in. A few early-shift people were setting off to work, giving me curious looks as I waited for my Chihuahua with her pink collar to finish peeing. I wished I had a sign sayingShe’s not my dog, I’m just stuck with her.
I wasn’t a dog person. I wasn’t an anything person. I took Scout back upstairs, gave her some of her kibble, stripped down to nothing but a pair of sweatpants, and lay on my sofa, staring at the ceiling.
I had a loft apartment in downtown Millwood. It had been some kind of industrial building once upon a time, but it had been made over into artsy lofts that were right downtown and overly expensive. My neighbors were mostly lawyers and such.
I wasn’t a lawyer. I wasn’t anything. In fact, I was one hundred percent unemployed. And the loft was all mine, because of my trust fund. Sounds great, and it was, but my family was ten kinds of fucked up, plus my girlfriend had just banged a bank guy. Money buys a lot of things, but not everything.
It wasn’t my usual thing, to follow my girlfriend around, hoping to catch her cheating. I wasn’t a suspicious guy by nature, and as far as I’m concerned, when we’re not together and we’re not fucking, what a woman does with her time is her business. Just like what I do with my time is mine.
But I would have had to be a blind man not to see that Gina was screwing someone. Calling off dates, lying about where she was going, having her friends lie for her—she may as well have worn a neon sign. It’s one thing to get dumped—you won’t let us get serious, you’re too closed off, you have no feelings, I’ve heard them all—and another to be cheated on behind your back. First it made me suspicious, and then it made me mad. And I got even madder when I saw the guy she’d cheated with.
Seriously? That guy? With his carefully crafted stubble and his tighty whities? Maybe I’m not much of a boyfriend, but I have to be better thanthatguy. I don’t call much and I don’t tell the women I date anything important about myself, but at least I’m not high on myself and I know how to fuck.
Again, I saw the hurt cross Evie’s face, clear as day. Like someone had punched her in the stomach. Bank Boy had done that—hurt her like that. And again, lying on my couch and staring at the ceiling, that still bothered me.
Shit.
I drifted off on the sofa, my mind wandering to pleasant daydreams of Evie’s soft cherry lips on my dick, which was half-hard in my sweatpants because I’m an asshole. I woke up three hours later with a kink in my neck and Scout buried firmly in my armpit, curled tight into a ball and sound asleep. And damn it, I was still thinking about Evie Bates.
This wasn’t over yet. I had a feeling.
But first, I had to go visiting.
FOUR
