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Chapter 7
Ryan
“Who needs balls anyway?”
“Is that myphone? Give me that!”
When I try to lean over the table to take my phone back from Dottie, she quickly scoots farther away on the bench seat with a laugh.
“It’s your own fault for not locking your screen,” she informs me as she continues looking down at my phone. “I keep my sexting on full lockdown with facial recognition.”
Sitting down next to her at one of the concession stand booths at the bowling alley, I finally snatch my phone out of her hand. “I wasn’t sexting anyone.”
“The fisting and anal says otherwise.” Dottie smiles at me.
“Stop talking. Just… stop talking right now.”
My face is so hot it feels like it might catch on fire. And it’s been this way since my phone betrayed me the other night, even though Danny made me laugh out loud with her responses to those unfortunate texts. My phone wasn’t smart enough to use the words I actually typed, but it could obviously read my mind and all the dirty thoughts I’d been having about Tin—Danica, since she walked through my front door.
Who am I kidding? I’ve been having dirty thoughts about her since she was bent over in line at Giovanni’s.
I still can’t believe the woman who gave me the most exciting weekend of my life is Tristan’s sister.
“I’m just over the moon that the woman you were sucking face with really is your new roommate! What are the odds? I’ll make sure to call first before I stop by from now on.” Dottie winks at me, and I sigh, stealing one of her fries from the serving basket on the table.
“I don’t even know if she’s going to move in. She’s still thinking about it.”
“If you were better at sexting, she’d probably already be there by now,” she cheekily replies.
“I’m just here to hopefully give her some good advice, so she can get her life back on track and return to Chicago with her family, where she belongs.” Popping the fry into my mouth, I grab another before Dottie pushes the basket closer to me. “I’m supposed to try to be her friend, remember?”
I start shoveling the fries in faster when I think about her calling mebuddyandmy friendin her texts. It should have made me happy that she seemed to be warming up to me, but I hated it. I hated the thought that, once again, a woman I’m attracted to is putting me in the friend-zone. It’s why I haven’t had a second date with anyone in over a year. I’m just not the kind of guy women fall all over. It shouldn’t bother me so much that Danny is just like all the rest. This should finally teach me the lesson that I need to stop being attracted to women who are out of my league. Danny is hot, funny, confident, and bold. The complete opposite of me. But honestly, she’ll probably be a good friend to have to help bring me out of my shell.
Too bad the things I’m thinking about her are anything but friendly. Seeing her in my home, thinking about her curled up on my couch while planning someone’s murder, or leaning against my kitchen counter and drinking a cup of tea with me as we talk about our day… it does things to me. It makes me want to get her naked in every single room of my house. I had to keep my hands in my pockets through that tour just to stop myself from touching her.
How in the heck am I going to live with this woman? If she even wants to after that epically bad texting fail.
“Did I mention she’s engaged?”
The words leave a sour taste in my mouth as soon as I say them, and I drop the half-eaten french fry in my hand back in the basket and push it away.
“You said she skipped out on her wedding. That means the engagement is over.” Dottie takes up where I left off with the fries.
“It’s still a big thing that just happened to her. She’s not in the right frame of mind for anything at the moment, and I don’t need to complicate things even further for her.”
It’s not likeshewants to complicate things anyway.
“I made a promise to Tristan, and she needs my help,” I continue, while Dottie finishes off the fries and takes a loud, slurping sip of her soda from the Styrofoam cup. “I don’t want her living in a hotel while she’s here. It can’t be comfortable, and I’m sure it’s lonely. I want her with me, where I know she’ll be safe and not alone.”
But I’m starting to actuallywant her with me, and that is not good. Not good at all. Because even through the embarrassment of those texts, she still made me laugh, and I had fun talking to her. And even though not looking her in the eyes for five-to-seven days until this humiliation leaves me would probably be wise, I’m on the edge of my seat, just counting down the minutes until I might see her again.
“Can we talk about something else?” I beg, waving to one of my seniors when he walks by us and over to one of the lanes to join the other members of the team who showed up a little early for practice.
“Sure. When are you finally going to talk to your father?”
“Can I veto this as well?” I plead.
“Nope.”
