Best I just text Kitty Pink Hair a picture of my pierced cock and wait for a response.
If I need a friend with benefits, I can go hit the bars or something.
This here … this is gonna be straight-up platonic.
“He ain't got no hair.” I wink at Brooke and she raises her brows at me, her perfectly arched and begging to be poked brows. I grin again.
“You live in Vegas. As in desert. As in hot.”
“Yeah, but nobody actually hangs out outside. It's all about the A/C, baby. Hub's gets the chills, don't ya, Hubs?”
“Hyoobs?” Brooke asks as she pets the cat and then takes a very calculated step away from me. Damn. Not used to that. Usually girls are trying to find their way closer to little old me. “That sounds like boobs or pubes.”
“Aw, see, look at you rhyming again over there, Smarty-Pants.” That gets me an almost smile as I scratch Hubert's bum and he turns and bites me. Dickhead. “His full name's Hubert. Not my fault. I didn't name the little bastard.”
“It's kind of an ugly name, but then … he's kind of an ugly cat.” I raise my brows at her, but it looks like she's trying to hold back a smile.
“Well, you have kind of an ugly dog,” I answer back, wiggling my brows.
“Yeah, well, he would not have been my first choice either.” That cute little half-smile widens, turning Brooke's young face into something spectacular. I almost whistle. Wow. Wow, wow, wow. I don't usually go for girls like this, the emotionally damaged but ridiculously sexy fresh-faced kind. I like the take-no-crap tattooed, pierced, bitchy sort. But Brooke … she's fucking hot.
There's this long moment where we're just staring at each other. I'm checking her out, loving the way her hip's cocked to one side, her hand resting there with this little pop of attitude. I feel like she's scopin' me out, too, like her eyes are undressing me with a slow burning heat.
Brooke bites her lower lip and causes me to run my tongue across mine.
“Um. I'm home now, so …” Awkward pause. “You can go now.”
I blink a few times as I feel a frown start to take over my face. Huh? What?
“Are you … kicking me out?” I ask and Brooke shrugs, grabbing her purse and heading for the stairs. I follow her with my eyes, mouth gaping as she starts up the steps and glances over her shoulder at me.
“See you again tomorrow? You can bring your stuff over then.”
“Um. Yeah. You got it.”
I pick up my hairless cat, my monsters, and my chihuahuas.
And I leave.
Feeling ten times as intrigued by the girl I shouldn't let myself have than I did before.
Nicely played, Brooke Overland. Nicely played.
I kick Tattoo God out of my house and then watch as his minivan pulls out of the driveway.
Gah.
That man is, like, way too attractive for his own good. And he knows it. And he knows I know it. And I had him shirtless on top of me last night, his body pressing me into my sister's mattress. Yuck. Super yuck. But also … not. I mean, I wanted him. If he'd kept going, slipped on a condom, put his thick, hard cock inside of me …
I shiver and shake my head, turning away from the window and heading down the hall to check on Bella and Grace. They're sitting on Bella's floor, playing with a pair of dolls, a giant monster truck, and … a copy of War and Peace? Not sure what that's about.
“How was your day today?” I ask, trying not to let the deluge of emotions I'm feeling into my voice. Not that anyone cares, but my day was not a good day. My class ran late and caused me to then be late to an interview. Next, my phone died and I forgot the new charger, so I had to use a crappy printout from the school library to try to get to my next one. In the end, I wound up getting lost and showing up five minutes late to that, too.
Oh, and I stopped over at that endangered sea crustacean's house and got my fifty bucks back.
Bitch.
Going back to the strip club was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life, but I sucked it up and I went. I did it. I got my job back.
“Fine,” Bella answers. Grace ignores me and uses the old book as a stage for her doll.
“Was … how was Zayden?” A shrug as Bella grabs Grace's doll from her hand.
“No. Not like that,” she snaps, turning the doll's lopsided dance into a complicated hip-hop routine of moving parts. I raise a brow, but I well remember the joys of having an older sister.
“He was nice? Polite? Did he feed you? Nothing … weird happened, right?”
“Kinzie got four time-outs, but she deserved them because she's a bully and she spits.”
“Um, okay.” I retreat from the room when it's clear there's nothing remarkable to talk about. Good. That's what I need from a nanny. Plain, boring, normal. No incidents to speak of whatsoever. Except for the fact that I almost had him run my V-card and make a hefty transaction. I shiver when I remember the crazy way I grabbed at his dick, like I was trying to spot shine it or something.