Shaking my head, I laugh. “Thank you. Very generous offer. But it’s probably best this way. He’s not the guy I want. He’s just a hormone-fog-induced speed bump on my road to a real relationship.”
“Yeah, maybe. But he’s a fucking hot speed bump, with other bumps in all the right places. I mean, that guy is seriously shredded, Rons. I really screwed you by not letting him screw you. I owe you something.”
I turn off the light as I head down the hall.
“Shay, stop already. It’s okay. I have a vibrator. I—I will survive.” I sing the lines from the Gloria Gaynor song Gee-Gee loves so much.
And so another night with my battery-operated boyfriend. Well, at least B.O.B. is willing to be part of a long-term relationship.
Jackson Tremaine’s idea of a long-term relationship is probably when he stays in a girl’s bed longer than it takes the wet spot to dry.
Cock-blocked by a fucking bird.
I slam my hand against my steering wheel.
And to top it off, now I can’t go see Ronnie when I want to. Whatever crawled up Shay’s ass sure did a job on me and my plans. Fuck.
How else am I going to get some pussy? Well, that particular pussy.
The way she looked up at me, all sweet and sexy, embarrassed because she likes to suck cock. Aw, man. Doesn’t get any better than that.
And I didn’t even get to lick her cunt or suck it or anything. I hope she was at least somewhat taken care of by her own hand. I’ve never left a woman hanging. That’s just—no real man does that. But when a lady says get out of her house, you get the fuck out.
Shit. Now I’ll be jackin’ off again tonight. Damn.
Girl’s gonna give me fucking tennis elbow.
Tennis.
That’s it!
Shayna surprised me last evening when I called and she actually told me where Ronnie plays tennis. She even apologized for kicking me out. She said her bird had a dirty mouth anyway and Dickey learning something new would be entertaining later, if embarrassing for Ronnie.
I laugh at the thought of one of Ronnie’s future boyfriends visiting, and that bird sounding off about how it’s coming while calling Ronnie’s name. I have to admit that, as much of a sick bastard as it makes me, that shit’s pretty fucking funny.
I have a big grin all the way to the park, where Ronnie’s meeting our boy, Dave.
Dave—the man. The one she’s supposed to make fall for her.
Yeah. We’ll see about that.
I park under a tree and wait.
The sun warms the cool morning air to a comfortable temperature fairly quickly. Ronnie shows up, ready to play in her tennis pants and top—she must be a serious player. It looks like she has all the right gear. With her racket in hand, she lets herself into the court. She goes through her stretches in preparation for the game.
The park is almost deserted this time of morning. With the exception of a woman sitting on the bench with children playing on the swings and slides adjacent to the tennis courts, Ronnie and I are the only ones here.
I get out of the car, careful to close the door as quietly as possible. Slinking over to the running trail, I find a spot behind a hedge to stretch. I do some jumping jacks and other calisthenics until I work up a light sweat. Don’t want to get too nasty, but I have to make this believable.
Taking off jogging around the end of the hedge, I take the fork in the trail that runs closest to the tennis courts. As I close in, I slow.
Looking straight ahead. Looking ahead. Okay. Now.
“Ronnie? Is that you?” I wave and raise my eyebrows, employing the acting skills I haven’t used in quite some time to act surprised.
She turns and shades her eyes. “Jackson?”
“Good morning, Peaches.” I veer off the path toward the gate to the court. “Odd that we should end up in the same place this morning.”
She props and hand on her hip and cocks her head. “Don’t even try it, Tremaine. You forget that Shay’s my best friend. She told me you called.”
“Damn. I should’ve known.”
“What I don’t get is why you’d bother.” She reaches into her bucket and picks up a ball, tossing it in the air and smacking it with her racket. It flies down the court and bounces off the fence.
“Call it professional curiosity.”
She grabs a second ball from her supply. “Curious about what?”
I shrug. “About what you’ll do to catch him. You know, ensnare him with your loving ways and all the mumbo jumbo in your book.”
She lobs the ball across the court with a hard swing of her racket and turns hard eyes on me. “You said you read the book. You should already know.”
“Actually, I said I read parts of it. The chapter headings, mostly.” I earn a roll of her eyes.