So Toxic(Bad Boy Next Door Book 4)(14)

Still…marry him?

I scoot away from him to sit on the edge of the bed, head hanging. “I’m sorry, Ty. I can’t marry you.”

He scrambles off the bed, standing next to me with his hand on my shoulder. “Wait. Don’t answer yet. Sit on it for a day or two before you decide. I promise, you won’t regret it. I’ll make sure of that.”

His eyes implore me to give this craziness some thought.

I owe it to him to at least mull it over.

I pick at a snag in the fabric of my old bedspread. “Okay. I’ll consider it. But, don’t hold your breath, Ty. I—I want to marry for love, not money…not convenience. I don’t want to give up my chance to be loved, truly loved.”

He squats in front of me. His big hands gently take mine, cupping them in their warmth. “You aren’t giving up anything. Honestly. This marriage only has to last as long as it takes me to get permanent custody of Caden.

“After that, we can get it annulled. No long-term strings attached. As if you were never married. It’ll be more like you have a guy for a roommate. That’s all.”

A roommate who, not ten minutes ago, licked his fingers clean of my cream. The first guy to ever taste it.

I pull out of his grasp and stand. “I’ll think about it. But that’s all I can promise. This isn’t a small thing, Ty—not to me.”

He pushes to his feet. “Me either. I know it’s a lot to ask. I get it.”

I walk him to the door and usher him outside.

I cringe when he gives me a quick peck on the cheek and squeezes my shoulders in a short hug. “Thank you for considering it.”

It’s almost as if this isn’t the same cocky bastard who gave me so much hell in high school.

He steps off the porch and jogs toward his side of the yard, turning back as his foot lands on his driveway. “Don’t forget…you owe me, JoJo.”

And there he is, folks. The real Tyson Masters shows up in the nick of time.

As if I need reminding.




All afternoon, I’ve stewed over Ty’s reminder that I owe him.

Owe him.

Now, I pace the living room, ranting at the windows. Railing at the furniture. Cursing at the wall my home shares with his.

“Like I asked for his fucking help. Like I begged for him to do what he did. Like what he did is any kind of equivalent to freaking marrying him…because marrying him—that’s a big thing.”

Okay, what he did was also a big thing.

Honestly? It was a huge thing.

Stevie comes in from the kitchen, licking chocolate pudding straight from its plastic cup.

“What on Earth are you going on about? Who’s getting married? Who did what, when?” She stares at me while she swipes her finger around the bottom of the container and then pops it into her mouth, sucking the remnants of her treat from her chocolate-covered digit.

I gnaw on my thumb nail, trying to decide how much to tell her.

She’s my best friend. Why haven’t I ever told her about this?

The answer almost slaps me in the face.

If she knows that I let someone take the rap for my misdeed, will she still think I’m worthy of her love and friendship?

The need to escape overtakes me, and I dash down the hall to my room, slamming the door behind me.

Two seconds later, Stevie jiggles the handle. “Jo? What’s wrong, honey? Let me in.”

Let her in.

The figurative meaning of that statement makes me gulp down the fear it evokes in my chest.

I open the door, avoiding her gaze. If she doesn’t look into my eyes, maybe she won’t see the wariness there. Maybe she won’t think there’s something wrong with me. Can I keep from losing her to the abyss that seems to always eat up the people I come to care for—the people I think care about me?

Stevie drags me to the bed where she pushes me to sit, plopping down beside me and throwing her arms around my shoulders. “What’s happened, Jo? Tell me.”

I shrug, tears gathering.

“What were you in the living room going on about? Who’s marrying whom? What does that have to do with you? What thing did someone do for you?”

I swipe an escaped tear from my cheek. “Tyson Masters. He wants to marry me.”

Stevie’s hands grip my upper arms and she pushes me away, her eyes crazy-wide. “The hell you say! Marry you?”

I nod.

She throws her hands in the air. “The fucker’s off his rocker. You hardly know each other.”

I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter. Marriage of convenience.”

“Convenient for who?” Stevie jumps to her feet. “And what the ever-loving fuck? I mean, who marries for convenience?”

“Apparently, Tyson Masters does—or wants to. He’s trying to get custody of his son. Something about his record and the presiding judge not liking him. His attorney says that if he’s a married man, it will improve his chances.”