So Toxic(Bad Boy Next Door Book 4)(183)

When the Sheltie is finished, some type of terrier takes its mark.

I turn to Dave. “So, you’re a dog lover?”

The guy with the Sheltie approaches. Dave eyes him, smiling like they’re friends. But the man just keeps going, only raising a pinky from the end of the leash for a brief second as he passes, tugging the dog along. The pooch pulls against him, obviously trying to get to Dave.

“Dave?” I ask.

“Ronnie.” Dave swings back to face me with a sigh.

Is he annoyed?

A knot forms in the pit of my stomach.

The rest of the evening is spent walking around the dog course, stopping each time a new dog takes the field. He doesn’t even touch the small of my back. No hand holding. No anything. I touch Shayna more than this when we go out together.

This is a lost cause. I should simply cut my losses and call it a bust. By the time Dave pulls up in front of the house, I’ve decided to do exactly that.

He jumps out and comes around to open my door. “I hope you had fun.”

I sigh.

This is it. Rip off the bandage. “It was nice.”

He smiles. He has pretty eyes. Too bad there’s nothing between us.

Gah. I need to tell him. Deep breath.

“So, Dave—”

“About New Year’s Eve…” he takes my hand.

Oh. Maybe he’s going to ask me out. Maybe he’s just cautious. Maybe—

“I have a family thing out of state. It’s been planned for a while. But, I’d love to get together the next week. Wednesday? I have an idea for something a bit more exciting than dinner or dogs.”

My career gets a second wind and cheers from the sidelines. I let out a relieved sigh. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

He squeezes my hand. I shift from one foot to the other. Waiting.

He lets go of my fingers and places a hand on my shoulder. Is he finally going to kiss me?

I hold my breath. His hand slides across my back as he pulls me in for a side-hug. “Great. I’ll call you on Monday or something.”

He jogs back around his car, hops in, and zooms off with a little wave.

Side-hug? Well, I suppose that’s progress. Not much though.

I drag into the house. I drop my purse on the counter in the kitchen, and my phone vibrates. I fish it out of my bag.

Jackson.

“Hey, Peaches. How was the doggie date?”

Of course. The video feed. “Don’t you have anything better to do than watch me on my dates with Dave?”

He chuckles. “Nope. I still have an hour before I’m on air.”

“Then I hope you were bored to tears.” I almost was.

“So, no plans for New Year’s then?”

I rub the ache forming between my eyebrows. “I guess not. But, that doesn’t mean a thing. He asked me for a date next week. I think he must’ve been hurt in a past relationship and that’s why he’s taking things slow. I’m not out of the game yet.”

“Chill out there, Peaches. I wasn’t asking if you’re down for the count. I was calling to see if you want to go out with me on New Year’s Eve.”

I fan myself as heat washes over me. “Ah. Well—should we do that? I mean, we said after the bookstore thing that we should probably not be seen in public together.”

Jack laughs. “Maybe. But this is a masked ball. No one will even know it’s you.”

Masquerade? “Really? And you want to take me?”

“Love, I haven’t yet had my fill of you.”




I stand in front of the full-length mirror, pushing, tugging, and stuffing my boobs into the bodice of a dress any woman with tits this size should never consider wearing. However, on such short notice, this was the best I could do.

I’ve owned exactly two formal gowns in my life. Both prom dresses. Neither still fit, and, even if they did, they certainly wouldn’t be appropriate for a masquerade ball.

I fluff out my black brocade skirt. The fabric is luxurious and sewn through with silver threads. Hopefully it will match whatever mask Jackson brings for me. He wanted to buy me a dress, but, of course, I couldn’t let him do that. So we compromised on the mask.

I pull open the door. Jack stands at the edge of the porch with his back to me. Even from this viewpoint, the cut of his tux screams money. He turns, his half-smile enough to send even the most prudish of women into a fit of desire. A flutter in my chest is accompanied by a flood of saliva in my mouth and a similar flow of warm wetness to my pussy.

I swallow before I drool.

His gaze meets mine. And then it travels the length of my gown and back, stopping at my almost overflowing breasts. A flush of heat rushes up over my chest and onto my cheeks. This dress feels less and less appropriate every second.

I run my fingers over the pendant Gee-Gee gave me when I graduated high school. “Will I do?”