Ronnie twists a curl around her pinky, looking up at the ceiling. “Hmm. No. No can do. Tonight, I’m going out with Dave.”
“Dave? Dave the dud?”
“Actually—surprise of surprises—after I saw you last, he called. We went out. And what do you know? We found the thing we both really enjoy doing together.”
Really? “What’s that?”
“Sex.”
Sex? “Did you say sex?”
She grins, her eyes lighting up. “Yes. It surprised me too. But it’s amazing what happens when you give a man what he needs.”
“What he needs?” My words come back to kick me in the nads.
The world spins out of control.
“Yeah.” She tilts her head, her face going serious. “Thanks so much. That turned out to be some great advice. It made all the difference. I might actually have a chance in hell of winning this bet after all.”
“Wait. Hold up. So, Dave…the Dave and you had sex? Like intercourse?”
A sly smile steals over her features. “Well, at this point I just sucked him off. But he enjoyed it. And you know how I feel about that.”
My fists tighten. My chest boils. My jaw clenches.
I turn and walk away. I just—can’t—even.
That fucker. Using a beautiful young woman to get his rocks off, and he’s not even straight? Is he bi? Damn. I didn’t see that coming.
I walk outside.
As I open the door to my car, Ronnie sticks her head out of the front door. “Thanks for stopping by. Rain check on the date?”
I can’t even speak, so I lift my fingers in a half wave.
I pour myself another glass of whiskey, chugging it and taking in the burn. “I mean, I watched every single minute of video we have from their dates. Nothing. I saw nothing that looks like an overture from Dave.”
Bax shrugs. “She turn off the camera?”
“Fuck if I know.” I slam my tumbler down on the glass table.
Bax’s half-open lids widen, but only for a moment.
I drop a couple of cubes into our glasses and pour more whiskey.
Bax grins. “You know, I can’t handle the firewater as good as you white boys.”
White boys.
“White boys.” My brain latches onto the first thing it can get traction with to figure out this Ronnie/Dave debacle. “Do you think that’s it? Maybe I’m not keeping up with what she’s had in the past.”
I pull the front of my pants out and check my cock. No. It’s bigger than most. I think. Fuck it. If I lacked something in that department, I wouldn’t have the reputation I do. That can’t be it.
“I need to get laid. Stick my dick into another pussy to wipe Ronnie out of my mind. Big fucking deal if she’s somehow managed to get a gay guy to drive down the middle of the street.”
“Women are a pain in the fucking cock, Brother.” Bax lifts his glass, and I bump it with mine.
“She’s just a girl. I’m a man. I’ll take this like a man.”
Bax nods. He beats his chest with his fists. “Yeah. Men. We’re men.”
“I have needs. She’s getting hers met. Why shouldn’t I?”
“Fuck yeah!” Bax rolls off the chair into the floor.
“I mean, if there was ever a woman who could make a gay guy want to dip his dick in the other side, it’d be Ronnie. She’s hotter than a—” I get down next to him. “Dude? Bax? You okay?”
His eyes are closed, but he lifts his hand. “I’m good. Good. Women—bad. Very bad.”
“Shayna’s giving you a hell of a time, eh?”
He shakes his head, and the shaking becomes a nod. “Shay hates me, Brother. Not just me. She hates the wind I’ve been pissing into and the air I breathe.”
I pat his head. Bull pushes between us. Jealous dog.
Bax covers his nose. “Speaking of the air I breathe…Bull, what the fuck? Aw, man, that dog befouls the environment.”
“Leave poor Bull alone. He can’t help it.” I grab Bax’s arm and drag him up. “C’mon. Let’s go show these women we’re men. Men who don’t need their shit.”
On the way to the door, I snag the bottle of bourbon we’ve almost polished off.
I pick up the box with a trembling hand. The instructions look easy enough. I set it on the shelf again.
No. Not possible.
The voice in the corner of my mind argues with my logic—my crappy logic, which is really more wishful thinking than anything.
Fine.
I snatch the box up and head to the register before I can change my mind.
Shay meets me at the door. “What’d you get?”
I tuck the bag into my purse. “Nothing.”
We get into the car, doors slamming.