So Toxic(Bad Boy Next Door Book 4)(94)

I suppose that’s just not how everyday love works.

The shitty thing about love? It only lasts if it’s true on both sides. One-sided love can never withstand the rigors of life—or a best friend on the prowl.

Tears sting the backs of my eyes and my chest tightens.

An oddly high-pitched version of Joy to the World plays somewhere outside, pulling me back from the brink of an emotional break. I shake myself out of my own head.

Haven’t had a breakdown in three or four months. I’m not having one today.

I let myself outside to see what the wretched music is all about. When I get to the end of my driveway, a big boxy truck rounds the corner. On its rooftop, a speaker disguised as a giant ice cream cone pumps out crackly music.

The Pied Piper pulls over at the curb across from Adam’s house.

I step inside and grab my wallet.

When I come back outside, there’s a small horde of neighborhood kids vying to be noticed by the lady in the side window of the truck.

Adam meets me at the end of his front walk. “I haven’t seen one of these trucks since I was a kid.”

I shrug.

No need to get excited. He didn’t come outside to see me. He just wants what all the boys want—sugared cream.

I’m just another pussy to him.

“How’s the writing? Did we loosen up those words for you?”

I avoid meeting his eyes. “Not a bit.”

A smaller kid steps up to the window, but a couple of bigger boys push him aside and rush in to take his place, laughing as his knees hit the concrete.

Those little shits.

I grit my teeth and move toward the truck. Adam gets to them first.

He leans so he’s face to face with the two bullies.

“Now, boys, I know how much you want to buy your friend here some ice cream.” Adam nods to the kid brushing his knees off from where he fell to the ground. “But let’s let him do it for himself. All right?”

The boys’ eyes widen as they nod and step aside. The little boy steps to the window. He looks over his shoulder to Adam, his smile timid.

Then he turns to the lady. “I-I wa-want a choc-chocolate bomb. P-p-please.”

The older kids giggle at the stuttering boy. Adam sends them a hard look and clears his throat.

“I’ve got his.” He steps in behind the little boy. “And hers too.”

I wave my wallet at the lady in the truck. “Oh, no. I’ve got mine.”

The woman hands the boy his chocolate bomb and he runs off, stopping a few yards away to turn and wave to Adam.

Adam’s smile is enough to melt so much more than my ice cream.

I turn away before he catches me watching him. “Ice cream sandwich, please.”

The woman hands me my treat and I pass her the money.

Adam steps in close behind me, his chest hard against my back. I inch to the left, but he follows.

“I’d have been happy to buy you an ice cream.” His breath brushes past my ear, sending tingles down my arms and into deeper parts as well.

I dodge his big hands as they reach for my waist. “Thanks anyway.”

Adam pays the woman for his lemon chill cup and the boy’s treat.

We stroll across the street toward his front porch.

He pops open his container and digs in with the tiny plastic spoon. “I was going to make you breakfast yesterday, but you left in a hurry.”

“Yeah. I needed to get home and feed Chloe. I hadn’t planned on staying the night.”

I carefully unwrap my ice cream, focusing on it rather than looking at Adam, who I’m pretty sure is studying me. Is he comparing me to all those other women he’s had?

He nudges my arm with his elbow. “I’m glad you did.”

Is he?

The ice cream truck starts up its obnoxious music, and the engine roars to life.

Be nice. Keep things friendly—gotta live next door to him, after all.

I say, “You were good with those kids. I wanted to rip them a new one.”

He gives a one shoulder shrug. “I have a couple of kiddos in my life, so I know a few things. Kids are a pain in the ass though.”

“Oh? You don’t like kids?” Of course, he doesn’t.

“They’re okay, I guess. I just don’t want any.” He flips his full spoon upside down and drags the lemon concoction off onto his tongue.

Oh, that tongue and the things it can do. It brought such pleasure.

And it’s done the same for so many others. And will do for countless more, I’m sure.

Gotta keep that in mind. I need a one-woman guy, not a womanizer.

Mine is just another pussy—conveniently located right next door.

Something brushes against me. He’s running the backs of his fingers across my forearm.

I jerk away from his touch. “What?”

“I said, do you like rug rats?”