“We”—she looks at Gwen—“have clinicals at six.” Her face is stern, but her unhappiness doesn’t detract from how pretty she is and how stunning she looks in a pair of navy slacks and a white buttoned-up long-sleeved blouse paired with nude heels.
“How about I pick it up from you?” Bobby addresses Miss Hopper, and the green-eyed monster rears its ugly head.
Miss Hopper is Bobby’s age, has long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She’s slim and tall and dresses in the latest style. Most of the college guys have a thing for her. Does Bobby have a thing for her? I clench my hand.
“Or you can give it to Gwen, and I’ll swing by her place after my shift,” I say to Miss Hopper, still ignoring Bobby. “The place I volunteer at closes at eight.” It’s not in the best part of Dumas, but I’ll manage.
Gwen pushes past Bobby and pulls me into a hug. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll convince her to sign,” she says near my ear.
My entire body stiffens. She’ll hate me when she finds out about me and Bobby. Gwen made it very clear that we were to stay away from her brothers. I assume it also includes the brother we girls didn’t know about.
I hug her back. “Thank you. See you later, bestie.” I’m laying it on thick. This could be the last time we part on good terms. Will the others turn their backs on me when Gwen tells them I broke one of her cardinal rules?
Panic rises in me like a rogue wave threatening to destroy what was once a calm outing on a little boat in the sea. The alarm in my backpack goes off. The clattering tests my already frayed nerves. I can’t lose my shit in front of Bobby, Gwen, and the gorgeous Miss Hopper, who is checking out Bobby coyly beneath her lashes.
Good God, doesn’t she realize she is not being discreet at all? Expelling a frustrated breath that I’m prolonging the torture of watching another woman, someone perfect for Bobby with her smarts and looks and is, of course, appropriately close to his age, I rummage in my backpack, shut off the alarm on my phone, and book it out of there with a quick, “Thank you for your time.”
I zip up my backpack, sling it over my shoulder, and hurry to the double doors. My skin is clammy. My heart is beating so hard I’m afraid it’ll burst through my chest.
Tears fill my eyes, obscuring my vision. I’m such a fool for thinking our seven-year age difference wouldn’t be a problem.
Of course it’s a problem. Bobby’s twenty-eight. Riley goes gangbuster for trivial shit, and something she told us while we passed around a bottle of RumChata, drinking it straight from the bottle, was that the average age for women to get married was twenty-eight, while men had their first marriage at the median age of thirty.
Bobby is two years away from marrying age. Miss Hopper is already at the median age. I’m lagging by a good seven years. The exact number of years that separate me and Bobby. Bobby will want kids sooner rather than later.
I push through the doors and dash at the tears. What have I done? How could I fall for my best friend’s older brother? I should’ve taken back everything I said to Bobby when I ran into him using my garden hose in my backyard. I should’ve kept his number blocked. Instead, I put him back in my list of contacts.
Then there’s the problem of Braxton getting out of jail soon. I groan. I can’t deal with this shit. Ty will hurt them when he finds out. My father will send his men after them. Gwen will hate me more than she will when she finds out about me and Bobby.
I march to my car. How did I get mixed up with two Bliss brothers?
My next alarm goes off in my backpack. Shit, I won’t make it to work in time. I’m never late.
Maggie has a doctor’s appointment—it’s the appointment. Plus, her military husband is home. I can’t ruin their special day of finding out what the sex of their baby is by being late because I’d let Bobby’s presence near a drop-dead gorgeous woman his age distract me from being quick with Miss Hopper.
Gwen told me the sex of a baby can be determined by a blood test. It’s great that couples don’t have to wait for an ultrasound. At my age, babies are the furthest thing from my mind. But for Bobby? He’ll want babies soon, won’t he?
The alarm in my backpack blares at me. I run to my car and fetch the key fob from inside my pants pocket. I hit the open button just as someone grabs my arm. I swing around. My fist comes up, ready to punch some forward frat boy in the face.
A palm blocks my swing. Large fingers wrap around my fist and unfurl my hand. The color of his suit catches my attention before his mouth captures mine. I open my mouth to tell him to shove off. That I’m angry he was talking to a beautiful woman his age. Except all thoughts leave my mind the moment Bobby’s tongue sinks inside my mouth, and my anger fades, replaced with hot longing.
“Bobby.” His name leaves my mouth in a breathy murmur of need. I tangle my fingers in his silky ebony hair.
“I’ve missed you, sweetness.” He sinks his tongue inside my mouth again, and robbed of breath, I relax into his arms and give in to the happiness that wraps around my heart as a golden string that lights up my body from the inside out.
A noise blares past our moans, groans, and panting. Crap. I’m going to be late. I end the kiss and turn off the alarm on my cell. Bobby looks from me to the cell, then to my car. He tips his head at something I missed in my rush to get inside my car.
We’re standing near his motorcycle.
“Need a ride, baby?”
I smile from ear to ear. “You are my hero.”
“Nah, baby, I’m the villain of your story and the bad boy of your fantasy. Come here, sweetness.” He opens his arms.
Squealing with happiness, I jump into his embrace. With my arms and legs wrapped around him, I press my mouth on his and whisper, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“We good, then?” With one arm tucked under my ass, he tucks pieces of hair that have come loose from my ponytail behind my ears.
