He seemed satisfied with that answer, a humble smile on his face as he delicately cut into his portion. “I’m surprised you haven’t had it before. I thought hunting was big in the South.”
“Eh.” I shrugged. “Hunting was huge, sure. People were more excited about deer and dove season than duck in my hometown. There was more opportunity with deer, though.”
Price was a slow eater, I’d learned. Or maybe I was just fast. His plate had more than half left on it, whereas mine had dwindled to maybe three forkfuls. “Hunting is still a thing here, though not near as much.”
People hunt in the city? Maybe it was presumptuous of me, but I always thought hunting was more of a Southern hick-esque activity. I never saw the appeal, and thankfully, neither did Mom.
Willow, on the other hand, also hated it but was dragged to the deer stands whenever possible by her dad. He thought it would be a fun father-daughter bonding activity, and she thought it was torture.
“What’s this sauce?”
“It’s an apricot chutney.”
“Sounds fancy.” Too fancy for me to enjoy. I felt almost out of place in my raggedy tee that I’d had for four years too long. My jeans were ripped and tight enough that they’d make any conservative woman who walked past me clutch her pearls and gasp. The rips weren’t for fashion, and the unfortunate sizing wasn’t to make my ass and thighs look better.
Honestly, I didn’t give enough of a shit about myself to care about trends. Price, on the other hand, always seemed to be put together in a way I never could be. With his perfect hair that paved the perfect path to show off his gorgeous cheekbones, to his wrinkle-free, perfect-fitting clothes that looked new and taken care of.
Price cooked meals that deserved to be placed on a pedestal in a food-centric museum. He was the competent manager at The Arch thateveryone could count on. I’d seen his schedule, which meant I knew just how busy he was. Plus, his apartment was nice.
Like, it wasnice,nice. Well, nice to me. Everything I’d seen had a modern touch with quartz countertops, sparkling clean white walls, and gorgeous hardwood floors that would make slip if I only wore my socks. The kitchen was stocked, every inch of space full of some sort of gadget aside from the detached island he used as a workstation.
This man had his life so put together that it’d be a sin to knock him down.
“Crew?”
My head snapped up at my name, Price standing at the other end of the table. He was holding my empty plate in his hands. “Sorry, what’d you say?”
He jerked his head towards the living room. “I’m just putting this in the sink. Your bag is on the couch. I’ll meet you there.”
Something queasy and borderline evil swam in my gut, a feeling I’d long despised.
I was nervous.
All it would take would be a slight hint of fear, and it’d be just like when I was thirteen. My brain was a pro at getting emotions mixed up with others. I knew I was nervous. I knew Price was safe. My body didn’t know. It didn’t understand that being exposed or feeling vulnerable wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Instead, it took it as a threat.
The folded paper shook with my hands, trembling back and forth without a single gust of wind to explain it. I couldn’t take my eyes off it, deciding to ignore Price as he sat on the couch. I could see him from my peripheral vision, a white sheet much like mine clutched in his hands.
He turned to face me, placing a calming hand on my bouncing knee. Had it been bouncing this whole time? I wasn’t sure. Why was I so fucking nervous? Maybe it was because I knew what would come after this. The inevitable had once again bested me.
Without uttering a single word, we swapped papers and unfolded them at the same time. I scanned down the list, noting everynegativewritten on the side. Price would see that mine looked the same.
I’d had an STI before—always minor, always treatable. My line of work was not only dangerous, but I chose to do my business with some of the nastiest Johns out there. I knew a few that would swap shit out oruse defective condoms on purpose. A particularly vengeful John was how I’d gotten crabs a few years ago.
My breathing was too loud. Price hadn’t said anything, and I was drowning in silence, waiting for him to say something. The heat kicked on, a gentlewhooshfilling a part of it, though nowhere near enough.
Finally, Price cleared his throat and gripped my knee. “We’ll still use condoms for penetration. Thank you for doing this, Pretty Boy.”
What in the fuck was I supposed to say to that?“Yeah, you’re welcome for getting a printout showing my cock was good for sucking bare.”
Of course, I didn’t say that. Instead, I nodded sharply.
“Let’s go to the bedroom. Did you shower at home?”
Part of me wanted to say no just so I could freak out for a bit longer. The other part wanted to scream yes, so I could feel his strong, soft hands on my skin again.
But if I freaked out now, I’d never let myself live it down. I nodded, grabbing my bag before following Price to his bedroom. We passed two doorways on the way there, both doors open wide to show a bathroom and what I assumed to be a guest room.
Price’s room was nothing like I had expected. For some reason, I was prepared to be met with muted beige walls, off-white curtains, and perhaps a few pieces of black and gold accents.
