Touch me, Dean. God, please. Just touch me already.
The way she would desperately spread her legs for me, exposing her sweet, pink pussy, dripping already.
Then I’d smack the flat of my palm against her perfect ass. Hard enough to leave a red welt of my handprint on her skin.
“Dean?”
I snapped out of my reverie and glanced at Barrett. He raised his eyebrows expectantly and gestured to the waiter on standby, notepad and pen in hand. Waiting for my order.
Everyone stared at me.
Damn it. Caught red handed, daydreaming about my best friend’s daughter. I cleared my throat and glanced at the menu, scrambling to latch onto anything. But the words were a blur and I was too scatterbrained to focus.
“I’ll just…uh…I’ll take the house special,” I said.
The waiter jotted it down with a scribble. I had no idea what I just ordered, but I didn’t care.
“Well,” Barrett said after the waiter had left. “I have to work one more day tomorrow. Then I’ll have the rest of the week off for Christmas. So, you and Ruby are on your own. Try to keep her out of trouble, yeah?”
I blew out a breath and closed my eyes. Being alone with Ruby was probably not a good idea right now. Not in my current state.
Ruby’s phone rang, lying facedown on the table. She grabbed it and glanced at the screen.
“It’s Sierra, I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t go anywhere without me, you two!”
Hopping off her chair, she scooped up her coat and picked a path through the crowded, noisy restaurant to take the call outside.
“I’m surprised she hasn’t started hounding you yet,” Barrett said, as soon as Ruby was out of hearing range.
“About what?”
“Your abysmal love life,” he replied, nonchalant.
“Okay, first of all, ouch. You don’t have to say it like that.”
Barrett spread his hands.
“Am I wrong?”
I huffed a laugh, tracing the arc of a water stain on the table’s surface with one finger.
“I don’t have any problem attracting a lady’s company,” I protested.
“But you do have a problem with the long-term aspects of a relationship.”
Leaning back in my chair, I sighed and folded my arms. Ever since we were boys—wild, rowdy devils who ran roughshod through town, leaving a whirlwind of trouble in our wake—Barrett had been the level-headed one in our duo.
He was the boy that girls wanted to bring home to meet the family. They were proud of him, impressed with his polite, mild-mannered ways.
I was the boy that girls kissed in secret for the thrill of rebellion, but no one wanted to be associated with abad kidlike me.
So, it came as no surprise when Barrett got married, bought a house, and started a family. He’d been destined to follow that path in life.
Meanwhile, I joined the Reckless Order MC. Forever burdened by that label of being a bad kid. Things were rough at home with my folks fighting day and night, so I acted out my frustration in all the wrong ways. I had my fair share of hook ups and one-night-stands, but nothing more than that.
“The longest relationship I’ve ever had is with my bike,” I replied. “And that damn club.”
“It’s not too late to find someone and settle down, if that’s what you want.”
