Page 11 of Insatiable Bachelor (Bachelor Tower 1)
“I’ll get there soon as I can. We can figure it out.”
“Bye, Penny Pot,” he says in his very familiar way. I once asked him why he called me Penny Pot and he said it was because I knew how to value even what others might overlook.
I sit in the living room of my sister’s expensive apartment and wonder if my own paycheck has cleared this week so I can take the bus across town. The cost of one vase on my sister’s stone mantel would probably solve my father’s financial issues.
He wouldn’t take her money, though. Kylie couldn’t give it without a lecture and a plan to prevent him from ever finding himself in that situation again. But he would stumble, and I’d find myself in the middle once again.
It’s not something I can solve, so I push it from my mind. I promised my father a visit, and now I have to make that happen. Glancing out the window I watch the rain come down in sheets, blown by the wind. There’s a thud on the other side of the wall, the one that butts up to Dalton’s apartment and I try to remember which direction his office is. I could ask him for a ride at least that far. But something tells me there would be strings attached to that request.
I’m still reeling at his blatant pronouncement that he wants to fuck me. And confused at how abruptly our evening together ended.
There’s a sadness to him that makes me wish I knew how to show him that not everyone is money driven. After hearing about his childhood, it’s not surprising he’s afraid of caring about anyone. I bet he did care about some of his father’s wives. No one starts with a closed-off heart.
Each time they left his father—they left him too.
My heart aches for the young boy that must have been devastated.
He’s not a child anymore, though. He’s a grown man, and even though I want to help him, I refuse to fall into the trap of thinking I could change him. I’m not my mother. I don’t believe my way is the only way.
Dalton is successful in his field. If his claims are to be believed, he doesn’t lack for companionship. He’s fine.
I definitely don’t need his help getting across town.
But I can’t stop thinking about how our night together ended. For someone who talks shit and blatantly announces his intentions, he didn’t make a move on me. He helped me get my card key, thanked me for the meal, and walked me to my door.
Just as sweetly as any of the nice guys I’ve dated would have. We’d stood at my door, looking into each other’s eyes, our attraction pulsing between us.
I’d expected him to ask to come in.
I’d half hoped he would kiss me mindless and we would both get swept away in the passion, no words necessary.
I hadn’t expected him to kiss me lightly on the cheek before turning away.
Yes, I can take a bus to see my father, but I want to see Dalton again. There, I said it.
Good or bad.
Right or wrong.
I need to see him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dalton
“Hey, can I ask you a favor?” Penny says as she approaches me in the hallway. I’m on my way toward the car service that takes me to my office every morning. Her hair is still damp from the shower, and I get a whiff of her shampoo. Instant boner. I’m in a bad place.
“Shoot.” As a rule I don’t do favors, but I’m curious.
“I have to get across town this morning, and it’s raining. Are you going downtown? Even if I go as far as your office, it’ll help. Don’t feel that you have to say yes.”
“I never feel that way.”
She smiles as if she expected me to say that. “So?”
“Sure, I may have to make a few calls on the way though.”
“No problem.” She pops earbuds in.
I let her take the lead toward the elevator so I can watch her ass pump up and down in her yoga pants. It’s my favorite look on her. I nearly ask her what she’s doing across town, but I can hear her music and know she won’t hear me unless she takes the earbuds out. Which means I’m the one who wants to chat. I’m not going to give her that satisfaction. Not fucking her was a good choice.
We walk then ride as if we’re strangers sitting by each other on the T. Exactly what I’d want on most occasions, but I don’t like it. I nudge her, and she turns her music off. “We’re nearly at my office. The driver will take you the rest of the way. Where are you heading?”
A strange look flashes across her face before she shakes her head no. I pegged her as someone with nothing to hide, but now I’m not so sure. She looks like she’s choking on a secret.
“I’ll take a bus.”
“Where are you going?” I press.
She gives me a long look. “Does it matter?”
“Maybe.” Although if she insisted I wouldn’t be able to produce a reason why.
“I’m going to see my father. It’s a complicated situation I don’t like to talk about. Okay?”
She doesn’t have to tell me anything. Her entire life is none of my fucking business. If my car had an ejection seat, I would have outed her right then. Instead, I said gruffly, “You looked like something was wrong.”
Her expression softens. “See, you do care about me.”
My heart starts going maniacal in my chest. I probably should go see a doctor. Every day brings a new symptom that something isn’t right with me. “Reading people is part of my job. You looked like there was something you didn’t want to share, and I was right. Nothing more than a test to see if I was correct.” I let my tone announce the subject was one I’d already lost interest in, even though I felt off-balance.
“You sound just like my mother and sister.” She breathes out loudly, looking disappointed in me. “It’s always strategic. There’s always a winner and loser. Doesn’t that get exhausting?”
“No.” Maybe, but I’m not about to admit that.
“You need a life coach,” Penny says, snapping her fingers together. “Someone to show you how to relax.”
“If either of us needs a coach, it’s you. A sex life coach.”
“And I suppose you think you’re qualified for the position?”
“I don’t want to brag, but yes.”
“Is sex all you think about?”
“I’m a man, so I say this with pride—yes. Mostly. I also think about work, and food when I?
?m hungry.”
“Everything’s a joke to you, but I don’t believe you’re really having great sex.”
“And I doubt you hit the threshold to even file income taxes.”
“Ouch. You really got me there.” She taps her chin. “But do I care what you think of my employment choices? Um. No.”
“You should. Money is power and power is everything. Your sister understands that.”
“I’d love to see you out of that suit—even if it’s for only one day.”
“What a coincidence, my first tip to you would be to lose your clothing too.”
“You’re hopeless.”
I lean forward and hit the button to close the partition between us and the driver. “And you’re curious.”
“I’m not,” she says, but I can see her eyes flashing with nervousness. I’ve hit on the truth, and she knows it.
I tell myself to stop now. Hadn’t I already decided this was a bad idea? “You’re right. Maybe you should stick to your vanilla sex.”
“Vanilla? What does that even mean?”
She’s started this. Opening the door to this topic. How can I not walk through it? “It means I doubt you’ve had three orgasms in a row. And I’m talking about back-tightening, legs-quaking, screaming-for-mercy orgasms.” I look at her long and hard, raking my eyes over her body. “The reason you can break up with people and remain friends with them is because whatever you did together was sadly forgettable.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re a real ass sometimes. At least the people I’ve been with care about me. Can you say the same? I don’t think so.”
Touché. She is right, which bothers me, even though it never did before. “So testy. You need to get laid—the right way.”
“And you need a friend—one you don’t f—have sex with.”
“Fuck. Say it. It’s the first step toward good sex for you.”
“I have no problem with the word,” she argues back with bravado. “Fuck you. Fuck your opinion of my sex life. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. See, I’m perfectly fine with it.”
“You just made that my favorite word.”
