Page 10 of Entangled
“Yup.” I launch into my tale, unable to keep from smiling at the sound of Dahlia’s laughter.
When my sister laughs, it’s a full body experience, complete with snorts, tears, hand claps, leg kicks, etc. Her laugh is often more hilarious than the original source of what’s funny. It’s next to impossible to be depressed around Dahlia. Her infectious sense of humor is one of the things I love most about her personality.
“Anyway, I’m exhausted,” I announce, once I’ve shared all sister-appropriate portions of my story. “I need some sleep before I gotta do it all again tomorrow.”
“OK, go to bed. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Sleep tight, Buzz.” She makes several exaggerated bee sounds and cackles. “Don’t let the butt plugs bite.”
* * *
“Lookslike another busy day ahead of you, Hank.” Joe saunters across the warehouse with his clipboard and hands me a list of addresses. “Some new. Mostly repeats.”
I give him a thumbs-up and stuff the page into my pocket. I’m too tired to correct him. I’m lucky if I got three hours of sleep after yesterday’s shenanigans. And those hours were far from restful. After passing out on my couch, I tossed and turned until my aching back and racing mind forced me to get up.
For once, it wasn’t all nightmares. If having my cock in my hand during my shower was any indication, my subconscious had more important things to worry about than my usual barrage of trauma. Guilt slinks down my spine, remembering how good it felt to come. It’s been ages since I last had sex. That was one of the first things that went south in my marriage after I left the Marines. It was really fucking hard to get hard when the dark memories gripped me.
Funny, I had no trouble this morning.
“Are you listening, Hank?” Joe’s voice cuts into my naughty daydream.
“I’m sorry, what?” I clear my throat and shift position.
“I asked how you made out at the Punzel place. The daughter give you any trouble?”
I stiffen, wondering if she called to complain. He doesn’t look like he’s about to fire me, so I slowly shake my head. “Uh, no. She was fine.”
“Good. The guy who previously had Tony’s route lost a package of rubies. We’re talking fifty thousand dollars in gemstones. He claimed he delivered them, but I did some investigating, and it turns out he never even went to her place. He lied and forged her signature.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. Oh, and he was drinking on the job too. I fired him, obviously, but she threw quite the fit. Anyway, that’s old news.” Joe claps my shoulder. “Figured I’d give you the head’s up because you’re going there again today.”
4
ROWAN
Mood Music: “Drumming Song” by Florence + The Machine
Did I miss him?
I click on the tracking number for the twenty-seventh time today. According to Ryder Parcel Services, my package is out for delivery, which is exactly what their website said when I first checked at six-thirty this morning. I couldn’t care less about what’s inside the box.
The disgruntled—too gorgeous for his own good—veteran who’s going to bring it to me? That is a totally different story. One I shouldn’t even attempt to read, but here I am, flipping pages like I have a clue about men.
I got up early and did my hair and makeup. I even put on some cute clothes in anticipation of his arrival. I figured he’d show up around the same time as yesterday, but it’s heading for seven o’clock in the evening, and there’s still no sign of the broody driver.
I canceled my work calls, kept the music off, and turned my phone’s ringer all the way up in case he needed to reach me about the delivery. Or so I keep telling myself. The truth is, I embarrassed myself enough for a lifetime yesterday and have no desire for a repeat occurrence. Which is highly possible, given the nature of my cam girl side hustle.
One thing is for damn sure, the silence is making me stir crazy. My apartment—what I prefer to call my wing of my father’s estate—is spotless and smells amazing. Probably has something to do with the cornbread muffins I baked and pot of chili simmering on the stove. You know, just in case.
Eugene, my Maine Coon, sits on his cat tower across the room, silently judging me. Paws tucked; the massive white beast flicks the tip of his tail like he’s shaking a finger at me for being foolish.
“I get it. I’m pathetic. Now, get off your high horse and come show me some affection.” Eugene squints his citrine-colored eyes but doesn’t budge. “Fine. Be that way.”
My phone’s deafening ring makes me jump. Eugene dives off his perch and escapes upstairs, his claws scraping the hardwood with his frantic retreat. I snatch the device and unlock the screen. It’s Esme, my boss at The River, the New York City water-themed kink spa where I work remotely as a cam girl.
