Diary of a Bad Boy(75)

I’m not even going to try to deny it, so instead, I lean against the bar and fold my hands together. “Yeah, I do.”

“And she’s a good girl, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit,” Rath says in awe. “I can’t believe you found a girl who can tame you.”

“She’s not taming me,” I say, already sick of this conversation. “I’m just trying to make a difference, you know? Applying myself.”

“You apply yourself fine, but you’re taming and toning down.” He holds up his glass to me. “Good for you. I’m glad to see you’re not living the life of live fast and die hard. I’d like to have my friend around for a while.”

“If I haven’t died yet, I don’t think I ever will.”

Chuckling, Rath nods. “It’s scary how true that is, but seriously, you like her?”

“Yeah. We’re . . . dating.”

“Seriously?” The humor in Rath’s voice dissipates as he asks, “When did this happen?”

“Yesterday.” I chuckle. “Kind of new.”

“Just a little. What happened?”

I shift on my bar stool, my knees growing tight from the bent position. “I don’t know, man.” I rub my jaw. “I couldn’t get her out of my head. I tried, man, did I try hard, but with every attempt, my want for her only grew stronger. Even though it’s terrifying and I’ve never done this before, I knew there was no chance in hell I could walk away. There is something special about her I can’t pinpoint that makes me so goddamn needy whenever she’s around.”

A knowing smile crosses his face. “You really like her, don’t you?”

“I do. I really, really like her.” I blow out a long breath. “Fuck, listen to me being a dickhead in lust.”

“Just hearing you say the word lust makes me want to dry-heave.” He takes a swig of his drink and then sets it on the bar. “What’s happening to us? First Bram, now you. What happened to being bachelors?”

“Aren’t you seeing that Farrah girl?”

“Nah.” He waves me off. “She was just a good time, nothing serious there.”

“Still holding out for whom we shall not talk about?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.

“When I say don’t talk about her, I mean, as a whole, don’t even mention that we don’t talk about her. Fuck, man.”

“Shit, you’re so touchy.” I poke his shoulder. “Loosen up.”

“When did this become about me? We were talking about your love life and the fact that you’re balls deep in a woman who’s one of your clients’ daughter. What are you going to do about that?”

“Nothing.” I shrug as my phone vibrates. “I’ll see where this goes. No use in making a big deal out of it while we’re figuring things out.” Part of me feels okay about Foster though. He’s the one man who’s shown faith in me as a person. But, we’ll see. I pull out my phone and see that it’s a text from Sutton. “Looks like I have to go.” I pat Rath on the back. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait, you’re just going to leave me here?”

“Yup.”

I take off without a second glance, flag down a taxi, and give the guy my cross streets before pulling out my phone to read her text.

Sutton: I’m so tired.

Roark: Rough day at the office?

Sutton: Busy. We were down a person because he had to go coddle a grown-ass man.

Roark: Your dad really did fill you in.

Sutton: He showed me the video of Xavier crying in the dugout. I watched it three times and couldn’t stop laughing. And the world thought Kim Kardashian had an ugly cry face. They have no idea.

Roark: We tried to spin it as him being ultra-sensitive but couldn’t quite make it work.

Sutton: He sobbed over a pop-fly and then yelled into a towel.

Roark: Well aware. It’s been the one flaw in my career, unable to make better use of the situation. At least I could have gotten him a tissue sponsorship like your dad, but he wouldn’t glorify his emotions.

Sutton: It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.

Roark: Changing the subject, how was camp?

Sutton: It was great. You should have heard the cheers when my dad greeted them. I love seeing the looks on the children’s faces, the awe, the admiration. It’s so wonderful to see how the kids look up to him.

Roark: I’m sorry I missed it.

Sutton: Where are you?

Roark: Driving home. Went out with Rath. I didn’t have anything to drink.

Sutton: You don’t have to report to me, Roark.

Roark: I know, but I wanted you to know anyway. I wanted to be present when we talked tonight.

Sutton: Are you planning on calling me?

Roark: Just waiting until I get back to my apartment. Give me a few.





Roark: FaceTime?

Sutton: I don’t have headphones, and I don’t want my dad to hear.

I dial her number, and she answers on the first ring. “Forgot your headphones? Doesn’t seem like a very Sutton-like thing to do,” I tease as I slide into my bed and prop one of my hands under my head.

“It’s not, but then again, that morning this guy kind of broke my heart, so I was off my game.”