Flirting with Forever: A Hot Romantic Comedy(34)

He was angry about something but I couldn’t fathom what.

“Is Riley okay?” I asked.

“Fine. Doing homework.” He waved vaguely in the direction of his house. “Were you going to tell me what you do for a living at some point?”

“Excuse me?”

“The sex articles. Were you going to mention that?”

I crossed my arms, my defenses springing up. “What are you implying? I never lied to you about my job and I certainly wasn’t hiding it from you. It never came up in conversation.”

“Yes, it did.”

“When?”

He opened his mouth as if to reply but closed it again.

“We’ve never had a conversation about what we do for a living,” I said. “I only know you’re a tattoo artist because Riley mentioned it. Have you been hiding your profession from me?”

“No. I don’t have anything to hide.”

“Neither do I. I write adult content for an adult audience. I would have told you exactly what I do if you’d have asked.”

“What did you tell Riley?”

“About my job? That I write a column.”

“Did you share it with her? Tell her to read it?”

Anger bubbled up from the pit of my stomach making my cheeks flush. “No, I did not tell your thirteen-year-old child to read my column.”

“Then why the fuck was she parading around school in skimpy pajamas today?”

Oh my god, she’d done it. “Was she?”

“See.” He pointed an accusatory finger at me. “You do know what’s going on. What did you tell her to do?”

“I didn’t tell her to do anything other than stop giving power to kids who aren’t worthy of her.”

“Wait, what?”

“If you want to know what’s going on in her life, you’ll have to ask her. It’s not my story to tell. But the pajamas were her idea.”

“Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth. “She talks to you and the next thing I know, she’s sneaking a tank top and short shorts to school so she can wear them in front of some little shit named Ryan. And then I see your article talking about using sexy pajamas to initiate sex. My kid is too young for fingering, Nora. Way too fucking young.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “You actually think I was trying to help your daughter get some kid to finger her?”

He winced, turning away like I’d just held up a piece of rotten meat and told him he had to eat it.

“Don’t say that.”

“I didn’t bring it up, you did. I didn’t encourage Riley to do anything sexual. We weren’t even talking about boys. How do you know Ryan is a boy?”

“It’s a boy name.”

“I used to work with a girl named Ryan.” I stepped closer. “And let me reiterate, I did not encourage Riley to do anything sexual. That’s not what we were talking about.”

“Then what the fuck were you talking about?”

“Someone made fun of her and hurt her feelings. I told her to own it. Show them they couldn’t hurt her.”

He stared at me, his mouth slightly open. Without a word, he turned, as if he were going to walk out.

But I wasn’t finished.

“You can think whatever you want about what I do. It doesn’t matter to me. I write about sex hoping to make a difference in women’s lives. To give them a vocabulary to talk about their wants and desires with their partners. To help them take charge of their sexual lives and give them ways to become happier and more fulfilled in their relationships.”

He opened his mouth to reply but I kept going.

“I’m not offended if you think what I write is trash. But I am offended that you think I’d push it on your thirteen-year-old. Just because I don’t have kids doesn’t mean I don’t realize there are boundaries you don’t cross with other people’s children.”

“She’s my daughter and it’s my job to protect her.”

“Of course it is. But you don’t have to protect her from me.”

He shook his head, like he didn’t believe me, and stormed out.

I gaped at the partially open door. Had he seriously just come over here to accuse me of giving his daughter inappropriate sex advice?

Unbelievable.

Up until now, I’d thought Dex and I were becoming friends. Despite my resolution to tease him mercilessly, I’d been starting to like him—to see him as more than my hot neighbor.

Now I didn’t know what to think.





An hour later, I gave up on trying to finish working. I was too distracted. Too angry. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to march next door and tell him off or never see his gorgeous face again.

And I was worried. Was he going to tell Riley she couldn’t see me anymore?

I didn’t know what hurt more. No longer being friendly with Dex or with Riley.

Or both.

Another knock on my door—softer this time—interrupted my thoughts.

Was it Dex?

I hated how much I hoped it was—how desperately I craved reconciliation with him. I was all tangled up inside and I didn’t like a man having that kind of power over me.

Putting on my best I’m fine and I don’t need you expression, I answered the door.