If You Stay (Beautifully Broken, #1)(81)

“You sound like a creepy used car salesman right now,” I announce. She glares at me with her Realtor of the Year for the Greater Las Vegas Area stare.

“I guess,” I say with a sigh.

She grins triumphantly.

“Not the enthusiasm I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.”

********

“Mom, I really need this. Won’t you at least consider it?”

Spatula in hand, I turn to look at my daughter. “Sophie, do you have any idea how much a private swim instructor probably costs?”

“No, but I’ll get Dad to pay half and it won’t be that bad. Mom, all the swimmers that are Olympic hopefuls have their own private coach. You know I’ll never make it anywhere with Mr. Sullivan.”

“Mr. Sullivan does a perfectly fine job, Soph. It’s because of him that you won State last year.”

“I know, Mom. But that’s not good enough if I ever hope to make it to the Olympics. Please. At least say you’ll consider it. Kayla even knows a guy who was on her college swim team. She says he’ll do it until I can get good enough to qualify for another one. That probably means he’ll be cheaper, too.”

“Sophie—”

“Don’t ‘Sophie’ me, Mom. You treat me like I’m some airheaded kid. I’m more responsible, more dedicated than any of the girls my age. I never get in trouble and my grades are almost perfect. Do this one thing for me. Pleeeeeease.”

I look into the wide, pleading hazel eyes that are so like my own. This child is my one true weakness, my very own brand of Kryptonite.

“Fine. Get me some information on the guy Kayla knows. We’ll start from there. But you are asking your father, young lady!”

Her smile is like a thousand watt bulb; beautiful, young and innocent. So like mine twenty years ago, back before Rick the Dick made me resent anything with a penis.

“I will. Thank you so much, Mom.” She leans across the island and pecks my cheek.

She really is a good kid. I just have to ignore the parts of her that seem like Rick sometimes, like the crease she gets in her mouth when she glares at me. Or the way she stands when she is annoyed, with her hand on her hip and the glazed, pissed off look in her eyes. Her eyes are mine, but that particular look is Rick through and through.

I sigh. She’s half Rick, but she’s half me, too. And that makes her awesome. She’s a good kid. And she’s mine. Rick can go to f*cking hell.

I sigh proudly. Sara would be proud of me. I might not have said the F word, but I definitely thought it without flinching.

That’s f*cking progress.

I grin.

********

I’m unpacking my briefcase from work the next day, looking for a file, when I come across the plastic bag holding the enormous dildo Sara bought for me.

Holy freaking hell.

I feel my cheeks get hot just thinking about it, much less looking at it.

I pull it out and set it to the side, far away from me. I continue digging around for the file but I find myself glancing again and again at the package. Then a sexy grin flits through my head.

Shade. What the hell kind of gigolo name is Shade?

Even as the thought runs through my head, I’m thinking it’s a damn good one. It’s a dark and sexy name for a dark and sexy guy. I had practically licked the computer screen when I saw him smiling at me. He’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Even if he is close to half my age.

You’re not forty yet, Allison, I remind myself.

At thirty-five, though, some days I feel like I might as well be. And it’s for just that reason I’m considering Sara’s proposition. I don’t want this to be the sum total of my life. A single mother, divorcee and marketing executive with nothing left but my job and bitterness. I don’t want the fun part to be over. That would be like admitting defeat, like letting Rick steal all the best years of my life. And I refuse to let that happen.

Surely the best is yet to come. Surely.

Spontaneously, I push everything off the bed. I try not to cringe at the mess of papers I’ll have to clean up later and focus on tearing open the box containing the vibrator instead.

It looks like a ten inch totem pole and my fingers are shaking. I’m such a chicken shit.

I grit my teeth and return my attention to the penis in my hand. It has carvings along its pink-colored length, with a squirrel and a beaver on either side of the base. But they aren’t carved. They’re like tiny animals protruding from the bottom.

[page]All of Bambi’s friends, I think obtusely.

I can only imagine that the beaver goes in the front to stimulate one side while the squirrel’s tail goes in…the back.

In the freaking back??

Even in the privacy of my bedroom, I blush.

Holy hell, Sara! What are you trying to do to me? A freaking squirrel tail? Could this be considered beastiality in any way, shape or form? Oh my god.

I dig out five AAA batteries from the bottom of the bag and insert them into the vibrator then switch it on. I giggle when the head of the plastic penis starts to rotate in a tight circle, and the beaver and squirrel start to pulsate.

Good lord.

Shaking my head at my friend’s sex toy of choice, I turn it off and take it to the bathroom to wash it.

I let the water warm up and lather my hands with antibacterial soap before I grab it. I run my fingers along the soft yet firm plastic and let my mind wander. I find myself thinking about Shade again, which is exactly what my friend, the freaking devil herself, had in mind.