Last on the List (Wait With Me #5)(47)

I want him to want me for me…not stupid mind games.

A bang on the door has me sighing with relief as I rush to let Dakota in. When Max’s broad frame steps into the women’s restroom, I turn my back on him and run my hands through my hair.

“I said I needed space,” I exclaim, bracing myself on the sink.

“You said you needed to pee. I gave you time to pee.”

“What are you doing here, Max?” My eyes find him in the mirror. He’s standing next to a women’s tampon dispenser and finally looks human enough for my lust-filled brain to clear. “Did you come here to crash my date?”

He stares back at my reflection. “I came here to check on you. You didn’t reply to my text.”

“I didn’t need a ride home. I thought the lack of response would have made that clear.”

He tilts his head. “I thought we talked about you not texting me.”

“We were referring to Everly, Max…not you!” I turn on my heel to face him.

“Well, let’s change that.” He steps so close to me and adds, “I want you to text me. I like to know what you’re doing.”

“My weekend plans are none of your business!” I snap, hating that his heat is causing my nipples to pebble. I cross my arms over my chest.

His eyes narrow imperceptibly. “You always have secrets.”

“No, no way. You don’t get to gaslight me on this.” I thrust my finger into his hard chest. “You rejected me last week. You ran out of my place like you were on fire. Which means you don’t get to show up on my date and toss out accusations.”

I move to head for the door and get out of the confines of Max’s scent, but before I can grab the handle, he hooks my arm and twirls me around to look at him.

“Why are you running from me? I came here for you.” He has the nerve to look confused.

“Because I don’t see why you’re interested now!” I cry as my gaze focuses on his broad chest. His eyes are too probing. Too curious. Too focused. I can’t look at him when I add the dark truth that swirls in my belly. “I can’t be the type of girl you normally pursue.”

His finger crooks under my chin, forcing me to look up at his angry expression. His nostrils flare when he asks, “What does that mean?”

I feign a casual laugh that I don’t feel. “You’re rich, Max! And you’re successful. You can get any girl you want. You probably sleep with tiny supermodels you can toss over your shoulder. That is not me.”

“I could toss you over my shoulder, Cassandra.”

“And hurt your back in the process,” I jibe at myself. Humor is a defense mechanism I’ve come to rely on my whole life. It gives me power over the narrative of situations, and with power comes confidence. Both of which seem to be eluding me now. With a heavy sigh, I finally say, “I don’t want to be a convenience fuck.”

My voice cracks at the end, and Max’s face contorts with disbelief and another emotion I can’t quite put my finger on. Please, God, don’t let it be pity. I couldn’t stomach it. Tears well in my eyes as I fight to shake this ridiculous emotional reaction that’s overcoming me.

Why am I losing it right now? He’s just a guy!

A loud banging on the door rips me out of my own personal meltdown. “Cozy, are you in there? It’s Dakota. I just saw your text!”

I nearly sob with relief as my best friend comes through for me at just the right time. I scramble away from Max and shakily wrench open the door, nearly falling into my friend’s embrace.

“We’re leaving,” I rush out, not waiting for an answer as I grab my friend’s hand and drag her behind me.

Dakota hooks her thumb over her shoulder. “Am I drunk, or did Jeff get way hotter?”





It’s midnight, and I find myself pacing my bedroom and staring at Cassandra’s tiny cottage glowing down by the creek like the fucking creep I am. Every once in a while, I see her silhouette move through the pulled blinds, and that’s all it takes for my cock to stir in my jeans.

Goddammit, she’s completely unmanned me.

What the fuck am I doing? Did I really barge into the bar and expect her to come home with me?

Yes, yes, I did.

Especially when I sat in that bar for over an hour watching her tolerate that douchebag. She so clearly wasn’t into him. Her body language was obvious. And he just stared at her like a lost puppy begging for a morsel.

She’s too good for him. It’s why he got so drunk. He couldn’t handle being sober in her presence, and when I saw him make one wrong move, I was done watching.

After he was out of the way, I thought everything would click into place. I thought we’d talk out an arrangement that suited both of our needs, and we would be on our way to bone town. Like another business deal.

Jesus. Bone town? I really have been around Cozy too much.

Then she went and called herself a convenience fuck, and I don’t know what happened after that.

When is fucking ever convenient? It’s not. It’s actually a lot of work. And when you find someone you want to fuck, finding time for that isn’t exactly easy either. Especially when she’s your kid’s nanny and a forbidden fruit that you shouldn’t taste, but you just couldn’t help yourself.