The Lineup(30)

I point my finger at her. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’m okay with that. Now, let’s get down to business. We have a lot to cover, and I want to know your ideas for the photoshoot. Joseph only had one requirement, that you don’t force him to match what you’re wearing.”

“What are you talking about? We look good matching.” Ever since I can remember, my mom dressed Joseph and me together, matching like two goddamn angels. When I was young, I remember being jealous of his walker, asking my mom if I could have one too. Joseph still makes fun of me for that.

“He made it known he doesn’t want to have to match with his little brother anymore. He’s a grown-ass man.”

“Little brother? He’s two minutes older than I am.”

“Are you really going to cry about matching with your brother?”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Maybe.”

“You’re impossible.”

So I’ve been told.





Carson: It’s beautiful here. All you can drink pi?a coladas.

Jason: I’m going to puke, I’m so upset.

Carson: Why do you always have to go to the extreme?

Jason: I have emotions, let me feel them.

Carson: You feel them too hard.

Jason: My dick is hard just seeing your feet in the sand.

Carson: ^^^ and that’s why you have two friends.

I laugh to myself and turn the corner to my apartment, dinner dangling in a bag off my forearm as I text Carson back. One of the things I love about my “two friends” is that I can be a dick to the extreme, over-dramatic, and effeminate just to get a reaction from them—because I’m that guy—and they’re still friends with me.

Jason: You know you love it when my dick gets hard.

Carson: This might shock you but I really don’t.

I look up and catch George, holding the door open for me. I give him a tip of my cap. “Thanks, man.”

“Any time, Mr. Orson. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

I spot the open doors of the elevator and jog toward them as they start to close. “Hold the elevator.” A small hand blocks the doors, giving me enough time to make it inside.

“Tha—”

My voice falls short when I almost collide with Dottie in the elevator. The look on her face tells me she wasn’t expecting to see me, and I’m sure I’m mirroring the same shock, because she’s the last person I expected to see after our interaction a few days ago.

“What are you doing here?” she sneers as the doors shut behind me.

“Nice to see you too. I’m doing great, thanks.”

She folds her arms across her chest, and that’s when I take her in. Pressed wide-legged black pants that crawl up her hips and button above her belly button. A tight red and black shirt that covers her arms is tucked into her waistline, framing perfectly how small she is. Thin suspenders connect from her pants over her shoulders, and she’s paired the whole ensemble with black heels.

Business sexy . . . really sexy.

I want to play with those suspenders.

I want to snap them over her tits to see if I can make her nipples hard.

Bet her nipples are like fucking torpedoes.

“What are you staring at?”

“Your boobs,” I answer honestly. “Want me to stare at something else?”

“Yes, for God’s sake, have some class.”

“Eh, having class is boring.”

“You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”

I look from side to side and then whisper, “I live here.”

Groaning in frustration, she clenches her fists at her side and says, “I’m aware, but you’re supposed to be on vacation.”

“Keeping track of me, sweet cheeks? That’s cute.”

“Don’t call me that, and no, I’m watching Emory’s plants while they’re away.”

“Plant-sitting?” I scoff. “People are so weird.”

“Why aren’t you on vacation?”

Persistent. I wonder if she’s as relentless in the boardroom. For some reason, that pulls up an image in my head: Dottie naked, bent over her desk, demanding to be fucked from behind until the task is complete. My fingers digging into her hips, smashing back into me until she cries out my name in sweet surrender.

Huh. Being fucking horny around this woman is dangerous. At least her caustic fa?ade is enough to settle the ol’ dong down. It has been a long-ass time since I last got laid though, and I’m not really sure what I can do about fixing that. Random hookups haven’t been my thing for a while now.

I chuckle to myself, which only pisses off the woman next to me.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Whoa.” I pretend to tamp her down with my hand. “Easy there, killer. If you get any more tense you might snap.”

“Whatever,” she answers like the mature woman she is. “Now that you’re here, I don’t have to watch the stupid plants. You can do it.”

“Oh, no can do.” I shake my head. “Plants aren’t my thing.”

“What do you mean plants aren’t your thing? They’re easier than a dog. You just water them.”

“Yeahhh.” I cringe. “All those leaves? Nah, I’m good.”