Bad Intentions (Bad Love #2)(14)

“If you insist,” I say, ducking under his arm that’s braced against the doorframe.

“If I have to be here early with Sutton, then so do you.”

“I heard that!” Sutton yells from somewhere in the kitchen around the corner.

“See you then.”

I’m in the middle of the street, halfway to my car, before I remember that Dare is next door. I stop in my tracks, looking behind me. The Bad Intentions sign glows pink in the night sky, and I can see that the shop is busy, but I don’t see Dare.

I jog back across the street and pluck a fifty-dollar bill from my pocket. I open the door, and a guy with gauges and suspenders walks toward me, smiling, but I wave him off, letting him know I’m not a customer. There are a couple of other guys tattooing, one I recognize from the last time I was here, one I don’t. Dare is sitting on a stool near his station, with his hands behind his head and his legs spread wide.

I walk right up to him, and when he finally sees me, he doesn’t react. Doesn’t seem shocked by my presence. I bend over, getting close to his ear, and whisper, “I don’t need your money.” His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move a muscle, hands still clasped behind his head. I take it a step further than he did and tuck the money inside his jeans, and under his boxer briefs. He raises a brow when my fingers touch the warm skin of his lower, lower stomach.

I pull my hand back and walk away without another word, hearing a damn and who the hell was that mixed with a low whistle and some laughs. I don’t know what Dare’s reaction is, because I don’t look back.

When I get home, the house is empty. I decide to shoot Jess a text.

Me: Where are you?

Jess: Studying.

Me: Liar.

Jess: Well, she does give good brain.

I’m confused for half a second before he sends me a picture of a girl’s blonde head bent over a book with a notebook and pencils scattered around her, unaware that Jess has taken the photo.

Me: Don’t be creepy. By the way, I left a few bucks for you on the counter for lunch tomorrow. I’m probably going to pass out early. Be safe.

Jess: I will. Pleasantville is hella sketchy after dark.

Me: Shut up.

Jess: I’m gonna need a gun if you expect me to survive these streets.

Me: I’m going to bed, now…

Jess: Make sure you lock the door. I hear home invasions are on the rise here.

Such a jackass. I laugh at his ridiculousness, tossing my phone facedown onto my bed. I start to pull my shirt over my head, but my phone rings a second later.

“If you’re calling to tell me you’ve been kidnapped and need ransom money, tell your kidnapper he took the wrong kid. We’re poor.”

“You wouldn’t have to be poor if you’d come back to me.”

My stomach twists at the voice from the other line, and even though I know exactly who it is, I pull the phone away to check the screen, but it doesn’t show the number that I’ve had memorized for the past year. It reads Private.

“How did you get this number?”

“That’s all I get? No, Hello, Eric. I’ve missed you?”

“What do you want?” I ask, trying to sound assertive and unaffected. I don’t want to let him know he can still affect me in any way. He can sniff out when someone is intimidated, and he feeds off it.

“I want you back here. In my house. In my bed.”

I can’t help but laugh. He is literally insane.

“That ship has sailed, Eric. Besides, your bed is big, but it’s not big enough to share with your wife.”

“She’s gone.”

“Bullshit,” I spit.

“She’s…away, getting help. Then she’s going to get her own place once she’s well again.”

I hope that’s the truth, but I can’t believe a word out of Eric’s mouth.

“Where’s Cayden?” I ask quietly.

“He’s here. With me, of course.”

My heart physically hurts when I think about Cayden. At twelve years old, he’s the only innocent in this fucked-up scenario. My throat gets tight when I think about how he must be feeling without his mom. I know better than anyone. The hardest part of leaving Eric was leaving Cayden.

“He misses you, baby. We both do,” Eric says in that soft tone. The one he saves for times like these, when he knows he doesn’t have the upper hand. But sweet-talking won’t work this time.

“I miss him, too,” I say, voice cracking before I steel it. “But you’re fucking delusional if you think I’d ever come back to you.” I hang up the phone before he can respond, and then I stare at the dirty carpet, sucking in a deep breath, trying to escape the guilt that threatens to swallow me whole.

I had an accidental affair with the married father of the child I nannied. There were many casualties, but the one I regret most is Cayden.





* * *





“SO, A FINE ASS FEMALE comes in here and sticks money down your pants like you’re some stripper, then you continue to stare out the window every day for almost a week straight, just to catch a glimpse of her, and there’s nothing going on between you two? That’s the story you’re sticking with?” Cordell asks sarcastically as he cleans his station. Logan paid me a visit last week, and my dick is just now calming down. I was waiting for a client when she came in and stuck her hands down my pants, which made for a very uncomfortable session. Lots of adjusting going on. Lots of distracted thoughts.