Good Girl(12)

Which is ridiculous, but whatever. I dip a chicken finger into a plastic ramekin of honey mustard and listen to what Josh is telling me about his job. He seems interested in me. Not aggressively interested, just normally interested, which is nice.

He's attractive.

He's attentive.

He's available.

I feel nothing.

But maybe I will feel something, if I try harder. Maybe that's how this works. Maybe it's not always instant, blinding, inexplicable lust.

Like it was with Rhys. Why was it so instant with Rhys? So annoyingly instant. The first time I saw him I was in lust with him before he'd even caught me looking at him.

Focus on Josh.

I order another drink and focus. On Josh. Nice Josh. Age-appropriate Josh. Not my boss' boss' boss Josh.

I looked Rhys up last night. Of course I did. Once Payton pried the cutting ruler out of my hand and sent me to bed, I lay in the dark doing internet searches on Rhys Dalton. I'm not sure what I was looking for exactly, it's not as if I was going to find an article about some other girl who embarrassed herself in front of him worse than I did.

Okay, yes, I did look for that article. It doesn't exist, obviously. Then I Googled ‘embarrassing myself in front of my crush’ just to cheer myself up. Two stories in I decided it was best I stop reading in case I was subconsciously storing additional ways to embarrass myself.

Anyway, I didn't find much on Rhys. A few boring business things. I couldn't find a wife or girlfriend, but it's not like he had a Facebook page for me to troll through. The only social account I could find for him was on LinkedIn and that site was really not designed for creeping on your boss. Not in a meaningful way, at least.

He's thirty-four. A little old for me, possibly. But it's not as if I have daddy issues, so I think it's okay. I had two dads growing up. Two perfect dads who adored me and each other. My childhood was the opposite of dysfunctional. It was totally functional, in a nonconventional way. So no, I don't have any need to be daddied and if I want to lose my virginity to a man who's possibly a little too old for me, that's really my decision, isn't it?

"Lydia?" Josh is asking me something and I'm not paying the best of attention. Because I'm thinking about freaking Rhys.

"Yes?" I smile at Josh and renew my effort to pay attention to him. He has nice hair. And he's nice. And he's speaking to me and would probably respond if I offered him whatever he wanted instead of just staring at me as if I had not just made a very generous offer.

"Darts?" He nods to a dart board near our table. He has kind eyes and he seems genuinely interested in my response, in me saying yes.

"Sure." I place my beer on a coaster and tap the tabletop with my hand. "Let's do it."

By it, I mean darts not sex. For now. But maybe I'll change my mind. Not like tonight, let's not get crazy. But maybe Josh will grow on me. Maybe we'll become friends. He's sort of funny and I do like him. Maybe the magical and elusive lust cupid will strike, you never know.





Eight





RHYS



"Why in the fuck are we at a bar in Henderson?" Canon physically grimaces and shakes his head in confusion as I slide my car into a parking spot in front of Hennigan's.

"My buddy owns the place. I told him I'll stop in to check it out."

"Yeah. Yeah, you did. Which is why you brought your cousin here last weekend."

Fuck. I forgot he knew about that.

"It's just a quick drink, Canon," I say, deflecting. "We'll go to Strippers Strippers Strippers as soon as we're done."

"Don't be an asshole. You know it's called Double Diamonds, not Strippers Strippers Strippers. And you also know it's my favorite of the strip clubs. Have some respect for my hobbies."

I stop, meeting Canon at the bumper of my car as I hit the remote lock for the car. He's not wrong. I have no idea what the fuck we're doing at a bar in Henderson either. Not really. Am I hoping I might see her again? I know I'll see her again. On Monday, at work. Where I will keep my kisses and my filthy thoughts to myself because she's twenty-fucking-two. And my employee.

Yeah.

Twenty-two.

I'm a pervert for even thinking about her. An asshole for using her employment file to find the information in the first place. It's just… why did she have to offer that? Whatever else you want. I want. Of course I want. I'm not a saint for fuck's sake.

I'd be a liar in addition to a deviant if I didn't admit that the relative inexperience that comes with her age is a huge turn-on. So fucking confident in my ability to be better than anything she'd have experienced thus far.

"Canon, what is that rule about age limits?"

"What rule?"

I pocket the key fob and run a hand over the back of my neck in agitation. "The thing about how young you can go? It's half your age plus five, right? God, why am I asking you?" I twist my neck and stare at the entrance to Hennigan's.

The look he gives me makes me sorry I brought it up. I should have asked my cousin—that pretentious British bastard would've had the answer.

"It's half plus seven, not five. And it's for dating, not fucking. There are no rules for fucking, except that she's eighteen. Though eighteen is really, really questionable and if you're fucking a teenager I need you to stop and evaluate your life."