Page 55 of The Worst Pucking Deal

Slowing my breathing, I force my thoughts to stay on track instead of running free and making me even more anxious. There’s always been multiple steps to conquer, but right now I’m doing the opposite. I’ve jumped in at the deep end, attempting to tackle it all at once. That’ll never work. I need to take it one step at a time. Starting with getting ready. I can do that.

I sit up and reach for my cocktail dress, and before my mind can conjure up things I need to lock down tight and never think about again, I get dressed.

My emerald green dress hugs my curves in all the right places, the luxurious fabric draping elegantly from my slender frame. The neckline plunges daringly, exposing my belly button. Delicate straps crisscross over my shoulders, holding the top together, while a gold chain accents the plunging neckline, adding a touch of sophistication.

As I move, the dress catches the light, revealing subtle hints of shimmer and sparkle woven into the fabric. The rich, jewel-toned hue complements my fiery red hair and brings out the depth of my green eyes. The fitted bodice cinches at the waist before flowing gracefully into a tight skirt that reaches only to my mid-thigh. With every step, the skirt clings to my curves, accentuating my figure in a way I know Sawyer can’t ignore.

There’s no way I’d ever wear underwear in this dress. It would be sacrilegious to do so. Not only because it has an inbuilt bra, but the lines from a thong just aren’t sexy. I still want to tell him he isn’t the reason I’m going commando. Just so he doesn’t get any ideas, like thinking I’m gonna continue to let him boss me around.

Once I’m wearing my black pumps, which give me a couple of extra inches to work with, I finish the outfit with some jewelry—gold hoop earrings, and fifteen gold finger rings spread across one hand.

My phone pings with an incoming text.

Sawyer: I’m coming up.

Sighing, I put my phone, lipstick, and other essentials in my black clutch and head for the door. While I’m debating what coat to wear, he rings the doorbell, proving he can be civil when he wants to. Asshole.

I end up wearing my knee-length, black coat since you can never go wrong with black, right? Once it’s buttoned, I open the door, greeting Sawyer with a sharp nod.

“Are you ready?” he rasps in that overly sexy voice of his.

“Yep,” I say, trying to sound like I’m in charge. But the sad reality is it comes out as a croak because… damn.

Sawyer stands before me, his presence commanding attention as he exudes confidence and allure. He has pulled his shoulder-long hair back into a sleek man-bun, adding a touch of rugged charm to his appearance. Each strand falls perfectly into place, framing his chiseled features and drawing attention to his intense, dark eyes.

Dressed in a tailored dark green suit that fits him perfectly, Sawyer cuts a striking figure. Every detail of the suit highlights his body, from the sharp lines of the jacket to the perfectly pressed trousers that hug his bulging frame.

His long beard is neatly combed and trimmed, adding masculinity to his otherwise polished appearance. And fuck me, the way it accentuates the contours of his jawline is… it’s turning me on, and making me want to lick his cheekbones.

As our eyes meet, I can see desire burning in his gaze, and I’m pretty sure the same lust is reflected in my eyes. “You look stunning,” Sawyer says, his voice low and husky, his dark eyes lingering on me with a mixture of admiration and desire.

I want to laugh since he doesn’t know what I’m wearing under the coat, and he already saw my hair and makeup when he was here only an hour ago. “Thank you,” I reply, licking my lips.

With a nod, Sawyer gestures toward the stairs. “Shall we?” he asks, his tone casual yet tinged with an undercurrent of anticipation.

The words sound so oddly stiff and formal from him that I let out a nervous giggle. I quickly pull myself together and nod as I take the first step. When we reach the bottom, Sawyer takes my hand, squeezing it. Though it’s nothing more than what I’d expect, it doesn’t feel like a role he’s playing when he looks at me. And when he squeezes my hand a second time, it almost feels like a reassurance that we’re in this together. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

Sawyer

We arrive at the venue where the sponsor event is being held. Sometimes it’s at the arena, but this time Tom wanted to go all out and make sure there was enough room for everyone. Which is why we’re finding ourselves at a place with a valet that doesn’t look old enough to be driving.

“One scratch on my car and I’ll hold you personally responsible,” I threaten, throwing the keys to the boy.

“Y-yes, sir,” he stammers.

Lucia makes a clicking sound with her tongue and rolls her eyes. “I’ll pay you to knock off the side mirror,” she smirks, not looking away from me.

I arch an eyebrow at her. “I’m not sure you can afford it, bunny.” Her nostrils flare, but I ignore it and take her hand, lacing our fingers together. I watch the guy drive away, grinding my teeth while he grinds the gears. “Fuck’s sake,” I curse.

Lucia pats my arm. “It’s not like you can’t afford to fix what he damages,” she sing-songs.

“That’s not the point,” I retort. “If he can’t drive a fucking stick, he shouldn’t have a job parking cars. That would be like me trying to get a job at NASA without knowing anything about space.”

Her laughter stuns me, as in actually makes me come to a halt. It’s not the polite sound I’ve heard around the arena. No, it’s more like the cackle you’d expect from a Disney villain. I shake my head and ignore her little outburst, chalking it up to… yeah, I got fucking nothing. Nerves? PMS?

We slip through the entrance, and after handing over my coat, I help Lucia with hers. “Fuck me,” I praise when the scrap of a dress comes into view.

She runs her hands down the skirt. “You like?” she asks, her tone low and sultry.

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