Page 17 of Dealing Dirty
We coast out of the parking lot and onto the highway in total silence. For once, the man who never stops talking is utterly quiet. His knee bounces, creating a mind-numbing scratching noise that slowly drives me insane. I glare at him a moment longer before reaching for the knob to turn up the radio, and our hands collide as I touch the small dial.
“Sorry,” we mutter at the same time, and then again, “Go for it.”
We continue to sit in silence while I stare at him wide-eyed and speechless, watching that dimple of his come out to play.
“It’s not that funny,” I mutter, crossing my arms.
He ignores me, guiding his rumbling vehicle off the highway and toward some neighborhood streets. Houses glide by us, and I nearly gasp at the sight. I’m floored that people can afford to live in the likes of them. Some are big enough to be considered mansions, while others appear to be at least four bedrooms. I sigh as tennis courts and other fancy amenities peek through their fences.
I’m going to know what it’s like to live like the rich someday.
The tip of Derrick’s slender finger sliding across my outer thigh startles me. I swat at him blindly, keeping my attention trained on the window.
He does it again, and I whip my head around. “Stop that,” I hiss, but he does no such thing. Instead, he continues to drive with one hand on the steering wheel while the other swipes out to touch me again.
“Lo juro por Dios, Derrick. If you don’t stop touching me…”
His lips twitch. It’s clear he enjoys annoying the ever-loving shit out of me.
The amusement is gone as swiftly as it’d come as he says, “You know, you were begging for my touch not so long ago.” The air in the cab cracks with sensuality, making the words heady as they weave around me.
My insides turn melty, and for a split-second, I entertain the idea of jumping across the cab and straddling him. Not ideal since we’re still in motion, but also because the sobering reason why Derrick and I don’t work hits me like a ton of bricks. The man’s nothing short of genuine, and who am I to taint him with a few quick lays? That’s all I’m willing to offer, and this sweet, sexy man deserves better than that.
It nearly kills me to say it, but I’ve got to fortify a wall between us. There isn’t a chance in hell I’m giving up my freedoms or dreams, even for him.
“That night was a mistake, Derrick.”
The smile on his face falters, slowly pulling downward. He stares at me like he doesn’t recognize me.
“A mistake,” he parrots with a huff.
I jerk forward when he throws the gearshift into park, catching myself with a hand over the dash. His movements are stiff and quick when he grabs the handle and pops the door open.
“Derrick, wait!” I fumble with my seat belt, then the door handle, and stumble out of his truck. Dread skitters over my skin as I race to catch up with him. He doesn’t bother looking back at me—not that I blame him.
My breathing is erratic when I reach him. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just—”
“Forget it.” He presses the doorbell, staring at the brightly painted door. His voice is stern enough that I know I’ve truly pissed him off.
Cassidy swings the door open with a warm, welcoming smile, and doing exactly as he suggested, I force a matching one to my lips.
The salty tang of spaghetti sauce has my mouth watering. Cassidy and I exchange a tight hug while Derrick grumbles, leaving us to sit at Jack’s massive kitchen island.
Their place is stunning. Jack’s house is smaller than the ones I saw on the way here, but it’s gorgeous all the same. Of course, Cassidy has stamped her signature style all over the house with color-coordinating decorations and pictures of us and our work fam scattered about on the counters and walls.
“I love what you’ve done with the place!” Pulling out random drawers, I search for her Bluetooth speaker. If I’m going to have any luck shoving down my emotions after that conversation, it’ll be with the help of reggaetón.
I finger the edge of the framed picture sitting on the counter. In the photo, Jack has Cassidy wrapped in a bear hug, and they’re kissing, being disgustingly cute.
“Jack took me to float the Guadalupe at the end of August. Oh my gosh. It was so fun, but unbearably hot,” she says from beside me.
I quirk a brow. “I’m sure it was.”
Her head falls back with the force of her laugh. “Why are you always so dirty?”
Once I get my phone connected and my favorite song starts playing, Jack motions for me to sit with him and Derrick at the kitchen island.
A blanket of darkness drifts over their faces and my senses go on high alert. “What’s wrong?”
