Page 87 of Betting on the Bad Boy
I hunkered down against the cold and trudged across the quad to the parking lot. I’d better get a move on, or I’d be late for my day job. They’d be announcing promotions and new assignments in the next month or two. If I wanted to fast track, I needed to make every moment, every effort, every project count.
Tameka had given me a rave review for the work I’d been doing in the salon with my team from Tempest. Now, if my current clients could be as generous with the praise, I ought to be in good shape.
Maybe I could find a stretch of land outside of DC or somewhere in upstate New York where Meemaw would feel at home. It would put her closer to whatever new office I’d be working from. I could have the best of both worlds. The one thing I hadn’t quite figured out yet was how Faith might fit into those plans.
The bar had been unusuallyquiet for a Thursday night. I powered through my shift and made my way upstairs to my place to heat up some leftover Chinese food. I was always too wired to go straight to bed when I got done working. It was two in the morning, but I didn’t have any meetings the next day, so I planned on working from home.
Faith had been on my mind all night. Hell, all week. It didn’t help that Meemaw kept calling and asking when I would bring Faith down for another dinner. She probably just wanted to make sure Cheryl didn’t try to sink her claws into me again. Like I’d ever let that happen.
This whole thing with Faith had me on edge. I was used to being in complete control, never letting anyone get close. But Faith had somehow breached the razor wire I’d erected around my heart, and I found myself wanting to be a little bit more to her than just a twice-weekly booty call.
I yanked the copy ofCarnal Knowledgeout of my backpack and sat down at the table to dig into my leftover chow mein. If Brittany was right and the guy eventually turned on the charm and won the girl over, that’s the part I wanted to find.
I got a little distracted when I came across the sex in the mailroom closet. Yeah, that part was pretty good. How many women read this kind of stuff? Did they get as turned on as I did just by reading a couple hundred words on a page? Based on the heated conversation between the women this afternoon, that had to be a yes.
As I shoveled forkful after forkful of noodles into my mouth, my eyes devoured the inner workings of a woman’s mind. It was awesome stuff, and I knew Faith wouldn’t be able to resist it. But was I willing to try? Something more than just great sex existed between us, whether she was ready to admit it or not. It wasn’t like I was looking for a long-term commitment.
If Meemaw had taught me one thing over the years, it was to take my chances when they came up. My dad provided a perfect example of that. Meemaw’s words played through my head. “You never know how much time you have left, my boy, but you can choose who you want to spend it with.”
The whole ordeal with her being in the hospital had thrown me for a real loop. Meemaw wasn’t going to be around forever. As much as I didn’t want to think about that, it was a fact. Maybe it was time for me to open up a sliver and think about letting someone else in. I’d been protecting myself for so long though, would I even know how?
I got up, put my dirty dishes in the sink, and grabbed a notebook and pen. If I was thinking about launching an assault to win Faith over, I’d have to take some very good notes.
CHAPTER 43
Faith
I rolledover and looked at the clock. Almost noon. I’d been fighting a cold all week, but today was the worst. My head hurt, my nose was rubbed raw from hundreds of tissues, and every muscle in my body ached. I’d been spending most of my waking hours trying to figure out how to handle my new identity crisis. It seemed like only a matter of time before another page turned up, and I still didn’t know the best way to handle the situation.
Mr. Darcy hopped up on the bed and walked around in circles, finally settling in next to my side. “Hey, buddy. I’ll get up in a minute.”
The cat purred and curled up into a ball. I stretched my arms over my head, then slowly sat up in bed. Wadded-up tissues littered the floor, and my nightstand held an assortment of half-full water glasses and abandoned mugs of tea.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so awful. I lifted the edge of the comforter to fling it off. Somehow, today it weighed a ton. Freed from my layers of blankets, I shifted my legs over the side of the bed and felt around on the floor for my slippers. There was one. My other foot tapped around on the carpet but couldn’t find the match.
As I stood up, a wave of dizziness washed over me, and I grabbed onto the nightstand to steady myself. Every part of me hurt. I gently shook my head to rid it of the pounding sound between my ears. Shaking, I released my grip on the nightstand and managed to stand.
The pounding continued. Someone was actually banging on my door.
“Oh, crap. I can’t deal with this.”
“Faith?” The knocking continued.
I shuffled my one slippered and one bare foot toward the front door.Shuffle, whap. Shuffle, whap.
Knock, knock, knock.“Faith?”
“I’m coming.” I tried to yell, but it came out more like a croak. Reaching the door, I peered through the peephole. Dante stood on my stoop with two brown paper bags in hand. I slumped against the door for support. “Go away.”
“What? Faith, are you in there?” The knocking paused.
I couldn’t let him see me like this. My voice cracked as I tried to speak louder. “I said go away.”
“Jess told me you’re sick.”
“I feel like crap. Go home.”
“I’ve got tissues.” He pulled a box out of the bag and waved it in front of the peephole.
