Page 17 of Ready to Snap
I open the swinging door, and thinking back to stories Lucas has told me about occasionally dating nonbinary and transgender partners, I hate that it’s divided by male and female. Who the hell cares what’s between someone’s legs? All we want to do is take a piss or wash our hands—with the exception of all of the times I witnessed women going in pairs. I assume they are either gossiping, reapplying makeup, or fucking each other. Of course the latter is hot, but it’s almost always the former. I’m a bit jealous—I’d love to hear juicy gossip about someone’s date. As a man, it’s not as if I can talk about how tonight is going while standing in front of a urinal.
I hurry to meet Elle out front, where she’s typing away on her phone. It could be work, but my money’s on her messaging Nora. I keep my distance, admiring her gorgeous curves, and stuff my hands in my pockets to resist wrapping my arms around her. The brief seconds she was pressed against me, ittook every ounce of control to not kiss her. She’s giving me one night, and I’m not going to blow it by moving too fast.
A quick glance over her shoulder confirms my suspicion. The contact says Nora, but I don’t read her messages, no matter how tempting. “Are they pulling it around?”
Elle fumbles her phone, and it clatters to the ground. “Shit, Darling! You scared me.” I bend to pick it up and hand it to her. “Thanks. And yes, he said five minutes. I, uh, should probably get home. It’s been a long day. As soon as your car is here, I’ll get a cab.”
My brows pinch. What changed in the last few minutes? “I can drive you home, if that’s what you want.”
“You don’t have to.”
My truck pulls up, and I open the passenger door. “Get in, gorgeous. If you want to go home, I’ll take you—after you eat something.”
She checks to the left and right, then lowers her voice. “We shouldn’t be seen together.”
“Then you’re coming home with me, and I’m ordering pizza for delivery.”
“You’re relentless, Darling.”
“Indeed I am.” I wink, then nod to the inside of the cab. “Come on. I don’t bite… much.”
CHAPTER 6
ELLE
The ride to Will’s place is quiet, the radio filling the awkward silence. I’d give anything for him to spar with me. This could be an epic mistake—or the best night of my life—but I’m leaning toward mistake.
He hands me his phone, and when I don’t take it, he places it in my lap. “Code is zero-one-one-nine. Order whatever you’d like, just be sure to get me a large pepperoni pizza.”
“I… um… okay?”
“Is something wrong?”
“Yeah, you could say that.” A humorless laugh bubbles out of me as I type in the code. “You must not have anything incriminating on here if you’re trusting me with it.”
“Just a few tasteful nudes I took in front of a mirror this morning. Oh, and you may find texts with the guys where I refer to you asIce Queen. But other than that, feel free to snoop.” He glances over once before returning his attention to the road.
“First, I better not find out you’re keeping naked pictures of yourself on your phone. The damage control I’d have to do…” I shake my head. “But also, why Ice Queen? I’ve never been anything but nice to you since you came to New York.”
“Ifthat’swhat you call nice, I’d hate to get on your shit list.”
“Sorry I didn’t let you beat anyone up or traipse around town looking for the next hole to get your dick wet,” I huff. “You had to keep a low profile to take the heat off of you. It’s not like you admitted why you attacked your own linebacker.”
“Is that what you really think of me? That I’m some kind of playboy?”
“Basically,” I wince. “You came with a reputation.” I search his apps for food delivery and am impressed everything is all organized by category. There isn’t a single dating app, but he has over three thousand unread text messages. Did he delete the one we’re both on? “When was the last time you checked your texts?”
“Most of them are companies trying to sell me something. Click on it.” I do, and sure enough, they are all marketing texts and my eyes zero in on one with confirmation for flower delivery. “Do you order a lot of flowers?”
“Yep,” he replies brightly, popping the ‘p.’
I roll my eyes and mutter, “And you wonder why you have a reputation.”
“No, I send them to my mom every Sunday that I don’t see her.”
“Really?” I shift in my seat to face him. There isn’t a hint of amusement in his expression. “You’re serious.”
“She’s an incredible woman. My dad sends flowers to her office every time he has to work out of town. He’s done itsince I was a kid. So when I grew up, I started sending her some for the house when I missed Sunday dinners. That way, she always had fresh flowers at work and at home during the season.”
