“Yeah,” she said, not sparing him a glance, instead licking her thumb, then going back to the task of hand cleaning the toe of her so-called boot. But his damn cock jumped at the quick glimpse of her tongue. “In the lecture today, there were four other people, but I think they decided to go to happy hour instead of the camp out tonight.”
Shit. Dex ran a hand over the back of his neck. It was no surprise. Gage had probably bored the group into a coma with his lectures. No wonder they’d all flaked today. All but this woman. A woman who was still intent on cleaning her boot. Jesus. Well, he had to admire her determination when others had given up so quickly, but did she have to be so…so…
“You realize we’re in the woods, right?” Dex asked, feeling the need to clarify that she was bound to get dirty.
She looked up, and Dex tried—really tried—to look at her face and not down her silky shirt that was currently showing off some full creamy cleavage in a red lace bra.
“Of course,” she said. “But these are my favorite.” She went back to wiping off the boot, and Dex’s head was on the verge of exploding. He knew women like her. Rich, uptown, and uptight. He’d never met her personally, but it was clear this woman was not small town or into getting dirty other than for a romanticized night at a time. And Dex would know, because he played that part well. The one night at a time part. Come to think of it, he played the dirty part well, too.
Dex was the bastard son of Talcom LeRoy, a rich name with a rich family. Dex didn’t know any of them. Including ol’ pop himself. Since it was a small town, though, everyone knew his father and his mother and the scandal of Dex’s birth thirty years ago. But time had passed, and people had moved on. Literally. His father lived with his “real” family in Savannah, and the rest was history. His mother was still in Beaufort. Living in the same small trailer Dex had grown up in.
No matter how many times Dex tried to get her a new place to live, she stayed right where she was, saying that she was happy with her lot in life, which was at the poverty line. Not that Dex actually let her live like that. She could be stubborn and keep her trailer, but he paid all her bills and made sure she wanted for nothing. Taking care of her was what he did. Hell, it was also what he did for a living. Because sometimes, people couldn’t take care of themselves, which was where Dex came in. He was determined to help people learn how to be independent. At the end of the day, the best thing that could happen was he’d become obsolete, and they’d discard him. In his eyes, that meant he’d done his job and shown them how to truly take care of themselves.
Which was why he took his job and his life seriously. He wanted his mother, his friends, everyone, to be independent. And he made a living teaching just that. Trekking around with socialites who wouldn’t know poison oak from tree bark was frustrating. Because they were never looking to learn or survive. They were looking for a good time in an outdoor scene. But he kept doing it, because it was all worth it when that one in a thousand students came to class truly needing his help.
The wealthy were a different breed. Always had been. Especially wealthy women. Dex had learned quickly as a teenager that women only wanted him as a novelty item. He was “a bad boy from good stock,” and whenever the debutantes of town wanted to piss off their daddies, they came calling on Dex. He was good enough for a night of wild fun, down and dirty, maybe even a prom date here and there. But never more. Never serious.
Which was fine with him. Because he knew exactly how Perfect-Ass Barbie in front of him operated before she even opened her mouth. Her designer clothes and upscale attitude were a dead giveaway.
“Well, let’s get going then. We have over three miles to hike and camp to set before dark, so we need to hustle.” He looked her over once more and adjusted his belt slightly. Not because his dick was being a dick and deciding to get hard just from looking at her. Okay, maybe that was why. He might know her kind—poor little rich girl looking for “an experience” to blog about later—but goddamn it, she was gorgeous. Fresh and so soft looking that he wanted to touch her milky skin and taste those plump berry lips.
She didn’t have to try. She was delicate. All woman. And exactly his type. Which was the wrong type. But he’d gotten lost in women like her before. And it was during those times he felt a little less lower class and a little more dominant.
“I’d suggest getting your jacket and putting on your hiking shoes,” he said.
She frowned and adjusted her bright blue bag on her shoulder. “These are my hiking boots,” she said. “Well, actually they’re Jimmy Choo booties from last fall’s catalog, but they’re really comfortable.”
Dex raised a brow at her saying those shoes were “comfortable.”
“You ever walk for longer than thirty minutes in them?”
She didn’t say anything, he knew the answer to that.
“Jacket,” he repeated. “Put it on. Now.”
She smiled and opened her purse— It was a purse, just a rather large one. She pulled out a light white sweater complete with pearl buttons.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said.