“Asswipe,” she spat.
“While you’re in the ladies’ room, take the wig and the contacts off, then throw them in the trash.” If she didn’t, I would before we left there.
She flipped me the bird as she sashayed her luscious body out of the room.
My chest tightened, and so did my dick. The woman knew how to irritate me and get me so fucking horny I was about to erupt. I grumbled as I sat down then began perusing the probate guide—nothing like a law text to get my dick to calm the fuck down. I jotted note after note on the role of the trustee, the beneficiary’s rights and entitlements, and several reasons a trustee could be removed, including not handling the estate properly, death, stealing, and if the trustee no longer lived in Florida.
The door squeaked open. I kept reading and taking notes, not wanting to check if my guest was Lizzie, out of fear that she probably wasn’t coming back. We were both trying hard to keep our emotions in check. The operative word was trying. I was failing miserably. One minute I was an asswipe, the next minute I was sweet. Then I was angry and irritated. I wanted Lizzie, then I didn’t want Lizzie. I wanted to feel her again, but I didn’t.
The word motherfucker repeated in my head like a song stuck on loop. I had to get my head on straight. I didn’t know how to do that with her in my life again. Whether she got her money back or not, she would probably leave Boston at some point. I nodded to myself. I had to keep things between us professional, like a lawyer would.
“Who are you nodding to?” she asked.
Not looking up, I said, “You didn’t run, huh?”
“Nah. You’d only chase me.” Her tone was light, sexy, and playful.
Jerking up my head, my mouth fell open. She stood in front of me with her dark hair spilling over her breasts. Her baby-blue T-shirt accentuated her eyes, bringing out the blue over the gray. My throat was as dry as the Mohave Desert, and my dick perked up.
“Stop drooling. It’s disgusting,” she teased.
“You listened to me.” That alone had my heart doing somersaults.
“No, the wig was itchy.”
“Do you need me to scratch anything?” I beg you to say yes.
She threw me the finger again.
“Flip me off again, and I may lay you out on one of these tables.” My balls were turning blue.
“I—”
Bonnie stuck her head in. “We’re closing the offices. If you don’t have everything you need, you can use the library before your appointment next week with Mr. Davenport.”
I tore off my sheets of notes then returned the book to the shelf. I did want to do more research before speaking with Mr. Davenport, but I could use the Internet.
After we thanked Bonnie, we made our way to my Jeep. The sun was finally out after a week of gloomy days.
“Did you get everything you need?” Lizzie asked.
“On the legal end, almost. In the meantime, Zach will be back on Sunday night. I’ll talk to him then. What were you doing with Dillon at Rumors?” Kade had only texted me that Lizzie had stopped by with Dillon. Then followed it up with another text asking me to call him. After we’d left art class, we’d come straight to Davenport’s. With Lizzie in the Jeep, I hadn’t had any privacy to talk to Kade. And most of our conversation from BU to Davenport’s had stemmed around her questions about the legal system, most of which I couldn’t answer.
“Dillon and I paid a visit to a guy he knows. He told Dillon he would call him if he hears about any high-stakes poker games,” she said. “Afterward I went to see Kade. I thought he had an opening for a waitress.”
“I’m confused. You can’t accept my invitation to dinner with my family, but you can ask Kade for a job?” I mentally scratched my head. Not only that, the idea of her waiting on drunk men who would make advances on her dug a hole in the pit of my stomach.
“It was a bad idea. Can we not talk about your family?”
I halted in my tracks as my throat tightened. It hurt like a motherfucker that Lizzie was blowing me off. I shouldn’t have kissed her. I shouldn’t have gone anywhere near her. I should’ve bolted the minute Dillon called her name in the club. The pain in my chest, the one I was trying so fucking hard to avoid, was dull but present.
She threw up her hands, stomping back to me. “What’s wrong? Mad because you’re not getting your way?”