All About the D

“I was just feeding off your vibe, the one that said stay away.”

“I never want you to stay away.” I sigh and run my hands through my hair. “Tonight was a clusterfuck, wasn’t it? There’s so much going on right now. With Spencer’s campaign. With work. With us.”

She nods. “I know. Work is burying me. And keeping us a secret is exhausting. Today? Our first real attempt to go out in public together? You can squarely say it was a disaster.”

“Cherry picking was amazing.”

“Cherry picking was miles out of town,” she points out with a sad smile. Taking a step back, she looks up at me, steady and clear. “Look, there’s something that’s been bothering me since dinner. Something that Gary said that got me thinking.”

This can’t be good. I motion for her to continue, and she bites her lip and turns to stare out the window.

“My parents divorced because my mom was from your world, but my dad wasn’t. My father is as blue-collar as they come. And I guess I’m scared that I’m more a part of my dad’s world and not yours.”

Her words make my stomach drop. Those gray eyes turn back to study me, and I shake my head. Nothing could be further from the truth. Fuck, did I do this to her by saying that Drew and I bonded because we had a similar background?

“No, sweetheart, that’s not—”

A quick trill from my phone interrupts my explanation.

Ignoring it, I step to her. “None of that matters to me. Trust me. I know that people are more than their families. I like you for you. There’s no way—”

Except five more messages come in rapid fire.

And then the ringing starts and doesn’t stop.

Goddamn it. It’s almost midnight. Which jackass is calling right now?

I pull back as Evie rubs her arm up and down. “You have to get that?” she asks, her voice a whisper.

“Probably.” Only Drew and Spencer are that insistent. Although, after that dinner, I suspect Drew knows better than to call tonight. Unless he’s in jail.

Evie nods, but I can see the disappointment in her eyes. When she steps away, the cold from the night sinks back into my skin.





28





Evie





Josh is sitting on the couch, his arms braced on his knees as he listens to whoever’s on the other end of the call. All at once, his voice pierces the quiet loft.

“And you had to discuss this now?” he shouts into the phone. “Christ, Spencer, you’re high-maintenance.”

I go to the bathroom to get ready for bed, disheartened that whatever they’re talking about is putting Josh in a bad mood again. Jesus, we just cannot get a break.

After I brush my teeth and take a quick shower, I toss on a T-shirt and sweats that I have tucked in one of Josh’s drawers. I contemplate skipping the warm bottoms, but I’m too tired and cold to go for sexy. I want to go to bed and sleep. For about ten years.

When I emerge from the bathroom, Josh is still on the couch, but instead of his phone, he’s cradling a glass of amber liquid.

“Is everything okay?” I ask as I fold my clothes.

“Other than the fact that my brother thinks I’m at his beck and call? Sure.” He rolls his eyes. “He had a design emergency, and since it’s Sunday night and his designer is MIA, he thought I needed to handle his logo crisis.”

He stands, tosses back the rest of his drink, and motions toward the bathroom. “Gonna take a shower first before I attempt to deal with it.” I’m sure he sees the disappointment in my eyes because he stalks up to me and wraps me in his arms. “Sorry, babe. I know you need to get to bed. I can work on the couch.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” But yeah, I’m bummed that nothing, nothing has worked out tonight. Since we haven’t seen each other since last weekend, I was really hoping the little time we spent together today would be special.

As Josh is about to duck into the bathroom, I realize I never sent an attachment to one of my clients, a contract I need reviewed first thing in the morning. Damn it. “Do you mind if I use your laptop to check my email? I forgot to do something for work. I should be done by the time you’re out of the shower.”

“Of course.” He motions toward it. “Help yourself.”

The bathroom door shuts, and I drag myself to his desk and open the MacBook Pro. I wait for it to wake up and then type in the code, which Josh gave me the last time I had to work here.

I need to pull up my law firm’s email and click on the back door web access. Back door. I chuckle to myself.

Except when I click on the browser, AATD pops up.

The sound of the shower starts, and I hover my mouse to change the site when I get distracted by the gorgeousness on the screen. I start scrolling through Josh’s posts, but then I accidentally click on his inbox.

The screen turns a dark blue and starts loading.

“Shit,” I whisper, not wanting to screw up something.

I rub my face, and when my hands lower, I have a screen full of messages. My eyes automatically go back and forth across the words.

DirtyGirl411: You have the prettiest cock!

JezebelWillRockUrWorld: I’d do u hard bae.

Boobalicious219: My pussy is soooo wet for u.

KyleIsPacking: Ever done a dude?



My pulse is surging in my ears, and sweat breaks out under my arms. I should close this because nothing good can come from reading the DM’s from Josh’s blog.

The screen is full of messages, and every other one has a pic attached.

My hand is trembling on the trackpad.

Close it, Evie. Close. It. Right. Now.

But white-hot jealousy claws at my throat. What if he messages with these women? What if there’s more than what he’s told me? Early on, we talked about it, and he said he never wrote any of these people. That he only responded to the business inquiries, which is how he landed the Caligula endorsement.

What if he only said he didn’t message them because he didn’t want to freak me out? Were we even really dating when we had that conversation? Would he tell me something different now?

If he does message them, am I okay with that?

Fuck, no, I’m not.

I don’t realize I’m scrolling through page after page of messages until the fonts look different.

My stomach drops when I realize why. They’ve been opened. About a dozen from yesterday.

We didn’t hang out yesterday. We didn’t hang out all week because we were so busy.

But he probably had time to jerk off.

Chill, Evie. Guys jerk off every day. That’s the whole point of his pet project, remember?

Didn’t he tell me he posted something on his blog last night? He’s always posting, so I don’t pay attention to that anymore unless he wants feedback about a photo or gif before he posts.

Okay, so is this his personal spank bank?

Unease settles over me.

I don’t care that he watches porn. I knew full well he watched lots of porn from the very beginning. We even laughed about the videos he viewed to make his dick clone.

But this is his inbox.

Women messaging him.

Women wanting to talk to him.

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