“Fuck you, Jamie.”
Jamie swung his legs off the desk and leaned across it, hands splayed. “All right, I’ll stop giving you a hard time. So, tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t stop fucking thinking about her. Can’t stop touching her. I don’t want my goddamn space, for God’s sake.”
“You’ve got it bad.”
“You say that like it’s a disease,” he muttered, tossing the napkin he’d been holding onto the desk, since it seemed Jamie was right about him not being able to eat. “So what the fuck do I do?” he demanded.
“Do? There’s not much you can do. You either go full throttle and give things a try with her, or you run.”
“I don’t think I can run,” Duff said. “But I’m not ready to deal with this. It’s been nearly a month. I need more time. I need to figure this shit out. I’m not good relationship material—I’ll only fuck it up.”
“Most of us do. Welcome to the human race, cousin.”
“Fuck. You’re not much help, you know.”
Jamie shrugged. “Maybe not. But let me grace you with some wise words once spoken by ‘an old bastard who knows nothing about women.’ Don’t wait too long. Women only have so much patience, you know.”
“Ah, that’s charming, to throw my own words at me.”
“Not my fault that you were right. You were overdue.”
“Thanks and fuck you again, cousin,” he grumbled.
“You’re welcome,” Jamie told him cheerfully. “You going to eat that?”
“Nah, have at it.”
Despite his grouching, he couldn’t be too pissed off, because Jamie was right. But he didn’t feel any better, any more comfortable with feeling this much for someone. He still had it in the back of his head that he was a bad seed, that he couldn’t give any woman what she deserved, and certainly not a woman like Layla. She deserved everything. But he also wasn’t ready to give her up.
That thought made his stomach turn.
Give her up? He’d rather cut off his left nut. And that settled that—neither was happening anytime soon.
? ? ?
“HEY, KITTY, IT’S me.”
“Well. I thought I was going to have to call out the search party and dredge the swamps, girl,” Layla’s friend told her. “Hang on a sec, honey. Yes, she needs to have lowlights, Chelsea, not more highlights. Good Lord, the woman is going to bleach herself into brain damage—you make sure she understands that. I’m not having anyone leaving my salon with hair like straw, even if it is almost Halloween. Sorry, Layla, hon. Work issues. So, you gonna tell me where the hell you’ve been? And I’m hoping it’s in his bed so I don’t have to be mad at you.”
Layla grinned, leaning toward her bathroom mirror and smoothing a stray curl away from her headset. “Of course it’s been his bed. And mine. And his kitchen counter and his shower and his dungeon room.”
Kitty lowered her voice, hissing at her, “He has his own freakin’ dungeon room? You’ve been holding out on me! We need to get together if you can manage to tear yourself away from him for five minutes so we can catch up. It feels like it’s been a million years since we’ve had a good sit-down. How long have you been seeing him now?”
“Almost a month.”
Kitty let out a low whistle. “Boy, do you sound smug about that.”
“I do not,” Layla protested with a laugh.
“Okay, but yeah, you do.”
She couldn’t argue the point any further. “It’s good to hear your voice, Kitty.”
“It’s good to hear yours, and to hear you sound so happy. So, what are you doing now?”
“I’m standing in front of the mirror and kind of grinning at myself like an idiot, and hating myself a little bit for it.”
“Aw, you need to cut yourself some slack. Not that I want to lose my best friend to another relationship—”
“That won’t happen again. Ever. I swear it.”
“—even for the honeymoon period, but I’m trying real hard not to be selfish.”
“This isn’t a ‘honeymoon’ kind of thing, Kitty.”
“Isn’t it?”
“I can’t even think about it in those terms,” Layla said.
“Maybe it’s about time you do. I have a feeling this one could be good for you.”
“Well, we’ll see.”
“I haven’t heard a single reason for you not to trust him. Except for that part about him being the biggest playboy at The Bastille since Finn arrived from the club in Atlanta, but Rosie cured him quick enough. Why shouldn’t you be the one to cure Duff?”
“I’m not about to cure anyone of anything. I’ve hit my head against that wall often enough, and I’m done.”
“Crap. I always manage to say the wrong thing, don’t I?”
“No, it’s not your fault I have so much relationship baggage. And I didn’t mean to be so defensive.”
“That’s okay, honey.”
“So . . . what I really called about was to see if you’re going to be at the Halloween party at Midnight Ink this weekend? I can’t believe we haven’t talked about it yet.”
“Of course I’m going. Wouldn’t miss it.”
“That’s good. Because Duff is coming with me, and I’d really like for you to spend a few minutes with him.”
“Mm-hmm. Because he’s not that important and you’re not getting emotionally involved? Oh, stop your sputtering—you know I can’t resist teasing you. But I’ll be more than happy to check him out close up. I need to be sure he’s good enough for my best friend.”
“Thanks, Kitty.”
“It’ll be fun. I can tell him all the embarrassing stories about you.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s exactly why I wanted you to come. On second thought, maybe you’d better stay home that night.”
“Not a chance. I’ll be there with bells on,” Kitty said. “Well, not literally, since it’s not a costume party. But . . . you know what I mean.”
“You can always make me smile.”
“That’s my job, hon. Okay, I’ll see you and your new man Saturday night at the tattoo shop. And since my life has been supremely dull lately, maybe one of you can introduce me to one of his hot Dom friends.”