The Rules of Dating(8)
“Thank you!” My daughter reached out and hugged Billie.
Billie closed her eyes as she received the embrace. “You are so welcome, pretty girl. Come back and visit again soon. I always have Goldfish and juice boxes.”
She walked us to the door.
Before we left, I turned around one last time. “Hey, Billie?”
“Yeah?”
“That ex of yours is an idiot.”
Her cheeks reddened. Maybe it was because of what I said. Or maybe it was because I’d just sneaked one more look at the cleavage peeking out of her corset.
CHAPTER 3
Colby
Tuesday after I left the office, I slowed on the sidewalk as I passed the tattoo parlor, hoping to catch a glimpse of the owner—otherwise known as the woman who had been haunting my dreams the last few nights. It was fucked up. I very rarely dreamed—or at least I very rarely remembered my dreams—but three nights in a row now, I’d had the same goddamn one. I was in Billie’s shop, lying in her tattoo chair while she inked a black-and-white picture of a bridge onto the skin over my right pectoral muscle. It would have been innocent enough if it stopped there, but of course it didn’t. Halfway through my tat, she pressed the pedal on the floor and lowered the chair. Then she leaned over and licked her way up my abs… It always ended the same way: Billie in the chair with her legs over my shoulders as I drilled the shit out of her.
Lovely, isn’t it? The woman is sweet to my daughter, and I repay that kindness by having a recurring erotic fantasy and jerking off to the memory every morning. Just thinking about it made me feel like a dirtbag, so even though I wanted to pop in and spend a few minutes with Billie, I didn’t really deserve to.
So, I decided to leave it up to fate. If I happened to see her in the window, I’d stop. If not, I wouldn’t. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on my side tonight, and the only person I saw was the receptionist. Oh well. It was probably for the best. Billie had obviously just come off a bad breakup, which meant the timing wasn’t right—not that she would likely go out with me even if the timing were perfect.
I passed her door and continued to the main entrance for the apartments, walking straight to the elevator. When the doors slid open, my buddy Owen stepped out.
“Hey,” I said. We did a quick fist bump and one-arm-shoulder-hug thing. “What’s going on? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Yeah, I’ve been really busy. My assistant left to go on maternity leave, and one of my agents quit without giving any notice, so I’m shorthanded.”
I looked down at what Owen had in his hand and grinned. “A toolbox? Are you going to a costume party or something? Because I know you don’t have a damn clue how to use one thing in that box, dude.”
“Bite me, asshole. I’m not incompetent. I just prefer not to get my hands dirty.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I heard your manicurist gets upset if you develop a callus.”
I was busting balls, of course, though Owen really did get manicures. Out of my crew of four, he was definitely the one who called people to fix shit, rather than having people call him.
“Seriously, though,” I added. “Where are you going with a toolbox?”
“Holden got a last-minute gig. He didn’t want to pass it up because some music bigwig was going to be there, so he asked me to cover for him as the super for a few days. Trust me, I tried to say no, but he seemed pretty desperate. Now you could be a good friend and cover for me, though…”
I grinned. “No can do. I have a sweet girl waiting for me upstairs.”
“Come on. It won’t take too long. Uncle Owen can take her out for ice cream while you’re doing this maintenance call.”
“Why do you assholes always want to feed my kid sugar?”
Owen smirked. “That’s how we get all the girls to like us.”
I laughed as I stepped into the elevator and pushed the button. “You’re an idiot. Have fun sticking your hands in a toilet or whatever shitty thing you wind up doing.”
“Yeah, fun—fixing air conditioning. Maybe I’ll get a tattoo after, because the thought of someone continually poking me with a needle sounds almost as fun.”
The elevator doors started to slide shut, but my ears had perked up at the word tattoo. Reaching forward, I stopped the doors from closing. “The air isn’t working in the tattoo parlor?”
“Nope. The owner called it in a little while ago.”
Well, well, well. Maybe fate had other plans for me. “On second thought, you have no idea how to fix an air-conditioning unit. Why don’t I go check it out? My sitter has Saylor at the park right now, but they’ll be back in about an hour. You’d just have to be around to relieve her if I’m not done in time.”
“Really?”
I stepped out of the elevator and plucked the toolbox from his hand. “Really. But you owe me one.”
“You got it. Thanks. If I have an hour, I’m going to run to my office to get a file I need for the morning. But I’ll make sure I’m back before Saylor and the sitter return.”
“Alright. Just don’t be late.”
“I won’t. Thanks again, buddy.”
I almost felt a little bad. Although not bad enough to admit I would’ve used any excuse to go to Billie’s, and definitely not bad enough that I wouldn’t be collecting on Owen’s IOU one day.