“Good.” She grasps my shoulders and turns me toward the door. Then she jumps on my back, her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. “Giddy up, Playboy!”

I grab her thighs and position her better. “Jeez, no wonder you're broke. Been spending all your money on food? You've put on a few, Al.”

“Shut up,” she says through a laugh, covering my eyes with her hands. “Do you trust me?”

“Not for shit.” I shake my head out of her hold. “Besides, there are stairs involved. Remember that time you pushed me down the stairs at your house and you broke my arm?”

Her entire body throws back with her laugh—I have to hold her tighter to stop us both from falling.

“There was so much blood. My brother freaked out and called the ambulance, police and fire department.”

I start down the stairs. “You were shitting yourself, Allie. You thought the cops were going to arrest you.

“And Robbie kept yelling at us not to touch anything because it was a crime scene.”

I jump from the last step and make my way to the front door. “I can't even remember why you pushed me.”

“You asked to see what color my nipples were.”

“What!”

“True story.”

“I don't remember it going that way.”

She laughs, low and slow. “I do. I kind of wanted to show you but knew it was bad so I just pushed you down the stairs instead.”

“How old were we?”

She thinks for a beat. “Thirteen, I think.”

“Jeez, even at thirteen I was a stud.”

She laughs harder. “You mean perv, right?”

“Maybe.” I get to my car and settle her in the passenger's seat, her feet never touching the ground. I even put her seatbelt on for her. “So I have a serious question…” I say, my face only inches from hers.

“What's that?”

“What color are your nipples?”

She covers my face with her hand and pushes it away.

I give her a cocky smile and arch my eyebrows.

With her arms crossed, she says, “Pink.” Then she smirks and, too quickly for me to register, she pinches my nipples. Hard. “Just like yours!”

CHAPTER EIGHT

I take her to a sports bar just off campus. I'd contemplated taking her somewhere fancier but fancy things make her uncomfortable. I guess that's what happens when you grow up with your dad and two older brothers. And me, of course. She fits in well where we are. A little too well going by the looks she's getting from most of the guys. She's not dressed in a way that attempts to get attention. She's just Allie—beautiful beyond her knowledge.

Allie picks up her beer and takes a huge swig. When she's done, she slams the bottle on the table and says, “So?”

“Huh?” I guess I was too busy looking at her to realize she'd said something.

“Skip the movie? Just hang out here?” She’s staring at something across the bar. “That guy's been looking at me the whole night.” She smirks. “Think I could get lucky?”

I exhale a deflated breath and follow her gaze. There's a guy I don't recognize leaning against a wall, pool cue in his hand and his eyes on her. He's decent looking, but not good enough for her.

I scoff when I turn back around. “That guy? Really, Al? Dude's got raper face.”

Her eyes widen and her head tilts back with her laugh. “What the hell is raper face?”

***

We stay for a couple hours after our meal. She's talking to Raper Face while I watch the game on the big screen. This isn't exactly how I wanted our time together to be like. Me sitting around pining over her—Shit—I'm pining? I'm Tyler West. I don't pine.

“Mr. West,” I hear, and look to my left.

A cocky smirk lights up my face. Cynthia, 'Ma’am’s' chef sits down next to me. “Cynthia. How goes it?”

She shrugs and looks straight ahead. “Same old. Are you uh…working tonight?”

I shift my gaze over to Allie and her guy for the night. She's sitting on a stool near the pool tables with him between her legs. He's talking and she's nodding. But she's watching me—her brow bunched and lips pulled down in a frown. I don't know why she looks so upset. I'm not the one who bailed on our time together. I focus my attention on Cynthia; her jet-black hair, bright blue eyes, and golden skin. She's got a killer body for someone in her late thirties. There’s no way she needed to pay for sex—but I'd never complain. Her and Mrs. Fletcher are by far my best clients—but for completely different reasons. I turn on my stool and with my hands on her legs, lean forward so I can whisper in her ear. “What have you got in mind?”

Her palm flattens on my chest and moves down my stomach to my belt. She pulls harshly, causing me to fall off the stool and land on my feet. I chuckle into her neck. She bites my ear gently, her fingers dipping into my waistband now. The woman doesn’t mess around. “My place? One hour?”

I look over at Allie again. She’s standing now, her arms around the guy’s shoulders as he attacks her neck. Apparently it's not enjoyable enough for her to take her eyes off Cynthia and me. Her eyes widen slightly when they lock with mine. She jerks back as if shocked at having been caught staring. Then she smiles, a sinister smile that makes absolutely no fucking sense. Her gaze finally moves from me back to the guy whose attention had been on nothing but her. Her hands trail up his back to his hair. Then she pulls him down to her waiting mouth and I really don't need to see any more.