Then I got back down to business, giving the makeup a rest in order to blow out my hair, put it in big rollers, give them a shot of hairspray, and get back to makeup.

In the midst of that, I got a text back from Toby that stated, Johnny’s done. He’s cool too. See you soon, babe.

When I read that, something weird fluttered in my chest.

Okay, oh God.

He was going to see me soon, after we fucked hot, fast and the good kind of nasty on the edge of his bed without even taking off all of our clothes, and we were going to be together for a whole half an hour without Brooklyn or anyone before everyone showed.

Okay, oh God.

I was not this girl.

I knew I was not hard on the eyes. I had Daphne Forrester in me, Eliza as my sister, and she was gorgeous, and I looked like both of them.

And I’d always had a lot of male attention.

But it was more.

I was a survivor. I didn’t need anybody.

I could pay my bills (or I used to be able to). I could take out my own trash. I could get my car in to change the oil.

I’d never needed a man to define or complete me.

And I gave off that vibe and it utterly repulsed some men, but it drew in others.

One type of those others was Perry, reading me as someone who could take care of myself, and thus would do the same for him.

Another type was Toby, reading me as someone who might be able to take care of myself (in normal circumstances), and that drew him in because he was confident enough not to allow my confidence to minimize his.

And I wanted that. I wanted the kind of partner who got me, got off on that and complemented me, letting me complement him.

So now for the first time (I’d never felt this with Perry), I was nervous.

Nervous about getting this right.

Nervous about not fucking this up.

Suddenly, Dapper Dan shot to his feet and raced out of the bathroom.

“Addie!”

He was here!

Okay, oh God.

Okay.

Oh God!

Through this thought process, I’d gotten my makeup done but my hair wasn’t, and I wasn’t dressed.

“Down in a second!” I shouted. “Get a beer!”

The curlers were out, and I’d pulled the top and sides of my hair back for it to disappear under a poofed mess of soft waves that fell from my crown down my back.

I was happy with my efforts, ready to hit the bedroom and dress, when I turned and saw Tobe leaning in the doorjamb to the bathroom, his fingers wrapped around a bottle of beer.

His jeans were loose in that way that hinted at the goodness underneath, rather than made it in your face, and now I’d seen his dick. It was perfectly formed, had girth and length, so I knew that goodness firsthand. I’d seen his chest and abs as well, both were beautifully defined, pecs to stomach covered in a light, but still dense smattering of black hair.

Now that torso was hidden by a spruce button-up that made his black eyes glitter, the shine in his hair shinier, hair that was slicked back with a lift at the top, and the shirt even made his beard seem fuller.

He’d made an effort too. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him in anything but a tee (except a long-sleeve tee, and a thermal or two).

He had his black, lace-up boots crossed at the ankles and his eyes on my hair.

And top to toe, he looked good enough to eat.

“You’ve ruined my entrance!” I snapped.

His eyes moved to mine.

And when they did, I stopped breathing, but my nipples started tingling.

“Our last sesh lasted probably fifteen minutes, so I’m relatively certain you can take a solid fucking, and during it I can make you come at least three times, and you’ll still have time to get dressed before everyone gets here.”

I absolutely wanted to “take a solid fucking.”

What I didn’t want was to have sex hair and post-three-orgasms face when Margot showed.

“It’s gonna take me at least ten minutes to get my lipstick right.”

“Addie, just as you are, everything’s fuckin’ right.”

Oh my God.

“Jesus,” he muttered, his gaze moving over my face and hair, “I didn’t think you could get more gorgeous. But there it is.”

Oh my God.

I had to put an end to this or we were going to go at it on the bathroom floor.

“You’re ruining my get-hot-for-Toby mojo by making me hot for you,” I told him saucily.

“Baby, if that was your goal, consider it achieved,” he returned, then ordered, “Come here.”

“You come here,” I retorted.

“Okay,” he said.

Then he came to me, his beer was on the bathroom counter, and I was in his arms, his mouth was on mine, his tongue was in my mouth, and he was totally ruining my hair.

I did not care.

When he broke the kiss, I was panting.

“Changed my mind,” he murmured. “I’m not gonna do you. You’re gonna do me. It’s gonna go slow. And I’m gonna get to watch all of that bouncing on my dick. Just . . . later.”

“Okay,” I wheezed.

“You see the lights?” he asked.

“What lights?” I asked back, totally not following because I had the taste of beer and Tobe in my mouth and a long length of hot guy in my arms with his arms around me, and my mind on riding Toby’s cock later, so I wasn’t even sure if two plus two equaled four.

“Outside,” he said through hitched lips, having assumed a cocky look that told me he knew my thoughts. A look I hoped he’d keep when I was riding his dick later.

“Lit up?” I inquired.

“Yeah.”

I shook my head.

“They’re on timers. They go on at five. I’ll turn ’em on early so we can get a look.”

I nodded my head.

“If you get dressed,” he said.

“I need you to let me go in order to do that,” I pointed out.

“Yeah,” he replied, but didn’t let me go.

“Talon.”

“Lollipop, give me five more seconds.”

“Why? Just to stand in the bathroom and hold me?”

“Yeah.”

My God.

This man.

I moved my hand to stroke his beard at his jaw, whispering, “Toby.”

“Waited a long time for this five seconds,” he whispered back.

I heard that.

“Okay. Then let’s make it ten.”

He smiled at me.

Holding me in his arms in my bathroom, Tobias Gamble was smiling at me.

God.

Outside the day God gave me Brooklyn, this was the best day ever.

We took our ten seconds (okay, maybe it was fifteen) before he bent his head to touch his lips to mine, that beard and mustache tickling me, and he sadly let me go.

“You on beer or wine tonight?” he asked, nabbing his own beer from the counter.

“Wine. Red,” I told him.

“Got you covered. Get dressed,” he ordered, sauntering out of my bathroom. “And hurry.”

“Order received, Talon.”

He shot me a grin over his shoulder (hot) and disappeared in my bedroom.

I turned to the mirror, righted my hair as best as I could then took off my robe, grabbed my perfume, which was also running out, and spritzed.

I didn’t dally with donning bra and panties (matching, both pre-Brooks, both sexy), jeans, shirt, belt, earrings, socks and cowboy boots.