Page 22 of The Toy Maker

The door was lockedbut just for good measure, I tugged on it a dozen more times.

“Fuck.” Without my house keys, I wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near my true love—the bed.

If my rebellious phase had taught me anything, it was that when one door closes there will always be an open window to squeeze your fucked-up ass through.

I scrambled around the building to find an open window, trying with all my willpower to keep myself from stumbling over. The alleyway was dark and horrifying, lit up only by the flashlight on my phone. I didn’t want to stick around any longer than I had to. The window to the dressing rooms were shut tight, but eventually I came across one in the back that was unlocked.

The real challenge would be prying it open, so I tapped into my inner locksmith and jammed my keys under the window to lift it up. The wood cracked and groaned before giving in.Bingo.

Finally, love was an open window. I peered into the room and saw several tables filled with dismembered sex toys. In my haze, I concluded that I had stumbled upon a fuck-toy graveyard.

I carefully lifted my feet through the window and began to gracefully slide myself in. The plan included landing like a cat or a puma on my feet. Instead, I ended up losing my grip and landing flat on my ass.There’s another bruise, I thought with a wince.

Tapping into my ninja-like skills, I pushed myself off the ground and scurried around the room in search of an exit, but the world was still spinning. My only goal was to retrieve the purse, get back to the cab, and complete my quest for sleep.

My mission came to a screeching halt when the big bad wolf appeared. “What are you doing?” Jason’s voice startled me and nearly knocked me off my unicorn.

I clutched my chest, heaving for air. “You scared me.”

“Why are you here?” His eyebrows were furrowed, and he continued glancing between me and the door, confused. He was a regular knight in rusty armor.

“I need my keys,” I slurred, batting my hand around with a shrug.

Jason glanced down to my hand and met my drunken gaze. “You mean the ones in your hand?”

What a smug bastard, just assuming that I’m some sort of idio—“Oh.” The keys indeed dangled from my limp fingers. Jason smirked at my absent-mindedness, and I felt my cheeks begin to burn.

Swallowing, I struggled to find anything other than my shame to focus on.

Unfortunately, my eyes finally zeroed in on Jason’s appearance. His hair was tousled on one side as if he had just woken up from a nap; a smudge of black grease was smeared across his face and completely delicious-looking bottom lip.

“You’re wasted,” Jason observed flatly.

“That’s what my mom says, but I don’t think she is in any position to judge with that droopy husband of hers.” She neverthought I lived up to my potential, if that potential was securing a man in my ‘good’ years.

“Your father?” He raised a brow.

“Psh,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes dramatically. “My dad was a stud. Unfortunately for me, I look more like my mom.”

He smiled despite hating my presence in the building, and my heart leaped.

I shook myself out of it and aimlessly stumbled around the toy graveyard. Pieces of toys were scattered across several tables. One contraption, in particular, caught my eye; I lifted the oddly assembled gadget off the table.

“That’s not finished.” Jason rushed over and grabbed the toy from my weak grip, brushing against my hand in the process.

It could have been the tequila or the fact that I had been celibate for a large portion of time, but I would testify in front of a jury that I felt fire moving up my arm. The heat practically turned my legs to mush.Or was it the tequila?

Those thoughts were cut short when Jason said, “How long are you staying?”

I cut him a glare. “As long as it takes for you to explain your doodad.” I ignored his rude way of insinuating that he wanted me out.

For a moment, I braced myself for him to laugh in my face and point me straight to the door. Instead, he glanced between me and the absurd toy like he was sizing up the lesser of two evils.

“Fine,” he conceded. “But after that, you leave.”

“Yes, sir,” I drawled, letting the words drip out with exaggerated sweetness.

He held his masterpiece up to the light. It resembled a Ferris wheel but with tongue replicas where the carts should be. “The idea is that?—”