Page 1 of Deception & Daylight (Oak Ridge #3)

Mags

Vigilante Shit - Taylor Swift

H ere’s the thing…

When I gently nudged Paige to sign up for RateMate, I had no intention of signing up alongside her.

But curiosity (and wine) got the better of me.

So, while my bestie is passed out with her feet on my lap, I’m busy swiping through profiles hoping to come across the hottie named Miles who made a brief appearance on Paige’s phone before I urged her to keep swiping.

I’m well aware of my hypocrisy but, in my defense, Paige isn’t into blondes. I have less… discriminating tastes. Give me a man with a nice smile and a sound moral compass, and I’ll bite. Literally, if given the chance.

Admittedly, the distance between Toronto and Kentucky is a challenge, but my dad is the CEO of a travel magazine based in Tennessee, and I’ll be in the area over Christmas break.

If we split the difference and meet in Nashville, it’s a win win situation.

What happens in Tennessee, stays in Tennessee, right?

Ok, so that’s Vegas, but same basic premise.

When I check the time, I’m shocked to find it’s already 2:20 a.m. I decide to give it ten more minutes and if I don’t find this guy, I’ll call it a night.

I’m not sure what drew me to his profile in the first place; it might’ve been the devastating jawline or the deep blue eyes that screamed trouble.

Who am I kidding? The man is jacked, and he could absolutely wear me like a JanSport.

Bonus points for not having a fishing photo in his carousel.

I’m beginning to lose hope, frantically swiping past profile after profile when I’m stopped dead in my tracks by that devastating smile.

I spend the next few minutes going over his details: 28-year-old contractor from Kentucky.

Likes animals, not looking for a serious relationship — no problem there.

My finger hovers over the ten in the ratings box when I notice a blinking green light above his messaging icon. He’s online right now.

Maggie: Hey Kentucky, got any plans over the holidays?

Miles: Well, hey there, gorgeous. Are you offering to give me something to do?

Maggie: Or someone. ??

Miles: Not for nothing, but maybe we should get to know each other first.

Mags: What do you want to know?

Miles: Favorite movie?

Maggie: Pride and Prejudice (the 2005 version, obviously.) You?

Miles: Empire Strikes Back

Maggie: Star Wars? Never would’ve pegged you for a nerd.

Miles: Are you offering to peg me, darlin’?

Not where I thought this conversation was going, but I’ll play.

Maggie: Are you interested, Miles?

Miles: Hmm. Think I’ll pass. Music?

Maggie: My playlist is a mixed bag. Everything from show tunes to folk rock. You?

Miles: Hozier is at the top of my list, for sure.

Maggie: You’ve got taste, I’ll give you that.

Miles: I’d definitely love a taste. ??

My face is on fire and I have to squeeze my thighs together to quell the growing ache caused by the glaring innuendo.

It’s been far too long since I’ve had a man between my thighs, and if this conversation is headed where I think it is, I need to extricate myself from under my best friend.

I carefully slide out from under Paige, replacing my legs with a throw pillow before inching away from the couch and tiptoeing towards the stairs.

Just as I’m closing the door to my bedroom, my phone vibrates with another message.

Miles: Not sure if I can wait until December.

Fuck. Me.

Instead of tapping out a response, I decide to play with my prey.

I quickly strip off my jeans and tank top before heading over to the full-length mirror attached to my armoire.

I’ve done my fair share of sexting, and this angle always gets me exactly what I’m after.

I muss up my naturally wavy hair, leaving my fingers locked in the strands as I lean my head to the side and cross one leg in front of the other.

My nipples are visibly hard beneath my lacy blush bra, my cheeks flushed, looking freshly fucked.

I’m a confident 23-year-old woman, and I know I look damn good.

I snap a couple of photos from different angles, making sure to get it just right before selecting the best one to send off to Miles.

He has no idea who he’s dealing with. Miles, eat your heart out.

Miles: Fuuuuuuuuuuck. Ready to play, little minx?