Page 87 of The Baby Bargain

"You know about Sephora?"

He smiles. "I support my girlfriend if she wants to go to the mall."

"'Cause she'll model the dresses she tries on for you?"

"And then I'll sneak into the dressing room with her and make her come." He rolls his eyesobviously.

Fuck, I miss that. Wanting to be around someone so much I gladly joined her at the mall.

And, well—

I had my share of dressing room sex.

It was always fucking amazing.

Would Ariel be into that? She doesn't seem like the mall type. More thebuying all my clothes online, on a site that sells reasonable but high quality basicstype.

She has to get those tight black jeans somewhere.

There has to be somewhere I can demand she bend over and roll them to her knees, so they're binding her thighs as I fuck her.

Somewhere besides her bedroom.

"Shit. I got you started." Wes shakes his head. "I know it's been a while since you thought about fucking anyone. Don't forget to keep it in your pants."

"Thanks for the tip."

He laughs. "If you must, the bathroom's over there." He motions to the bathroom in back.

"Thanks. I almost forget." I can't help but laugh. It's absurd. That it's been so long since I've openly wanted someone. That Wes and I are talking about fucking ourselves in the bathroom. That this conversation is so easy.

"You fuck her yet?"

"She's Forest's kid sister."

"And?"

"You think he wants someone like me with his sister?"

"You're not as awful as you think you are," Wes says.

I almost blush. I want to believe that. I really do. "You sure about that?"

Wes nodsyeah.

The door ringsbing-bongas someone enters. Footsteps move closer. Steady ones.

Hunter moves into the main room. His blue eyes—a shade lighter than mine—move over me and Wes.

He reads the room. Keeps his distance.

Wes shakes his headthis is stupid. "Not to get all Griffin, but if you want me to pretend it's normal you two don't speak, well—" He looks from Hunter to me. "Get the fuck over yourself, Chase."

"I'm just sitting here." I turn the page in my sketchbook. Pick up my pen. I need something to steady my thoughts. A way out of this conversation that doesn't make me a bitter asshole.

"Putting out vibes," Wes says.

"I thought I was vibing on Ariel?" My shoulders tense. There's a storm cloud over this conversation. It's not Hunter. It's me. My inability to let go, forgive, trust, move on.