Page 47 of Force a Date

HUDSON: I don’t share either. So, if you’re feeding another man, I’m going to have a problem with it.

I drop my phone onto the couch, ignoring how absolutely infuriating this man is. He doesn’t want to share but he won’t kiss me. He barely touches me, then goes at full throttle. Now he wants to play boyfriend when we never were together.

Seventy-four days.

Finishing up Rory’s hair, I get her onto the couch and get going on making her popcorn. My fingers tap along the edge of my countertop because I’m annoyed. I dug myself into this situation and it was one of the stupidest ones of my life.

“Mommy, your phone is ringing.”

There’s no way.

“Just leave it?—”

“Hello?” My eyes bulge at Rory’s voice answering my phone and I’m sprinting around the kitchen island to get to it.

My daughter is mine and no one else’s.

Yes, she’s my baby daddy’s too but in my personal life, she’s my little shining star that keeps me motivated and moving.

Hence, why I haven’t quit Rapture Ink.

“Who are you?” Rory asks just as I pluck my cell right out of her little fingers and bring it up to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Opie.” Hudson’s deep and gravelly tone sets my heart racing. He’s just touched and corresponded with something that is my world and I don’t want him asking any questions about it.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Stoll?”

“Eh, you can drop that shit right now,” he lightly chides. “We’re way past that in our relationship, don’t you think?”

“Why are you calling me after business hours?”

“There are no business hours when you’re my little bitch, Opie.”

I scoff leaves my lips and it’s barely audible. “I told you I would feed you. Why are you calling me?”

“I’m waiting for you to tell me you’re bringin’ that pretty ass over here to do just that.”

I’d be flattered a little bit if he wasn’t such a dickhead when he said with so much sarcasm that he should get a reward for not choking on it. “I’m not hand-feeding you.”

“Yeah, but you can watch me as I do.”

My fingers death-grip my phone because he needs a woman. Something to do since he’s so damn bored. “I can’t leave my house.”

“Who’s the kid?”

No.

No. No. No. No.

“Babysitting,” I half lie, then pivot and mutter as I walk back toward the kitchen. “She’s my roommate’s kid.”

And there’s the full lie.

I never thought I’d ever have to do that with Hudson. For the most part, I have no issue telling him what’s on my mind or the things I like.

But Rory is a whole other story.

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