Page 44 of Ruthless Love

Eff that.

Shoving the ring in the nearest drawer, I can’t help but notice the blinds closed across the street, but the lights glowing from behind them mean Austin is clearly home too. A smile pulls up my cheeks, because even without seeing him, it’s so easy to escape into the distraction of him. Too easy. Maybe ...

My heart races, and I’m seconds from implementing the most insane idea I’ve ever had.

I take a sweeping glance at my reflection in the bedroom’s full-length mirror. The skirt is sexier than I intended for work, and manages to hug a rounded ass built from pure yoga. The blouse is way too fussy, and I strip it off, trying a few different options. Thoughtfully, I’m ashamed to admit I half consider just the bra before tossing on a thin button-up cardigan that’s perfect, considering I won’t be wearing it for long.

My makeup has just enough give-a-damn that I bypass fixing it or I’ll completely chicken out, and I don’t bother with lipstick because if all goes well, it, too, will be gone soon enough.

I race into my walk-in closet, slide my hand in place, and my safe opens with a loud clack. I grab a grand. Not exactly sure of the going rate, I grab another one just to be safe. Or to cover the tip.

Momentarily, I flip-flop between the shoes I have on and something strappy.

Fuck it. With this money, I could have a bushed-out bikini and be wearing Birkenstocks, and it had better not make a damn bit of difference.

Totally disregarding my logic, I switch to the strappy Manolo Blahniks, because I’m the first-timer idiot who wants to make a good impression with a male hooker.

Taking the bundles of cash and roughly an ounce of pride, I muster up the courage to march my desperate ass and aching feet straight to his front door.

Why the hell did I switch shoes?

Squaring my shoulders, I ring the bell. It lights, and knowing he might be watching me right now from the doorbell camera, I stand a little taller with my chest out because, obviously, all women wanting his services probably lead with their tits.

The door opens. Austin’s steel-gray eyes darken on me as his gaze sweeps down my body, and my mind goes completely blank. He flashes me an impossibly handsome smile, and I’m speechless.

“Do you owe me money?” he asks with a laugh.

“Huh?”

He gestures to the clutched bundles of cash in my hand.

“Oh, uh, no. But I will.” When a look of intrigue comes over his face, I begin to ramble. “Look, I need a favor. And to trust you with a secret.”

Before I say or do anything more, I hear the raucous laughter of two boys stampeding to the door. Whatever brave ambitions I had thirty seconds ago have abandoned me faster than a nun at a strip club.

“Hi, Ms. Evie!” they both say, interrogating me with their eyes.

I didn’t notice before, but they look nearly identical except for one being slightly taller, and the other missing his front teeth.

The one I assume to be the six-year-old and younger of the two casts a joyful glance up at Austin. “Is she your girlfriend?”

Hiding a wave of heat flashing up my face, I abort my idiotic plan. “Sorry,” I say, fidgeting to tug my cardigan over my bosom. “I didn’t mean—”

Deciding to refrain from incriminating myself further down this slippery slope of illegal and immoral activities, I decide to back away slowly ... making the situation a thousand times worse when my heel slips off the entry path, and I tumble to my ass right on the grass. Skirt hiked. Spread eagle.

In an instant, I’m cradled in Austin’s secure arms as I hear an excited little whisper. “I think I saw her underwear.” The boys’ giggles make me wiggle in Austin’s arms.

“Put me down.” Ready to die of embarrassment on the spot, I avoid eye contact at all costs.

The second I’m on my feet, I scurry past the car pulling into his driveway, hobbling my slightly sore butt back to my place. Undeterred, I completely ignore Austin’s pleas for me to wait.

Like that’s happening.

As soon as I’m in my house, I toss the money on the table, about to tear off these cursed shoes when the doorbell rings.

Just ignore it.

A few short pounds turn louder and thunderous. “Evie? Open the door.”

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