Page 55 of Last Boy

I’ll give her something to suck on any day of the week.

“What exactly did you say?” she hisses through gritted teeth. “That is such an invasion of privacy.”

“I said you had some family things going on and that you would be out of town for the next week or so. And that if they could email you your assignments, that’d be fucking awesome.” I stop, winking. “I didn’t say fucking awesome, so don’t panic.” I nod toward her phone. “It’s all in your email. You can see exactly what I said, Poppyseed.”

“You had no right,” she growls, tipping her chin up at me. “That’s like…stalker, creepy, Lifetime movie ex-boyfriend type of shit!”

My eyes involuntarily roam down her neck, and my cock twitches. I always love when she gets feisty. I find it incredibly fucking hot, to be honest.

“What I think you mean to say is…Thank you, Walker. That was nice of you to take care of that in all your spare time,” I say smoothly. “So, you’re welcome.”

Her nostrils flare as she continues to glower up at me, but eventually, she trudges off into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

In a perfect world, she and I could use this next week or so of her healing to build back everything we lost. But what would be the point when she can’t be mine in the end anyway?

I’m already ruined for anyone else. But one more taste of her, and I’ll never want anything besides her. Another time inside of her, and I’ll be in too deep to get out.

Who am I kidding? I’ve been in too deep since we were kids. Everything in my life begins and ends with Poppy Wilson. And now, because of it, I’m about to pay the ultimate price.

I sit impatiently on the couch, staring mindlessly at the TV. Poppy went into the bedroom and locked the door over two hours ago and has yet to come out. Eventually, she needs to eat something and take her meds.

Fuck, her meds.

I look at my phone to see the last dose she had. Because, yes, like a fucking weirdo, I wrote it down. Given her family’s history of drug addiction, she refused anything from my uncle for pain, but has been steadily taking Motrin and Tylenol, and it’s seemed to help.

She has fifteen minutes until her next dose. If she isn’t out by then, I’m going to break the door down if I have to.

There’s a knock at the door, and even though I know it’s Hudson, I still check through the peephole. Sure enough, I find his handsome, gigantic self-standing there.

Hudson’s sister owns the strip club near Brooks, the one a lot of chicks who attend Brooks work at. Hudson’s worked there as a security guard every now and then for the past few years. But he’s also traveled with a lot of celebrities and rich people—my uncle included.

When Beckett and Natasha took Briar to Italy weeks ago, Hudson went with them as Briar’s personal bodyguard. But a few days ago, he flew back to the States. And perfect timing because he’s one of the few I’d trust with Poppy. He might be terrifying to some, but I know Poppy will be safe with him when I can’t be around.

Though I’ll admit, I worry she might be checking him out. I’ve only been around him at a few events, but women would turn into blubbering idiots when he so much as looked at them. Which makes me wonder how it went with him being Briar’s guard. Though my sister isn’t one to throw herself at any man. She’s tough. But for whatever reason, my uncle has turned her into a meek girl who does shit like agreeing to marry a man she doesn’t know.

Opening the door, I hold my hand out, and he clasps his hand with it and leans in, bumping his chest to mine.

“Well, if it isn’t Uncle Boobies’ biggest problem child,” he says with a grin. “You know, my sister is pissed at you. I was supposed to be working at Peaches these next few days.”

“Hey, I’m not his child at all,” I point out. “He’s just lucky that I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to Briar alone. When I do, I’ll make her an even bigger problem child.”

His face grows somber for a moment, and there’s no mistaking his sense of sadness. “Yeah, I, uh…how’s she doing?”

His fumbling over words surprises me because he’s not a man who does that. “Guess she’s getting married sometime soon,” I mutter, dragging my hand down the back of my neck. “Fuck if I know with that screwed up bunch.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, looking off in the distance. “It’s…it’s pretty fucked up. Isn’t it?”

“You ain’t kiddin’,” I drawl, opening the door wider. “Come on in, man. My…guest is in the bedroom right now. So, we can go over details.”

“Guest, huh?” He chuckles. “I’m going to start callin’ your ass Mr. Lewis.”

I scowl. “Who in the fuck is Mr. Lewis?”

“You know, Edward,” he deadpans. “The dude from Pretty Woman.”

I stare blankly at him. “Yeah, sorry, but I don’t watch chick flicks in my spare time.” I shake my head. “Isn’t that movie about a fucking hooker? Poppy sure as hell isn’t a hooker.”

He looks amused, and his lip twitches. “You ought to watch it in your spare time, young gun. Anyway, moving on since your ass clearly doesn’t appreciate a good movie, tell me…what’s the job? I got the gist of it on the phone earlier, but I want more details.”

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