Page 28 of The Pucking Wrong Man

“Freddie, switch with me,” I hissed. I needed more time to get my shit together. This had to be perfect.

He glanced at me, his freckled nose scrunching up toward his auburn eyebrows like I’d lost my mind. “Why?”

Fuck, she was moving to the next station.

“Because…because I’m allergic to peanuts. I can’t handle them anymore.”

“Pssh. You’re not allergic to peanuts, Camden James. I saw you eating a Snickers last week.”

I snarled at him before peeking to see that she was now only one station away.

If I switched now, she’d notice and probably think it was weird.

Freddie followed my line of sight, leaning forward as a big smile appeared on his ruddy cheeked face. He was staring at her, a big smile stretched across his lips.

He was also tilting forward a little precariously. I could just push him—a light push really—and he would stop grinning at my girl.

“Stop looking!” I hissed, trying to block his view. Freddie chuckled, shaking his head at me before he leaned back and widened his eyes dramatically.

I swung my head back around to find her again…

And then she was there.

Her plate outstretched as she stared at me politely.

Politely.

Like I was nobody.

Here I was, having the most visceral reaction of my life, and she was staring at me as if I was paint drying on a friend’s wall that she was forced to look at.

“Hello. I mean, hi. I mean...do you want a cookie?” I was fumbling all over myself trying to hand her a cookie and a sub at once, but really, who could blame me for the fact that my fucking brain was short-circuiting.

She was flawless, stunning, so perfect that she couldn’t possibly be real.

There had to be a flaw somewhere. Was there a hairy back hiding under the oversized sweatshirt she was wearing?

No. Fuck. She’d been wearing a low-backed spandex looking outfit while she’d performed last night.

Definitely no hairy back problems.

“A cookie and a sandwich would be great,” she murmured, her voice a soft caress against my...dick.

Thank fuck this table was pretty high, there’d be no hiding the baseball bat in my jeans right now. Why had I worn jeans this tight to begin with? I was throwing every pair of these things away the second I got home. They were strangling my dick.

The only thing I was interested in strangling my dick was her pussy.

Fuck! Stop thinking about your dick, Camden!

“Here, you go, Ms. Anastasia,” Freddie said, handing her one of the cookies from my tray because evidently I’d forgotten how to be a functioning human being.

Anastasia. I repeated the name in my head like a prayer, ready to worship at its altar. I hated that it was coming from another man’s lips.

“Thanks, Freddie,” she said sweetly and I almost bit his arm off.

“Here’s another one!” I said frantically as I all but tossed it onto her plate.

The cookie began sliding off, but right before it could fall, she snatched it and plopped it back on her plate.

---