Page 31 of Sexy Bad Daddy

Garrett and I stare at each other until the door slams shut. “What the hell is going on?” he demands.

Maybe I should have asked Danny to stay.

“Um, it’s kind of a long story.”

“I have time.”

Shit. “I should probably keep packing while I explain.” I break eye contact and head down the hall to my bedroom, Garrett trailing along behind me.

“Why are you packing?”

“Seemed the logical next step.” I pull open a drawer and dump the contents into my suitcase. Naturally, it’s my underwear. Because this situation is certainly not uncomfortable enough.

Garrett doesn’t pull his gaze away from the silk and satin. “Why don’t you tell me what that incredibly convoluted exchange was all about first. Then we can discuss your sleeping arrangements.”

Time to come clean. About one secret, anyway. Sucking in a deep breath, I say, “Okay, here’s the deal: Danny and I have been best friends for half our lives. Just friends. We’ve never hooked up, ever. He’s like a brother, so the idea is, frankly, gross.”

“So what was the comment about sharing his bed tonight?” Garrett asks, sounding deceptively calm.

I wave at my half-packed suitcase. “Whenever I’m between jobs, I crash at his place. He has like a hundred roommates and there’s no extra bed, so I just share his.”

“You’ve slept with the guy and he’s never tried to score a hole in one?”

“You and the golf analogies.” I shake my head. “But no. We’ve been friends since he was pre-pubescent with a face full of zits and a stiff wind got him excited. Well, I suppose that still happens, but anyway, not with me. We are legitimately just friends.”

“What about the cheesecake?”

“Oh.” I don’t need to look in the mirror to know I’m unsuccessful at fighting off the blush staining my cheeks as I recall, with vivid detail, how incredibly delicious that cheesecake was. And how incredibly delightful the ensuing physical activities were. That concoction definitely lived up to its reputation that evening. “That woman you saw him with? He’s been trying to get into her pants for a while now. He knows I’m a good cook, so he asked me to make it so he could offer it to her, in hopes he’d finally score. But as you can attest to, he ended up not needing the help.”

“Nope, he definitely didn’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if they banged in his car in the parking lot.”

“Actually, it was her car, since Danny doesn’t own one. And yeah, you’d be correct.”

“I can’t believe you guys tell each other this stuff. I mean, I used to tell my brother I got laid all the time just to give him shit because he wasn’t. But now that he’s living with Chloe, I’m pretty sure he’s scoring way more than I do, so it’s no fun anymore. But you and the weirdly not-gay best friend … that’s a whole other level I can’t even wrap my head around.”

“Trust me, I know how odd it is. But it works for us.”

“So, what about that night we met? At the bar. How come you lied to me then? Or were you actually dating someone at the time?”

Shaking my head, I pull a stack of pajamas—which are mostly just oversized T-shirts—out of the dresser and head over to drop them into my suitcase.

“Stop,” Garrett says, reaching for me. He clamps his hand onto my wrist. “Just stop packing for a minute. Okay?”

“Does this mean you aren’t mad?”

“I’m fucking pissed, actually.”

I tug my arm out of his grasp and inch away from him. Definitely not a good time to tell him he reminded me of someone else that night. “I’m sorry. I know it was wrong to lie to you. I just … Well, you were hot. And older. And forward. And apparently I have a type, so I try to stay away from guys like you.”

“You have a type?”

“Well, I screwed you, didn’t I? And you aren’t the first one.”

“What number am I?”

“The second.”

“You’ve slept with only two guys?”

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