Page 21 of Filthy Ruck

He absorbed my response and nodded. “Then we better do that. Go out on a date. If you want to, I mean. I like you and I think you like me. I wouldn't mind finding out where this could go.”

I glanced around to make sure no one was listening before I asked, “It doesn't bother you that half of Dusk Bay has seen me naked?” Not to mention the percentage of the male population of the city who paid to fuck me. Having sex with someone like me was one thing. Being involved in a relationship, even a friendship, was another. Some guys couldn't look past their own jealousy.

“I don't care.” He shook his head. “It doesn't bother me if they'veallseen you naked. I have endorsements for underwear, and I did an ad once where they photographed my naked ass and put it in the pages of a magazine.” He pulled out his phone, tapped on the screen and turned around to show me.

“Your ass is adorable,” I said. And now I wanted to bite it. Or lick tequila off his ass cheeks.

“It's okay.” He shrugged and put his phone back down on the table. “Not as nice as yours.” He hesitated for a moment. “Are you going to keep…you know?”

“Working at Flirts? Only until I have a permanent job, hopefully here with the Smashers.”

“Right,” he said slowly. “Good. Like I said, I like you. I don't want to have to go there every night and punch out every guy who looks at you the wrong way.”

“That's sweet,” I said, “But the bouncers would throw you out at the first swing.”

“Then I'd have to follow them out and beat the crap out of them outside,” he said unapologetically.

“I think you like your job too much to risk it,” I said.

“It's only at risk if I get caught,” he pointed out. “So, dinner on Monday night?”

“I might have to check my schedule,” I said.

He picked up my phone and tapped on the screen. “You should put a passcode on this. Anyone could look at your stuff.” He opened the calendar and pressed on Monday. Squinting, he tapped in 'dinner with Daniel Frost' for six PM. He closed the calendar and opened the contacts app to tap in his phone number. With a sly grin, he pressed on his number to call himself.

“There, we have each other's phone number and a time.”

“You're right, I should put in a passcode,” I said dryly. “Fine, dinner at six. Text me where and I'll meet you there.”

“I don't mind picking you up.” He looked as though he was ready to argue. Like he should insist on being chivalrous, because it was the manly thing to do. Or something similar.

“And I don't mind meeting you there,” I said. I'd learned long ago not to be trusting, no matter how sweet a guy seemed to be. One minute they were asking you out and giving you flowers, and the next they were turning up at your place expecting a fuck. Or taking photos of you through the curtains. Or threatening your life because of who you happened to be related to.

“I want to punch whoever made you feel like you can't trust me,” he said. His expression darkened with annoyance.

“It's no big deal,” I said lightly.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “It is a big deal. I'll do whatever I have to do to earn your trust. If I do anything to break it, I'll punch myself.” He raised his fist and mimed driving it into his own face.

“Don't make promises you might not be able to keep,” I told him. “Shit happens, whether you want it to or not. Besides, you don't know if you can trust me.”

“Of course I do,” he said easily. “What is it they say? 'Trust me, I'm a doctor.' If I can't trust you, who can I trust?”

I supposed he had a point. Doctors were supposed to be dependable and reliable. I strove to be both of those things. On the other hand, blind faith sometimes led to disappointment. If he was going to jump into anything with me, I needed him to have his eyes wide open. He needed to understand who the real Chelsea Miller was, not just Doctor Chelsea, or Chelsea the sex worker. Rose coloured glasses weren't good for anyone.

“I'm starting to think you're too sweet for your own good,” I said.

The best thing I could do for him would be to walk away. Especially given my last conversation with Storm Keller. Would he give Frost a hard time for going out with me? Probably, and that would create tension the team didn't need.

Admittedly, while I didn't want them at odds with each other, Storm didn't control me, or who I went out with. Having dinner with Frost might remind him of that.

Or it might make the situation worse.

“I'm not as sweet as I look,” Frost said. “If you could see inside my brain right now, you wouldn't think I'm even a tiny bit sweet. Most of my thoughts involve you naked, lying on your back while I stick my cock in your pussy. The other ones involve you on your knees, sucking my cock.”

“That's better,” I said approvingly. “I prefer not to think I'm corrupting you.” I wasn't naïve enough to think I was leading him astray in any way. He'd had plenty of women to do that before he met me.

“If you did, I'd be there for it,” he said. “I lost my virginity to my mother's best friend. I should say, former best friend. My mother wasn't impressed when she found out. Although, she took my best friend's virginity, so I think we're even. In case you're wondering, yes, my best friend was the son of her best friend. It was all very incestuous and shit.” He grinned.

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