Page 12 of Inked Adonis

I have no answer for that.

“That’s what I thought. Now, I’m going back to sleep for another hard fifteen, and then I have to get ready for a new client. Text me what lover boy says once you grow a pair.”

“Hope—”

“Loveyoubyeee.”

She hangs up on me and I’m left to stare at my phone like the ticking time bomb it is.

My hand actually trembles as I hover over the screen.

“God, get it together,” I mutter. Gritting my teeth, I bite the bullet and open the text.

SAMUIL:I wasn’t aware that the Rufus treatment was part of your services. Just for future reference, Rufus isn’t my type. His walker, on the other hand…

My heart flutters like a hummingbird on meth.

He’s flirting with me. Actuallyflirtingwith me. Hope was right.

My vision blurs behind a veil of stars and suddenly, I see the two of us, walking down Lincoln Park hand in hand.

Ridiculous. Stop it.

One silly little text message, and I’m already getting literal years ahead of myself. I wipe my sweaty hands on my shirt and try to come up with an appropriate, flirty, witty, effortlessly effervescent reply.

It’s harder than it sounds. Mostly because I have zero game when it comes to men. Hope’s horrendously inappropriate meddling has gotten me further with a man than any of my own attempts ever have. It’s sad.

I’m not even sure I want to be tangled up with someone like Samuil Litvinov. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be “tangled up” with him? But a relationship with the richest man in the city sounds complicated.

Then again, my vibrator’s been working overtime lately, and the man’s face belongs in a museum. Now probably isn’t the time to get picky.

Before I can overthink it into oblivion, I type out a response.

NOVA:Rufus will be heartbroken to hear it. He was really into you.

No, I save the panic forafterI’ve sent the message.

Too casual? Too eager? Not eager enough?This is why I’m perpetually single.

I stare at his message and my response, reading and rereading until it hits me that I have a job to do. I have exactly eight minutes to get my ass across two blocks for my first client of the day.

Throwing on a light coat and grabbing my bag, I dart out of my messy apartment and jog to pick up Trixie.

I’m almost there when my phone buzzes, and I screech to a stop, earning me death glares from the suits power-walking behind me. They grumble and complain, but I’m too busy pulling out my phone to care about their morning commute.

SAMUIL:Was he the only one?

I grin so hard my cheeks hurt.

My body practically aches to respond right away, but a year away from the dating game hasn’t changed the one fundamental rule I know to be true: You can’t make yourself too available.

No one likes catching dead fish,Hope always says.Men want something with a little wiggle in it.

I don’t love that I’m a fish in the analogy, but she isn’t wrong. So instead of replying right away, I pocket my phone, pick up Trixie, and walk over to Jackson Park. All the while, I noodle around with possible replies.

Only when we’re settled on our usual route do I allow myself to respond. I write and delete at least a dozen messages before I snap a picture of Trixie, her one good eye gleaming and her crooked tongue lolling out the side of her mouth like always.

NOVA:Not at all. Rufus told my other clients all about you. Trixie’s interested, too. You might want to dress down if you’re passing by Jackson Park. I don’t want to overstimulate her.

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