Page 30 of Promiscuous Lies

A smile blossoms on my lips because although I’m definitely not taking dating advice from Eli or the twins, his suggestion isn’t a bad one.

Guess I’m bringing her dinner.

CHAPTER 15

Posie

I’m doing the dishes when there’s a knock on my door. My eyebrows furrow because eight in the evening is way too late for a delivery driver. There’s another knock, and I curse. I’d leave it if the person weren’t so persistent, and I wasn’t worried about it waking Bentley.

I collect the bat beside my door, bracing myself for the third knock. I open the door, and my left eye twitches when I see Dutton standing there, looking like he’s just stepped off the runway, holding a big brown bag that I’d much rather be over his head. Because, fuck, he looks too good for an insufferable asshole.

I swear the scowl is permanently etched onto his face unless he’s purposefully trying to rile me up.

Does this man ever smile?

I’ve only ever seen him smirk.

I guess I can’t expect too much. I’m sure he’s a psycho.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, making a point to show my bat.

He holds up the bag in his hand, and a pleasant scent of food hits my nose.

Persistent motherfucker can’t take no for an answer.

I narrow my gaze on him. “I never asked for this. I told you I was busy. Were you so spoiled as a child that the mere thought of being told no becomes like a kink to you or something?”

The corner of his mouth tilts up. “You don’t know anything of my kinks yet, sweetheart. But I’d gladly elaborate if you’re open for the discussion.”

“I’d like to skip to the short discussion of you getting the fuck off my porch.”

He might not laugh, but I can see the moment humor twinkles in his gaze. I don’t understand this enigma of a man. Is his ice shield so fucking high he doesn’t want anyone to know he has a personality? Then again, it’s highly possible he genuinely doesn’t have one. Not unless it’s being a pain in the ass and pissing people off, which he’s very good at.

“Let me in to feed you,” he encourages.

“No.” I close the door further in case Bentley hears or pops his head out of his room.

Dutton cracks his neck from side to side and licks his lips as if trying to remain calm.

Oh no, someone used the big “no” word again. Psycho.

“I’m being nice here, and nice is not something I’m overly familiar with,” he says.

“Good, neither am I.” I step back to push the door shut, but his foot stops it. I let out an irritated sigh. “I told you; I don’t want your food. I already ate, and you aren’t allowed in my house.”

“Take the fucking food then,” he snaps. He then clears his throat and looks away. “I’m sorry.”

My jaw drops. “What was that?”

His gaze remains on the ground for a moment before he looks back up at me as if willing the confidence to apologize to my face. “Please take the food.”

I glance at the bag. If I take it, he might actually leave.

“Did you poison it?”

“No.” He scoffs like he can’t believe I even considered it.

“Okay, did you spit in it?”

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