Page 58 of Down & Dirty

I stared up at the ceiling, my mind barely online. The broadness of his question would have been laughable, if not for the accusation in his tone. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Ellis? What the fuck is this?”

A shiver of nerves went through me. Cory and I had been “out” in the world for months, but I’d assumed Tommy either hadn’t seen the photos the other day or he hadn’t cared. Last night might have changed all that, but we didn’t get the chance to seal the deal, so to speak.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, both because I wanted to know how he’d figured it out, and to buy some time. His reaction was stronger than I’d anticipated.

“You’re fucking the guy, Skylar!”

I bolted upright. “What?”

We never got to the kissing part. I’d even felt badly about missing the opportunity, knowing it had been the main reason we’d gone to that damn movie in the first place. The red carpet photos were nice, but nothing says “currently dating” like a good public display of grossness.

But we hadn’t done that.

“I’m looking at the damn photos, don’t try to deny it.”

“What photos?” I scrambled for my laptop on the corner of my bed, shoving a week’s worth of clothes out of my way and hearing the thud of the water bottle I’d been looking for as it hit the floor.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like I’m stupid. This is where you were last night? When our son had an attack, this is what you were doing? Fucking around with this asshole?”

I took a long slow breath, fighting for composure, because there were so many things wrong with what he’d just said. But in the end, I let Tommy sit in silence as my eyes pored over the google results for Cory’s name.

It was me. And him. Me and him,in the truck, making out.

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

“Sky!”

I screwed my eyes shut, the pain wrapped around my skull beating in time with my racing heart.

“Tommy, I’ve been seeing Cory for two months now. Its none of your damn business who I date, and last night Elle was with our son, and he was perfectly safe. Get the hell off whatever high horseyou’re trying to ride around on. You don’t get to tell me how to live my life or who I can spend time with. Go play house with Geena and leave me alone.”

I hung up. Putting the phone on do not disturb, I tossed it onto the bed beside me, rubbing my temples as I tried to catch my breath.

How had this happened?

It occurred to me that these photos could have been taken by a photographer Cory hired, a plant meant to make it look real again. But last time he’d made sure I was okay with the shots before they went public. A twinge of pain in my heart told me just how little I liked the idea that he wouldn’t have offered me the same courtesy this time. Especially with photos like these. The prospect that he’d have gone behind my back to set this up stung more than I wanted to admit.

But I was the one who’d asked for “practice” in the truck. He was halfway out the door. So, unless the goal was to photograph us holding hands as we walked to the red carpet—where we were already planning to be photographed holding hands—it seemed unlikely this was a pre-planned thing.

And maybe I was refusing to think he’d have done that because I trusted him. He’d given me reason to, and I didn’t want to throw that away so quickly.

I opened my eyes again, scrolling down the gossip blog that had posted the photos. There were several from the red carpet, too. We looked nice. We even looked good together. Him with his curly hair and scruff jaw all fancied up by his suit and tie, towering over me in my sleek black dress and red lips.

In every photo his hands were on me; holding me to him like he wanted the whole world to know exactly what was going on between us. The way his fingers dripped off my hip bone, they were in the perfect spot to skim the top of my ass.

The fact that I would not have been mad if he had told me all I needed to know about how far my feelings for Cory Ellis had evolved in the last two months.

But what stopped me short, stealing my breath, were the photos at the bottom of the post. The photographer had captured us kissing, but he’d also snapped the moments before that. And in every one Cory was looking at me...No, he was gazing at me with such affection it made my heart twist.

Because it was real.

These photos hadn’t been taken in a moment of show. We had no idea they were being taken at all. So, the way he was smiling at me, the sweet caress of his knuckles across the blush on my cheeks. The sparkle in his eye, and the slight flush I could see now on his own face— all of this was real.

I scrolled up and down the page, my pulse starting to race. No man had ever looked at me like that. And even if they had, I’d certainly never liked it as much as I did now.

---