Page 59 of The Dallas Dilemma

If I tell him the truth, he could leave.

And Twila is right. If I keep everything buried inside me, I might end up exploding and dumping him before he can do it to me, first.

I need more time to figure this out. A few more days won’t kill me, right?

CHAPTER TWENTY

Dallas

I’ve been textingwith Josette every day, but she’s been toobusyto get together in person. I know “busy” is code for “I’m freaking out and don’t want to face you,” and I’ve almost gone over to her place to confront her and get it all out in the open several times. I’m ready for this to be done with, and my resolution to let her tell me in her own time is thinning.

I know she’s scared. There’s nothing I want to do more than prove to her there’s nothing to fear. That I actually love that she’s JoeyB. That there’s no online interaction I look forward to more. That I’m so proud of her for sticking to her guns and standing up for herself in that space.

She finally texted me this morning to ask if Iwanted to hang out, and I invited her to my place for dinner. And because we’re a bit ahead of schedule, Linc let me take off an hour early so I could shower and get dinner ordered before she comes over. I also straighten up my apartment and make a fresh pitcher of sweet tea.

As I stir the concoction, my mind wanders back to when I first met Josette. How I decided to make tea just so I’d have a valid excuse to go over and talk to my beautiful neighbor. I’m so glad I did that. I don’t want to even consider my life without her in it.

The food arrives––quickly for a Friday night––and I divvy up the chicken tenders and fries onto two plates. I know it’s not fancy, but Josette once mentioned how much she loves it, so I think it’s a perfect choice. Just as I’m setting the plates and the pitcher of iced tea on the table, there’s a knock on the door.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Tonight is all about showing Josette that I’m falling for her. That nothing she could tell me will scare me off. I want her to trust me enough to tell me what she knows about our Cackle alter-egos. To trust that I’m in this with her. One-hundred percent.

When I finally swing open the door, I freeze, my gaze taking her in. She’s wearing a denim miniskirt with a white t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder. And she’s barefoot. The shirt makes it obvious in every way that she’s not wearing a bra, making me wonder if she’s wearing underwear beneath that tiny skirt.

“Wow,” I say, then clear my throat. “I meanthi.”

“Hi,” she says with a soft smile, her cheeks blooming with heat.

I realize I’m blocking the entrance as I continue to stare. Snapping into action, I move to the side and motion for her to come in. She grins as she moves past me, then walks toward the kitchen as I close and lock the door.

“Is thatFlocker’s?” she asks, staring down at the plates I left on the table.

“It is,” I say, moving in and hugging her from behind. Tilting my head, I press a light kiss to the side of her neck before saying, “I’ve missed you.”

“Me, too,” she whispers, leaning back into me for a second before stiffening in my arms.

I release her instantly, but keep the smile on my lips as I pull out a chair for her. She thanks me and slides into it, shaking out a napkin and spreading it over her lap as I fill two glasses from the pitcher of tea.

“How did you know I loveFlocker’schicken tenders?” she asks as I take my seat.

“You mentioned it once,” I say, ripping open one of the little tubs of sauce that came with my order.

“I did?” she asks, opening her own sauce before picking up a fry and dunking it.

“Yeah. We were watching that documentary about the cult, and a commercial came on. You said you love these tenders more than you love your sister.”

“Huh,” she says on a laugh. “I barely remember that.”

I remember everything you say.

I don’t say the words aloud because I don’t want things to get uncomfortable. I know she’s struggling withher secret, and me saying romantic shit like that will only make things harder for her.

We talk as we eat, making each other laugh like we did before this Cackle thing stretched between us. The problem is, no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to keep my eyes from dipping down every time she laughs. Her lack of a bra is to blame for my distraction, and the visible outline of her nipples along with the huskiness in her laughter is making me hard.

And my erection is superseding my good sense and my resolve to get Josette to spill her guts tonight so we can put all the cloak and dagger stuff behind us. I don’t like the distance she’s put between us this week, and apparently, neither does my cock.

As we both finish eating, I try to will my erection away while staring into Josette’s eyes. I’m hoping this is the moment. That she’ll admit what she knows so I can assure her it doesn’t change the way I feel about her. She clears her throat, and my heart speeds up as I hold her gaze.

This is it. She’s going to tell me.

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