Page 30 of Doughn't Let Me Go

He takes another big bite of pizza, grease dripping down his chin.

“Good gravy. Someone hold my panties.”

He chokes out a laugh, wiping at the mess. “Sorry. You can take the boy out of the ghetto, but you can’t always get him to act right.”

I file that bit of information away.

Maybe we have more in common than I thought.

Porter’s fancy phone buzzes across the bar top and he snatches it up, looking at the screen with concentration.

“Do you need to take that?” I ask.

“No, but I should probably look available for the person I’m meeting.”

“Oh.”

He turns to me, giving me his full attention.

“It’s not a date, Dory.” He leans toward me. “But tell me, would it upset you if it were?”

I stiffen, my eyes narrowing. “No.”

His gray eyes search my face for several beats before his lips pull up, and then he turns his attention back to the last few bites of his pizza.

“Thought so.”

It’s clear in the way he says it that he doesn’t believe me.

Ass.

I hate the way his words make me feel defensive, like I’m supposed to just fall at his feet and be jealous of every other girl he sleeps with because we had one night together.

That’s not who I am.

Porter can do whatever and whoever he wants.

He doesn’t belong to me.

It wasonenight.

“I’m going to go,” I say, taking another peek at my phone.

Less than five minutes until my meeting. I’m going to need every single one of them to compose myself after seeing Porter again.

“Thanks for the Coke.” I let my eyes linger, almost begging him to say something even when I know it’s best he doesn’t. “Goodbye, Porter.”

I turn from him, making my way to the door and taking a seat on the bench beside it. Pushing my shoulders back, I smooth my hands over the navy skirt I found on the clearance rack.

A loud scraping draws my eye toward the bar, and I see Porter stumble out of his stool.

I raise a brow, watching him.

He looks at his phone, then at me.

Then back to his phone.

Me again.

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