Page 34 of Hot Doggin'
“Coming right up, big guy.” Tex thrusts his slim hip in Mandy’s direction and winks his glitter-shadowed eyelid, and Mandy’s back to drooling again.
When he’s out of earshot, West complains, “I can’t eat another bite. What am I gonna do with cake?”
“Fucking stuff it in your mouth,” Mandy orders. “I can’t tip him if we don’t order food.”
West shoots me a covert eye roll and I grin. Mandy’s got it bad for the little blond showboat. The problem is, he won’tdoanything about it.
And when the check comes, Mandy blanches when we hand over ten-dollar bills.
Jax scoffs. “Fuck, dude. All I ordered was coffee and cake. How much you want me to tip?”
Mandy holds his palm out until we add more bills to the pile. It’s the most expensive dessert I’ve ever ordered.
Nacho laughs. “Good lookin’ out, my man. Tex is gonna make out like a king tonight with these tips.”
“He should,” Mandy defends. “He’s a vet working on Veteran’s Day, busting his skinny little ass in that getup to make a buck. Least all y’all cheap fucks can do is make it worth his while.”
Mac elbows me and I swallow my grin. Mandy in love is adorable.
CHAPTER
TEN
MCCORMICK
Little piecesof him are gathering in every room.
My bathroom mirror is covered with sticky notes reminding Stiles of daily tasks. The ones stuck to the fridge remind him of appointments, and the ones on the front door remind him of the birthdays and important dates of his closest friends. Inside the medicine cabinet is his toothbrush and his meds. His dirty laundry mingles with mine in the hamper.
Our lives are coalescing. Becoming entwined in ways we may never be able to separate fully. And that’s fine with me.
Stepping out of the shower, I give myself a quick towel dry and stride into my bedroom buck-ass naked, hoping Stiles might catch a glimpse. It’s been almost a week since our couch wrestling session and… nothing. Nada. Crickets! He’s scared, or trying to figure shit out, I don’t know, but I need him to act. Or react. Anything besides pretending it didn’t happen.
There’s a new pack of underwear lying on the bed and seeing that they’re black with hot dogs on them, I’m guessing they’re mine.
He bought me lingerie? Kinky.
Tearing open the plastic packaging, I pull them on and check my reflection in the full-length mirror behind the door.
“Fuck yeah, I look goooood.”
Screw pants, I’m showing all this sexiness off. I find Stiles sitting on the couch, flipping through the channel guide to find our show. “Where’d these come from?”
He gives me a quick glance, and then a longer double take, his dark gaze lingering on my ass.
“Found them on sale today. I thought they might be your thing.”
“Damn right they are.” I strut to the kitchen and make a show of bending over to grab a bottle of root beer from the fridge. When I straighten, his eyes are still on me. My ego is sufficiently stroked. I feel good, better than good, so I cut up and fuck with him, prancing like I’m walking a runway.
“Hey girl, do you want to come put some mustard on this dog?” My hands rub down my abs and I try for what I hope is a sexy smirk.
Stiles looks horrified. He shakes his head. “Don’t ever repeat that to a woman. No wonder you can’t get laid.”
I plop down next to him and prop my prosthetic leg on the coffee table to relieve some pressure. It’s been a long day and with my large frame, standing too long makes the muscles in my thigh ache.
The magazine I pilfered from Brewer’s office calls to me and I snatch it off the table and flip through it. It’s an issue of Men’s Health—Understanding your sexuality. This is my way of seeking self-help while avoiding an awkward conversation with Brewer.
I skim a few articles about the fluid nature of sexuality and coming to terms with such a major change and focus on a quiz because it’s fun and easy.
