Page 64 of Hound Dog
And it had a picture of me.
I recognized the picture immediately. Enzo took it at last year’s Renaissance Faire. Thank God I didn’t dress up or anything.
But she was texting my photo to one of her friends.
Heart racing, I knew I should put the phone down. Walk away.
But Ineededto know what she’d said. Haylee played it so cool all the damn time, and this was the first inclination that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as even-keeled as she seemed.
Using my thumb, I scrolled lower in the text message.
I can’t sleep and I’ve been Facebook stalking him. Please tell me he’s not as hot as I think. Tell me I’m being crazy. Tell me I shouldn’t want him as much as I do and that I definitely shouldn’t be lying in bed, trying not to touch myself as I stare at his Facebook photos.
Trying not to touch myself as I stare at his Facebook photos…
Holy hell.
My pants tightened. Haylee was thinking about me while touching herself? Or… wanting to touch herself? Technicality.
She’d practically admitted to this friend that she was masturbating to me.
Shit. What had I done, reading that?
Forget the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to look at Haylee the same way ever again without getting a raging hard on. But more importantly, she was still taken, as far as I knew. So, knowing this not only made things harder—in more ways than one—but it meant I’d also betrayed her trust.
Seeing that text changed everything.
And somehow nothing, all at once.
Chapter Twenty
Haylee
Haylee
Finn was easily always four steps ahead of me on the trail, holding Tyson’s leash. It was no surprise that he would have made it to the top of Mount Washington first… if I didn’t have such a competitive streak in me.
Groaning, I pushed myself and looped Birdie’s leash tighter around my wrist. As I took off trotting, the lab-pit mix launched forward beside me, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth, happy to be running faster.
The summit was so close, I could almost see it through the trees.
My backpack bounced against me, heavily, and with my free hand, I hiked it higher on my shoulders.
“What are you doing?” Finn laughed. Damn him, he wasn’t even out of breath. “Was it not enough that I kicked your ass with my mad guacamole skills? You want to race now, too?”
Fuming, my hands curled around the straps of my backpack. I don’t know why I had such a stupid temper, but I couldn’t help it.
He’d already won the guacamole contest. All because I had no idea I’d be shooting myself in the foot by using what little feminine wiles I had to bring over those customers.
As soon as Finn took off his shirt, bachelorettes from near and far zoned in, buying his stupid roasted garlic guacamole and claiming it was “so good” he should jar it and sell it.
Talk about kicking me while I was down.
Not to mention, they were right. His guacamolewasreally freaking good.
“I’m not racing you,” I said, trying to keep my voice even and mask the huffing. It wasn’t my fault that I hadn’t had as many opportunities to hike as Finn.
That was the problem when your partner didn’t like the same things as you. Even when you claimed you could do those things without him… you hardly everactuallydid. “I just know we’re close and I’m pushing to the top.”
