Page 2 of Loving Lex

“Thanks, man. I really appreciate that.”

“It’s no big deal.” I was about to argue that point, but he cut me off. “Hey, you heard anything from Finn lately? That slippery Cajun asshole hasn’t answered any of my texts or calls in over a month.”

“No. He’s pretty much ghosted me, too. Last I heard he took a job in Montana somewhere.”

“Well, we’ve kept an eye on the few people in his hometown he asked us to keep tabs on for him. I’ve just been texting him updates that everyone’s status quo, no changes, other than some girl got engaged last month. He’s gone radio silent ever since then. Hope everything’s okay. Think I should dig any deeper or just let Finn be Finn?”

We both knew what he meant by that. Our buddy Finn was a bit of a loner. He kept to himself on a good day, and that was before the war and helicopter accident fucked with his mind and body.

I ran a hand over my head, wondering if I should worry or not. I had so much on my plate already. “Let’s give him a little longer. If we don’t hear from him soon, then maybe see what you can find out.”

“Fair enough.”

We shot the shit for a little bit longer, and he filled me in on the rest of the team and their families. Sounded like everyone had their hands full as usual, so I was extra thankful they’d take the time to help me out.

“You don’t know how grateful I am, Lucky,” I said before we said goodbye. “I know how busy you are.”

“Save it, man,” he said. “That’s what brothers are for.”

After we hung up, I dug my mail key out of the side pocket of my bag, then opened the scratched up little metal door with ‘314’ stamped on it. Nothing much was inside, mostly junk mail and flyers. I paid all my bills online, so there wouldn’t be any of those, but I knew my mother. She was old school and liked to send handwritten things. For that reason alone, I checked that box every other day.

As I dumped the junk in the trash can, the fast clip of heels on concrete caught my attention, and none other than little Duchess rounded the corner toward the mailboxes, this time sporting a white halter sundress and those fancy high-heeled shoes with the red soles women go crazy for, instead of those barely-there shorts that I’ll admit drove me a little bit crazy.

I took her in from head to toe in one fast sweep, slowing to take in her muscular, toned, sun-kissed legs that went on forever. They gave her small size a sense of power that grabbed me right in the balls as I imagined those sexy legs clamped around my head as she fucked my mouth.

“Can I help you?”

I blinked the image free and forced my focus to her face. I stepped aside so she could get to her box, three down from mine. “I’m sorry?”

“You were staring,” she said. “It’s rude.”

She turned her back to me to open the box for 317, and the subtle scent of something sweet floated over me. Her dark hair was shiny, and the tips just skimmed her bare shoulders. A hint of ink peeked out when her hair moved—a small ornate design decorating the back of her slender neck, making my cock twitch for the second time in less than an hour.

Fuck, I needed to get laid, if atattoowas getting me hard.

“Sorry, Duchess,” I murmured, flipping through the remaining flyers and insurance ads in my hand. “Didn’t mean to offend.”

She whirled expertly on those fancy heels. “Excuse me?”

“Can I help you?” I asked, echoing her smart-ass remark.

Propping her fists on her hips, silver bracelets slid down her wrists as she narrowed her eyes in a glare. “What did you call me?”

Hell, if I could remember. Her anger was too glorious to think of anything else. Jesus, seeing her up close, she was fucking stunning. Her eyes were hazel, inching closer to green, but the smoky dark shit she had lining them made them almost glow gold. Her mouth was full and painted red to match those damn heels.

I could cocky-flirt and be a smart-ass with the best of them, and the fire in those eyes made me want to rise to the challenge, but I had the feeling she’d give me a run for my money, and I liked that entirely too much.

“Duchess,” I said finally, letting a grin pull at my mouth. It felt foreign. I hadn’t done much of that lately.

She tilted her head cockily. “Why?”

I let my eyes drop to pan her and had to chuckle when she made a show of doing the same thing. “Because it suits you,” I said finally. “You look like you’re on a reality TV show about rich girls surviving in the ghetto.”

The spark in her eyes clouded over, and she averted them, blinking a few times as the space between her perfect brows crinkled. “Guess you figured me out there, Johnny Bravo,” she bit out, turning back to her box, key in hand. “Stupid, silly rich girl trying to survive in your big, bad world.” She tossed her hair back dramatically and batted her eyes at me over her shoulder, the spark reignited. “I don’t know if I can handle this complicated lock thingy, Johnny. Can you show me?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Johnny Bravo? Really?”

Pulling out what looked like a bunch of bills before closing and locking the door, she leaned close and patted my chest. “It suits you,” she whispered.

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