She laughs. "This is why methodical works. Besides, you can check out my ass naked anytime."
"Yeah. Or I could do both."
"Hmm. Persuasive."
"You don't want to go, say so. It won't hurt my feelings."
"Not at all?"
My smile spreads over my cheeks. "You like thinking of me wounded."
"Maybe." She scoops a piece of salmon into her mouth, chews, swallows. "You swear your motives are all located south of your waist?"
"On my right hand."
She shakes her head.
"That isn't enough?"
"Nope."
"I work with my hands."
"You have a left hand. You'll learn to make do."
I can't help but laugh. This girl does something to me. I like it. Even though I shouldn't. "You want me to swear on my cock?"
"It is the source of your motives. Supposedly."
"I swear on my cock. I'm inviting you hiking because I want to spend the afternoon staring at your ass then stripping you out of your sweaty clothes and fucking you."
Her cheeks flush.
"I'll skip the shirt."
She holds out her hand. "Sold."
We shake.
Chapter Eleven
Walker
My cell buzzes in my jeans.
My head fills with thoughts of Iris.
Lying on my couch.
Pulling her dress to her waist.
Flipping over, arching her back, and begging me to take her.
But she isn't the one calling me.
Incoming Call from Sabrina Williams.
No fucking way.
I stare at my cell until the call goes to voicemail.
A moment later, a new message notification pops up on my cell.
Then a fucking text.
Sabrina: Can we talk? Mom and Dad are driving me crazy. I miss my baby brother.
Walker: I have plans today. I'll call next weekend.
Or never.
Never is good.
I run my hand through my hair. I need to talk to my parents. No, that isn't enough.
I need to convince them to actually make due on their threats. The gentle approach isn't doing shit to get my sister clean, but they never manage to muster up the balls for tough love.
I slide my cell into my jeans.
Iris is going to be here soon. We're going to drive up to Malibu and take in a beautiful, blue day. And then I'm going to drive her home and fuck her senseless.
Today is a good day.
Bree isn't ruining that.
I grab a stool and take a seat at the counter next to Kaylee. She's writing something on her laptop. Every few minutes, she looks up to ogle Brendon. She gets off on watching him work. And on his dark eyes, dark hair, dark tattoos—she gets off on pretty much every single thing about him.
She's like a cartoon character with hearts in her eyes.
He is too.
It's sickening. Even if I'm happy for them.
"Hey." She looks up from her laptop. Offers me a smile. Then her green eyes are on her boyfriend.
"Dreamy, isn't he?"
She laughs. "I know you're making fun of me, but I'm going to agree anyway." She sighs with pleasure. "He's just so… focused. And tall. And beautiful."
"He is tall."
"He's everything." She sets her elbow on the counter, tilts her head, rests her hand on her palm.
It's cute how gaga she is. I'm pretty sure Kaylee has been in love with Brendon for eight or nine years now. She's been his little sister's Emma's best friend forever and she's pretty much always had a crush on him.
At some point last year, he started wanting her too.
It was fucked-up shit, because she wasn't eighteen yet.
She's only barely eighteen now.
But I do get it. Not for me, but for him. The two of them giggle like crazy around each other, share a million inside jokes, have complimentary tastes in fuck.
Back then, she was innocent the way he likes. Now… not as much.
He finishes a line, wipes his brow, turns back to her. Shoots her fuck me eyes.
She lets out a wistful sigh.
I laugh. "You've got it bad."
"I'm madly in love with my boyfriend, yes. You should try it."
"No thanks."
"Have you ever been in love?"
"No." But I've loved someone and that was plenty to teach me not to do it again.
"Then how can you know you're not interested?"
"Have you ever tied your boyfriend up?"
"No." Her nose screws with distaste. "Of course not."
"Then how do you know you don't like it?"
"That's a stupid question."
"It's the same question."
She shakes her head your loss.
I flip through my sketchbook, find my next mockup, bring it to the scanner, and get to work on making a temporary tattoo.
The printer hums.
I grab the paper and scissors. Bring them back to the counter.
Dean is on the opposite side of the counter. He sets his hands on the plastic and leans closer. "Kinky Kay. You working on something good?"
"Maybe." She presses her lips together.
"You are." He laughs. "You ever gonna show off this dirty book of yours?"
"When's the last time you read a book?" I ask.
He turns to me. "It happened once."
Kaylee laughs. "Back in high school?"
"Were they out of SparkNotes?" I tease.
"And CliffsNotes. That was bullshit." He shakes his head with mock offense. Turns to Kay. "I'll make an exception for your masterpiece."
"Uh-huh." She presses her laptop shut.
He mimes being stabbed in the gut. Stumbles backward. Falls onto the floor and stretches out like a star fish.
"He's demo-ing his favorite sex position," I say.
"Huh?" Kaylee raises a brow.
"You've never heard of starfish?" I ask.
She folds her arms. "Really?"
"Yeah. It's when the person on the bottom just lays there. No moaning, no panting, no thrusting, no touching. The pinnacle of a bad lay," I say.
"Yeah. There's a reason why Walker is so familiar." Dean jumps—actually jumps—to his feet. "It's his signature. Only he does it on top. Why do you think he never does repeats?"
"I've never seen you with the same woman twice," she says.
"Have you ever seen me with a woman?" he asks.
"Well, no… but I haven't seen Walker with one either. You never invite me out," she says.
"You're not twenty-one," I say.
"Uh-huh." She shakes her head, not buying it.
"Tell me, Kay." Dean leans in close enough to stage whisper. "Brendon ever starfish?"
Her cheeks flush. But she doesn't look embarrassed. More turned on. "No."
"He into you doing it?" Dean asks.
She shakes her head.
He looks to me. "She's barely fazed by this now."
"You have to up your game," I say.
"Seriously. How could Brendon do this to me? How could he corrupt you like that? Doesn't he know it's easier to torture you if you're a blushing virgin?" Dean asks.