Page 38 of Cash

I had no intention of being that girl.

He and his biker brethren would look at us as if we were nothing more than the whores who lived down the street. I wanted more than that from any man who was actively participating in my life.

Much more.

I simply didn’t know if he was willing to give more. If he wasn’t, I’d enjoy his company when he was willing to give it. I wouldn’t, however, agree to sex under the carport while purple rain fell from the sky unless he’d expressed a different level of interest in me.

So far, he hadn’t done anything wrong, but his level of sincerity was currently in question.

Jennifer came out of the dressing room with the dress draped over her shoulder. “What do you think?”

“About the dress?”

“I’m getting the dress,” she said. “I meant about seeing if he has any willing friends.”

He may have had friends who would fuck Jennifer until she limped when she walked, but I wasn’t willing to find out. At least not yet. Cash had my undivided attention, but until he took a few steps in my direction, I wasn’t going to have sex with him, nor was I going to do anything to lead him to believe women like me – or my neighbor – were easy prey.

“When he comes by the next time – if there’s a next time – I’ll see what he says.”

She shouldered her purse and gave me a look. “If? I thought you sucked his dick until he went blind?”

“I did.”

“Bikers like blowjobs more than barbeque, beer, or billiards.” She walked past me. “You swallowed, right?”

“Sure did.”

“There’ll be a next time,” she said over her shoulder.

I clutched my purse and followed her down the hallway. “Barbeque, beer, and billiards? Did you learn that on Netflix?”

“No, I’m done with that series. I’ve seen them all, twice. I’m on to reading biker books now.”

“Biker books?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Biker romance novels.”

“There’s biker romance novels?”

“Thousands of them,” she said.

“I’m sure they’re accurate,” I said in a sarcastic tone.

“As long as they keep bringing on dreams like the one I had last night, who cares?”

I followed her to the register without saying another word. I had my doubts that biker romance novels would be accurate, but I had further doubts I’d be able to go the next twenty-four hours without at least taking a look at one.