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I huff an exasperated laugh. “You’re still just as bad as ever. Eavesdropping to get all the town gossip?”

Maribel shrugs. “Some things never change, I guess.”

“So, do we all hate him still… or what? Do I have to pick a side? Sisi and Sutton are great, but you’re my ride-or-die forever, Josie,” Grace asks, and I know she has my back no matter what.

“Honestly, I don’t know anymore,” I reply, feeling a surprising sense of relief that I have one less secret to keep from her. “It’s been so long, and after seeing him now, I might be able to finally move on.”

Maribel has made her way from the doorway and comes to rest a hand on my shoulder.

“Honey, I’m not one to meddle in other people’s business,” she starts, prompting me to level a look at her that says we both know that’s not true. “I’m only saying there are plenty of people to hate in this town, but he isn’t one of them. You really need to talk to him.”

“Yeah, I’ll try to,” I say, not sure that I really mean it.

She seems to accept that and continues past me to the window at the front of the café. Looking across the street, she makes a disappointed sound. “Dang it. He’s not even wearing those hoochie-daddy shorts and showing off those tattooed thighs.”

Thank god, because the idea of Sly with thigh tats almost short-circuits my brain. My reaction to him wearing sweats was bad enough. Short shorts exposing his muscular legs…

I don’t know how I would have reacted if I actually saw them up close.

CHAPTER 17

SLY

Ashamed

Standing next to my car, I look across the street at the bakery door that Josie and her friend went in minutes ago, struggling to comprehend what I’m feeling right now. Watching her walk away in those workout shorts was about to give me a problem in my pants that I don’t have the mental fortitude to will away at the moment.

At least at The Hatch, there was baseball on the TV and rodeo posters on the walls I could stare at. It may not have made my erection completely fade away, but I’m convinced it helped. Right now, I have a one-track mind that’s torn between how Josie’s ass looked sauntering away and the mental images of the videos I’ve seen her make.

I thought that voice was familiar, and now I know why. It wasn’t just Josie taunting me with a sultry voice, it was Black Sheep Bunni’s signature voice that takes her videos to another level.

Just thinking about it makes heat crawl up my spine. Up until now, she’s always been in leggings and a hoodie, or neck deep in the pool. Josie’s outfit today leaves nothing to the imagination. All those tattoos that I’ve seen so many times in her videos were on full display, this time in the light of day. That pinup girl on her ribs, the animal heads tattooed above her knees… yeah, I’m almost ashamed to admit how many times I’ve obsessed over those.

Then there’s her fucking tits. They were always spectacular, but seeing the outline of her piercings through her sports bra just now nearly made me come in my goddamn sweatpants. Thinking about them again is enough to make me consider going up to my apartment and taking a shower. Actually, that’s exactly what I’m going to do as soon as I finish drying my car.

There’s only one fucking problem with that. Looking down at my car, the candy apple red paint reminds me of her hair, and another round of fantasies and memories flash through my mind. It was my decision, albeit a horrible one, to let her go, for her own good. I never truly got over her, whether I wanted to admit it or not, and that’s never been clearer than it is right now.

How is the girl that I never got over, and still think about every day, also the woman that I’ve been obsessed with for the last few years?

That question and its answer is going to haunt me. Even the idea of going up to my apartment and dealing with the situation in my pants suddenly has me conflicted. Is it wrong to think about her that way now that I know who she is? Or somehow does that make it better because we’ve already—no, that was so long ago, and neither of us were the people we are today. But still, what does this mean? I don’t think there’s a social etiquette guide for finding out the love of your life is also the faceless cam girl you’ve gotten off to more times than you can count. Is it bad that I think it’s hot? That level of confidence in a woman is intoxicating. Does it make me more fucked up and depraved than I⁠—

“Okay, Sylvester. Just keep brooding away over there,” my sister says from behind me.

“Fucking hell, Sisi,” I say, stumbling to the side and nearly stepping into the bucket of soapy water. “Do I need to get you a bell to match Dad?”

“What?” Her face scrunches in confusion.

I groan and run my hand through my beard. “Nothing. Never mind. What do you want?” I plead, hoping some merciful power will end my misery soon.

I swear I’m starting to wish I were an only child so I could at least try and deal with my screwed up inner turmoil in peace. It seems like every time I’m trying to deal with my shit, someone in my family is right there to keep me from having one moment where I can figure my life out.

Sisi lets out an amused hum, stepping around me. “I’m not sure yet.” I don’t like the way her eyes run up and down before she finally quirks a brow at me.

“Okay. Seriously, can you not look at me like that? It’s weirding me out,” I say.

“Interesting,” she muses, twirling a strand of her dark hair. “So, you’re worried about people looking at you now?”

I groan again. “Seriously, get to the point. What do you want?”