Possessive Best Friend

Dean groans. “I don’t know if I can handle the wait.”

“He’ll message back. For now, maybe we should kill some time? I mean, this is your first trip outside of Loftville.”

“What were you thinking?”

“Dinner and drinks,” I say. “The usual.”

“Okay then,” he says with a grin. “Take me out and sweep me off my feet.”

I laugh. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“We’re progressive here. Come on, lady.” He gets up and comes over. I stand as he wraps his arms around me and kisses me gently. “Show me a good time.”

“Will do.”“You know, I used to think Loftville was the center of the universe,” Dean says as he finishes his whiskey and leans back in his chair. “But maybe it’s Tampa.”

“Oh, you dear, sweet man,” I say, shaking my head. “The only thing Tampa is the center of is meth.”

He laughs. “There are a surprising amount of missing teeth around here.”

We’re sitting together on the back patio of a nice, upscale restaurant. It’s comfortable and fun in a way I hadn’t expected, and for a while I forget all about what we’re actually doing here.

“You know, what if we just forget about this whole thing?” I ask. “I mean, let’s just have a vacation for a few days. We can come back to the whole thing another time.”

He frowns at me. “Is that what you really want?”

I close my eyes and sigh. “Of course not.”

“But it would be nice, though.”

“Right? We could just… you know. Relax, be normal. Enjoy each other.”

“I like the sound of that.” He arches an eyebrow at me. “I could enjoy a lot of you.”

I laugh a little. “See, you want it too.”

“I do. Is that why you’ve been keeping your phone face down and on silent all night?”

I nod a little. “I’m not backing down. Don’t get me wrong. I just…”

“It feels nice to be normal for a little bit. Even if things aren’t normal at all right now.”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“I hear you.” He smiles a little. “But fuck normal. Fuck being normal. Do you really want that?”

I laugh and sip my wine. “I guess not.”

“No, you don’t. You’d be so bored with normal. That’s not you, Lora.”

“I should check my phone,” I say.

“You really should.”

I sigh and pick it up. I feel like I’m giving something up as I unlock it and stare at my Instagram message.

“Well?” Dean asks.

“He says he’ll meet us tomorrow.” I grin at him. “And he says he has one hell of a story to tell.”

“Perfect.” Dean stretches. “So that gives us… well, tonight. What do you say we go back to the hotel and enjoy each other?”

“I guess we could do that.” I give him a sly little smile. “What did you have in mind?”

“I plan on taking you back to that room, stripping you down, and feasting on you however I want. And when you think I’m done, I promise, I’ll just be starting.”

I smile and feel a little shiver run down my spine. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

I wave down the waitress, ask for the check, and let him drag me out of that restaurant as fast as we can go.The morning comes bright and early but Dean’s already up. He goes for a run before I manage to drag myself out of bed and is showered and dressed by the time I manage to brush my teeth. I have this perfect little ache between my legs from where he took me, again and again, rougher and rougher, all night long.

“Ready?” he asks me.

“I think so. Do you think this guy can really help?”

“I have no clue,” he says. “If he worked with your uncle, he should know something about what’s going on at least.”

“Uncle Ron did say that this guy was his business manager.”

“Whatever that means.”

“But he called him a crook.”

Dean snorts. “Do you take your uncle’s word to mean anything at all?”

“No, that’s a good point.”

“So let’s hear the guy out. He says he has a good story. I don’t doubt it.”

I nod a little and finish getting ready. When I’m done, we head out together, grab a cab, and give it the name of the coffee place Leo wants to meet at.

We’re a little early, so we grab drinks and find a spot in a quiet corner. I shift nervously in my seat, not sure why I’m so worried about this. I mean, nothing can go wrong here, he can either help or he can’t. Either way, we’ll be left back where we started.

But still, I feel strange. Tracking this guy down wasn’t hard, but it’s raising more questions than answers.

About ten minutes after we sit down, a man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, dark tan skin, light blue eyes, frizzy white hair, and a heavy gut comes walking over to our table. He smiles down at me. “Are you Lora Lofthouse?” he asks.