Ride Me Dirty (Bridgewater County 1)
Mortified I was ogling his very large package, I looked away, not before he winked and grinned.
Trying to keep on my side of the arm rest, I used my foot to hook my bag and pull it forward—bending in ways that I was thankful for hours of yoga to achieve—to finally get my hand on my laptop and cell phone and setting them on the tray table. Taking my phone off airplane mode, it rang right away.
Wanting to silence the ring, I answered it.
“Don't think you can sneak off and sell your uncle's property without me knowing.”
Just hearing Chad's voice grated on my already frazzled nerves. Since I'd blocked his cell number, he was probably calling from his office. Why couldn't he leave me alone?
“I don’t need to sneak. I’m selling my uncle’s house. Now you know.” I kept my voice low so I didn't bother anyone else.
“And keeping the profits for yourself? Not going to happen, sweetheart.”
“I'm not your sweetheart, Chad. I doubt I ever was,” I grumbled. When I'd discovered him in bed with his paralegal, I had to assume she was his sweetheart instead.
“You are my wife and that entitles me to half of that inheritance.”
I glanced out the window at the rain dripping down the window. My emotions were the same as the sky, dark and threatening to unleash. “You've been in bankruptcy law too long. We're not married anymore. Which means you’re not entitled to anything.”
“Says the woman who, four years in, still hasn’t made partner.”
Wow, that was a low blow. Chad had been made a junior partner in his firm after eighteen months, and never let me forget it. I glanced at Mr. Hottie and discovered he was looking at me, watching me with an intensity that made me squirm in my seat. Was that concern on his face? God, I didn't need him to hear me fighting with my asshole ex-husband.
“Chad, I'm sitting on a plane and can’t talk. We have nothing else to say to each other. Stop calling me.”
I hung up and just stared at my cell. We'd been divorced for almost two years and he was still trying to fuck with me. It had been a stupid marriage and the fallout from that hasty mistake still lingered.
Yoga breathing wasn't going to calm me down from this one so I had to shift my thoughts. Work. Work would make me focus on something besides my lying, cheating, backstabbing asshole of an ex.
I pulled up the brief I was writing and got to work while Mr. Hottie read his book. After a few minutes, an instant messaging box appeared in the lower corner of the screen.
Elaine: Saw your name pop up. You're there already?
Me: Stuck on grounded connecting flight in Denver. Thunderstorm.
Elaine: That sucks.
There was a minute delay, then she wrote again.
Elaine: Remember your primary mission! Find a hot cowboy and engage in monkey sex!
My eyes widened at the message in the corner of my laptop's screen.
Flicking my gaze toward Mr. Hottie, it didn’t appear that he had noticed my friend's racy note. The type was small and while the seats were close together, I had to hope he was extremely nearsighted. And focused on his book.
Me: Waste of time. I have too much work to do.
Elaine: Famous last words of a woman who desperately needs an orgasm. Chad was an asshole with a pencil dick. You need to find a man to rock your world.
Elaine had no filter and that's what I loved about her. She didn't mince words. What she said about my ex's dick was probably true. Sadly, I'd only been with him so I didn't have tons of dicks for comparison but he certainly didn't know how to use it. As for having my world rocked, well, I doubted that was going to happen anytime soon. I was too busy. Work, work out, more work. Occasionally, I slept. As Chad so kindly pointed out, I hadn’t made partner. Yet. If I wanted to be one, I had to clock the hours.
Me: Sex won't get me that partnership.
Elaine: You've got warped priorities, woman, if you think you can't have both. You think Mr. Farber doesn't get laid?
I wasn't sure if I should laugh or throw up in my mouth. My boss was in his sixties and far from attractive. And a misogynistic hard ass.
Me: Funny.