Dirty Love & Filthy Lies by Shell C

Author:Shell, C. [Shell, C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B085J1LV3X
Goodreads: 53540377
Publisher: C. Shell
Published: 2020-03-13T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

“How’s the tattoo feeling?”

I glance up from my dresser to see Becca walking through the door carrying an armful of groceries. I reach out to help, but she waves me off, plopping the heaviest of the bags on her bedside table.

“It’s itchy as hell, but the redness is almost gone.”

Reaching over, I pick through a few of the bags and frown when I find nothing to cure my sweet tooth. Everything Becca bought is either a vegetable, fruit, or a type of pasta. There’s even a package of tofu in there. I eye her skeptically. “What is all this for?”

Becca sags down into her chair with a shrug. “Patrick has decided to become a vegetarian after reading an article about them living longer. We had nothing remotely healthy here so I thought I would be a nice girlfriend and pick up a few things he might like.”

“Is this like the time that he swore off all foods that began with the letter B because he was convinced, they caused extreme gas?”

Becca belts out a laugh. Kicking up her legs, she slouches further in her chair as she attempts to get comfortable. “That man better appreciate how much I love him. He comes up with some of the craziest shit, and that’s saying a lot coming from me.” When her amusement dies down, she arches an unimpressed brow at me. “Is that what you’re wearing on your date?”

My smile slips. I glance down at my attire and shrug, not seeing anything wrong with what I’m wearing. Skinny jeans and crop tops are in style. Besides, it’s not as if we’re going anywhere fancy.

“Don’t start with me woman,” I warn, tension ratcheting up my spine. Becca has an uncanny way of making me second guess myself, and I hate it. She doesn’t do it on purpose, but the result is still the same. “A game of miniature golf and dinner doesn’t exactly call for heels and stockings.”

“You should always dress to impress when playing with a man’s balls,” she states with the utmost seriousness.

My lips tilt in a smile despite my trying not to. “Thanks for the advice,” I say, sparing her a side glance. “In the future, try to not talk about my date’s balls. Or anyone’s balls, for that matter.” I finally locate the socks I’ve been searching for and take them over to the bed so I can finish getting ready.

When I’m finished slipping on my socks and shoes, I stand and absently adjust my jeans, making sure they don’t ride up too high on my ankles. High waters aren’t a good look. Once happy with my appearance, I slide my money, keys, and identification in my back pocket before turning to tell Becca goodbye.

“Ashton should be here soon,” I say, giving the room one last critical look to make sure that I’m not forgetting anything. “I’m going to meet him downstairs, so he doesn’t have to go through the trouble of being buzzed in.”

“You’re no fun,” she groans.

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