Dirty Dix (Hard Love Romance #1)(7)

By: Monica James


“Well, regardless, thanks for looking out for my friend.”

I give her a small, polite nod, as her protectiveness over Madison reminds me of my friendship with Hunter and Finch. Madison is, without a doubt, someone worth protecting. I mean, look at her.

I can’t stop my eyes from darting over to her, and I’m surprised to see her returning my gaze. Her friend must also sense some weird stare-off going on between us, because she clears her throat, an octave higher than needed.

“Well, we better go back inside. Our friends are probably waiting for us,” she explains, breaking my trance-like stupor.

Dixon, don’t be a chump, talk to her. But what do I say? I haven’t properly spoken to a girl in so long; especially not to a girl I actually wanted to talk to. I’ve forgotten how to communicate with the opposite sex—and “faster” or “fuck me harder” doesn’t count. So like a wimp, I stand mute and smile.

“Okay, well, it was nice meeting you,” Madison says, biting her lip, lingering.

“You too. Stay safe.”

I restrain from groaning, as who the hell says “stay safe” other than your parents? I open my mouth, ready to add in a quirky response, but Madison is being dragged toward the entrance by her friend.

She suddenly turns over her shoulder and yells, “I work at The Pony Bar. If you’re ever in the neighborhood, come visit.”

Before I have time to reply, she’s gone.

What the hell was that? Madison has left me standing on the pavement, now questioning my manhood.

Like a chicken shit, I let the first girl in forever who I actually liked, leave. I need to go back in there and talk to her. I need her to see what a great guy I can be. But that’s the problem; I’m not a great guy. This week, I’ve fucked four different women, and I can’t even remember most of their names. Or faces. They all blur into one disgusting regret, one I wish I could erase but can’t.

Girls like Madison are too good for the likes of me, and I’m doing her a favor by keeping away. However, tell that to my attentive dick, who became interested in Madison the moment she opened her mouth. Yes, she’s fucking gorgeous, but the fact I didn’t see her as a conquest is what I find myself most attracted to. I haven’t felt that way since…Lily.

All thoughts of Lily come flooding back, and I suddenly remember why I was out here in the first place.

“Hey, handsome,” purrs a voice, snapping me back into the here and now.

Raising my eyes, I see the blonde bartender from earlier addressing me, inches from where I stand.

“Hey.” I quickly recover when I see her waiting for me to respond.

“I saw you inside.” She motions with her head toward the bar while checking me out.

I know I’m not ugly, and if I were a chick, I’d probably want to fuck me, too. I’ve always been tall, but I stopped growing when I shot up to 6’3”. My dark brown hair is naturally messy, always styled into a “fohawk” as one girl I was screwing called it, and my blue eyes complement my trademark dark stubble; most days, I’m just too lazy to shave.

“Oh, yeah?”I ask, unbelieving at how easy this is.

“Yeah,” she confirms with a slow nod, biting her glossy bottom lip. “Can I bum a smoke?”

“Sure.” I search through my pockets and offer her one.

As she places the Marlboro between her lips, she waits for me to offer her a light. I try not to recoil when she leers forward, pursing her lips like a fish while I light it. My horny libido tells my stupid brain that this blonde bimbo is exactly what I need to forget all about my encounter with the brown-haired beauty. They are exact opposites, and that’s what I need. This is what I do best.

“So, sweetheart. How long a break you got?”

She bats her fake eyelashes and smirks. “Fifteen minutes.”

Bending down to meet her short frame, I whisper, “I’ll make it the best fifteen minutes of your life.”

And that’s all the miles I have to put in as she flicks her cigarette to the ground with a sly grin. Reaching for the scruff of my shirt collar, she leads me around the corner and I make good on my promise.

It may be the best fifteen minutes of her life, but it’s the worst fifteen minutes of mine.