Page 28 of The Man I Hate

With slight reservation, I gave a few more details regarding the day in question. Elaborating enough to satisfy her wasn’t going to hurt matters. There was nothing I could say to make her any more interested in Braxton than she already was.

“I was backing out of the driveway, and this tattooed guy leaned inside my car window. He was yelling at me to get out of the car,” I explained. “The next thing I knew, someone yanked him away. Then, Braxton came into view and asked me to open my trunk—”

“Open your trunk?” She seemed perplexed. “Why?”

“He wanted to throw the guy in there to contain him.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “That’s got to be the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

I laughed at the thought of it all. “It all happened pretty fast. It didn’t seem odd at the time. Not really. He smacked the guy, choked him until he was passed out, and then zip-tied his hands and feet.” I paused and considered what I’d said. “Now that I’m talking about it? Yeah, it seems kind of weird.”

“He locked the guy in your trunk, and then the police showed up?” she asked.

“Yeah. The cops quickly recognized the guy. He’d just been released from prison. The officer in charge talked like the three-strikes law was going to make sure he was locked up for a long time.”

“Hopefully he’ll make a plea deal and you won’t have to testify in court.”

Testifying hadn’t crossed my mind. I didn’t like the thought of staying in California, going into a courtroom, or seeing the tattooed thug ever again. I swallowed the foul taste that came with the realization that at least two of those three things may happen.

“I hope he makes a plea deal, too,” I admitted.

“So.” Her brows raised. “Where do you and Braxton stand now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you two seeing each other?”

I let out a muted laugh. “No.”

She seemed amused by my response. “Sore subject?”

“He’s not interested in a relationship or anything that resembles a relationship,” I replied. “I’m going to have to be satisfied with ‘one and done’ for once.”

“One and done?” She gave me a side-eyed look. “Is that what you want? One and done?”

It wasn’t at all what I wanted, but I wasn’t the one making the decisions. Braxton was. I knew little about him, but I was sure there was no way on earth I could make him do something he didn’t want to do.

“No, it’s not,” I admitted. “I’m not the one making the decisions, though.”

She arched one of her perfectly plucked brows. “You could be.”

I leaned forward. “How so?”

“Men want everyone to think they’re in charge of things,” she said. “They’re not. We are.”

The one with the pussy has the power. I’d heard the phrase before. The claim was myth, not fact. Although I’d had the pussy in all my relationships, I’d never had the power. The one with the dick was the decision maker. Always.

“I don’t think Braxton will be too receptive to me suggesting we have sex again. I kind of tried that already.” I exhaled until my shoulders slumped in defeat. “It backfired.”

“Giving a man the opportunity to get laid is like offering a dog a steak,” she explained. “No matter how disciplined he is, when no one’s looking he’ll take the offer.”

“You’re suggesting I get Braxton alone and offer him sex?”

“If you want more than a one and done with him, that’s my suggestion.”

It sounded like she knew what she was talking about. I mulled over the idea. In a moment, I quickly came to my senses.

“Two and done doesn’t sound much better than one and done,” I complained.