Perfectly Toxic (The Sterling Shore Series Book 9) Read online

  I barely mutter a bye, because I’m pretty fucking transfixed—and seriously confused. She turned me down, but she’s with a guy wearing a tweed jacket and smoothing down his comb-over?

  His fly is unzipped, for fuck’s sake. I’m fairly sure some Buzz Lightyear underwear is poking through the hole of his unzipped zipper as well.

  And now I’m staring at a guy’s crotch. Fucking great. Just great.

  My eyes dart up to the firm, barely covered female ass. Her little black dress leaves just enough to the imagination. Outside of her scrubs, she’s a solid nine. He’s barely a three. This… This is just pissing me off. No way does that Ice Queen blow me off but go out on a date with a guy who is honestly wearing his shoes on the wrong feet.

  He opens the door for her, and she bends over to adjust the strap on her high heel shoe. I get a better look at her ass, and… I take it back; she’s a solid ten. Not a nine.

  Irritated, I walk in behind them, giving them time to get their seats. Regina smiles when I reach the hostess station.

  “Forget something, Mr. Noles?”

  Yeah, I must have forgotten my pride somewhere along with my rationality.

  “Is my table still open?” I ask.

  She looks confused but nods.

  “I realized I didn’t have dessert.”

  Damn, I sound like an idiot.

  She grins and walks me back toward the table I just abandoned. It’s clean, but she doesn’t act like it’s an inconvenience to reseat me. As soon as she hands me the dessert menu and walks away, my eyes start scouring what I can see of the restaurant. Where the hell did she—There she is. Two tables down and across.

  Her smile is fake as hell. Why is she out with him if she doesn’t want to be? Why am I obsessing over this?

  Doesn’t matter. I’m pissed, and she’s the reason. It’s only fair that I piss her off in return. Pride is a twisted thing, and I’m full of it.

  Once upon a time, the Noles name held mountains of prestige and had as much money behind it as the Sterling name. Then my great grandfather fucked it all up and my grandfather followed the same spiraling route of failure until it was all gone.

  It was up to my father to rebuild the name, and up to me to carry it on. So yeah, I’m a prideful bastard. And Bella stepped all over it by dismissing me immediately.

  I ease over my table, propping up on my elbows while trying to hear their conversation. It’s not easy, but I catch part of it.

  “My mom’s favorite thing to do is buy underwear in bulk,” he’s telling her, which gets an eyebrow raise from me. “It saves so much money. I prefer to spend my money on more important things.”

  Like lotion and porn? Because this guy has no game and can’t possibly be getting laid. This is really who she is dating when she wouldn’t even party with me?

  “My sister buys her underwear in bulk too,” he adds, laughing like a donkey on crystal meth. Holy hell. She’s going to pay for making me endure this.

  Chapter 4

  BELLA

  Did I turn off the TV? I think I did.

  “And my mother’s sister,” Barry laughs, snorting as though he’s telling a hilarious story, “won the apple eating contest because of her double-jointed jaw! She also met my uncle that night, and had several other date offers. Weird huh?”

  Yeah. Yeah. I turned off the TV. Did I record my show? I think it was starting tonight.

  “My brother has four toes on one foot,” he goes on, apparently in the middle of another family history lesson. “But my sister has six! We joke that she stole one from him when in the womb because they’re twins.”

  I definitely recorded the show. Oh, I’d love to be watching it right now. Ah! I forgot to put up my toenail polish. The living room will reek of fumes.

  “And my grandfather is also my uncle because of that.”

  Why did I agree to this date again?

  “That’s… unique,” I tell him with a forced, stilted smile when he stares expectantly.

  No. No. Now I remember putting up the polish. Whew.

  “I have to go to the bathroom. Too much wine makes my bladder shrivel up.”

  Awesome.

  “Good for you,” I mutter when he walks away.

  Just because I want to stop dating bad boys who cheat, lie, and steal, that doesn’t mean I want to date the most boring, possibly disturbed, men on the planet. Why can’t quality men just fall into my lap? Is it this hard for everyone?

  I stare at the butter knife, wondering how long it would take to saw open my wrists with it. A shadow moves, distracting me, and I look up just as someone sits down in Barry’s seat.

  My breath freezes in my lungs when the last person I expected to ever see again is staring right at me with an amused smirk playing on his lips. Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

  Instead of speaking, I get choked on air and hack like a smoker for several embarrassingly long seconds.

  He grins openly while leaning back.

  “Interesting taste you have in men,” he drawls, lifting Barry’s inhaler from the table as a demonstration, then tossing it back down. Barry talks so much that his asthma acts up a lot.

  Sheesh. I’m retaining the information Barry is giving me. Damn it, I was trying not to remember anything he was saying, because that’s valuable storage space in my brain. What if I forget how to do the Macarena because of that asthma factoid?

  “Are you ignoring me? And are you seriously humming the Macarena right now?” Ethan asks me.

  Yes, yes I am ignoring him. Because I’m suddenly five again, and this is Kindergarten. It worked back then, so it will work now. But I do stop humming.

  He studies me as I remain silent, but I don’t like the look that crosses his eyes. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm, I pretend to be bored and stare at my nails. He’ll go away if I don’t bite.

  Great. Now I’m thinking about literally biting him.

  “For the last time, I’m not paying you for sex anymore! Stop stalking me, and stop trying to get my friends on your client list too!”

  My head snaps up as silence fills the restaurant, and my entire body flames with a shade of crimson. Ethan is smirking, while everyone else stares at me wide-eyed.

  “My cock is still sore from the last time I let you talk me into it!” he adds too loudly.

  “Shut up!” I hiss, covering my face with my hand, but it doesn’t shield me nearly enough.

  “Ah, so you can speak. At least I know how to make you stop ignoring me now. So what’s up with the tool?” he asks as though there aren’t still hundreds of eyes burning against us.

  When he opens his mouth like he’s going to speak again, I rush to answer, afraid of what else he might spew.

  “He’s not a tool. He’s a good guy with a solid job. He’s just… new to dating.”

  “Thirty-year-old virgins are surprisingly not that hard to come by. You could do better.”

  The bastard is amused. I want to crawl under the table and hide from the hushed whispers and lingering stares, but he’s relaxed and grinning. Unbelievable.

  “He’s not a virgin,” I whisper defensively, even though I’m fairly positive Barry is definitely a virgin. That doesn’t matter. He’s a safe choice. Safe is much better than my usual choices, and I’m a new Bella.

  This is me reinventing myself. Barry will grow on me. Who the hell am I kidding? I can’t stomach another minute of Barry talking about his slightly incestuous family.

  “So you blew me off, but you’re on a date with him. Why?”

  I look at him incredulously. All this because I wouldn’t go to his college-wanna-be party? Is he that vain?

  “Did you stalk me here?” I ask him instead of answering his question.

  “No,” he states, narrowing his eyes. “I was actually here first and saw you walk in with Tweedle Dee. Now answer my question.”

  Yeah, no. I don’t answer him. We get locked in a staring contest, and I study those dark, intense eyes. It’s like look
ing into pits of dark chocolate. I love chocolate. I hate him.

  “Um… You’re in my seat.”

  The sound of Barry’s voice has me startling in my seat, and I look over to see him confused, raising both eyebrows at Ethan. Ethan, however, doesn’t look up at Barry. He’s too busy smirking at me.

  “Why’d you blow me off?” Ethan asks again, drawing my full attention back to him.

  Why me?

  “Really, you’re in my seat. This is my date. See? That’s my inhaler.” Barry, bless him, actually points to the inhaler as though he thinks Ethan needs proof.

  Ethan picks up the inhaler and carelessly tosses it at Barry without looking. Barry squeals and tries to catch it, juggling it a few times before he finally manages to grasp it. He holds it to his chest, his jaw open as though he can’t believe Ethan’s audacity to throw it.

  He really is a virgin. Damn.

  “You can have my seat until I’m finished,” Ethan tells him, still staring at me as he points, and I turn to see a vacant table with a piece of chocolate cake sitting on it.

  When I turn back around, Barry is frowning at Ethan.

  “But this is my seat. This is my date.”

  “He’s right,” I point out, hoping against hope that he’ll move. “That really is his seat, and I really am his date.”

  Ethan slowly turns his head, cutting his eyes toward Barry. Gone is the amusement, and in place is that arrogant, asshole glare. Shit.

  Barry immediately turns to face me. “I’ll be right over there when you’re finished,” he says quickly, before darting by me on his way to the other table.

  I roll my eyes while muttering, “Coward.”

  He’ll stay a virgin.

  Ethan is smirking again when he looks at me.

  “You’re a bully,” I state matter-of-factly.

  “You’re not answering my question.”

  “You’re not entitled to any answers.”

  “I’ll make another scene. This time I’ll make sure everyone hears me.”

  Glaring at him seems to be pointless. If anything, the jerk gets off on me getting angry. Deciding I’d like to leave with some dignity intact, I finally answer him.

  “You’re a player.”

  He cocks his head, but still looks as though I’m his evening entertainment.

  “How could you possibly know that? Isn’t that a little judgmental? One look at me and you think you have me all figured out?”

  I lean over the table, slowly getting some of my composure back. He’s hot enough to rattle me, but no one is hot enough to keep me rattled.

  “You want to get serious? You want to wine me and dine me? You want to make pretty babies after we get married?”

  His smile slips, and he clears his throat before shifting in his seat a little awkwardly.

  “My point exactly, Ethan. You and I are in two very different places. You’re looking for a good time, and I’m looking for something real. As for judging you, I apologize.”

  His eyes narrow. “You’re a wildcat trying to be a good girl. I can tell by the way you look at me. You’re not timid or blushing or stammering. You’re obviously well versed with this dance. So why are you playing a game you don’t want to be playing?”

  Rolling my eyes, I laugh while sitting back, slowly getting more comfortable. “Who is judging whom now?”

  I cock an eyebrow, amused, and he glares at me. The tables have turned. This is how I should have handled him to begin with. I might have avoided this whole fiasco.

  “Why are you so determined to make me want you?” I muse, poking the bear a little.

  “Just tell me the real reason you blew me off for Inhaler Boy, and I’ll leave.”

  “Because that’s my prerogative. I don’t owe you an explanation. I don’t have to want you. Just like you don’t have to explain anything to me. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go speak to my date now.”

  He looks like he’s on the verge of being pissed, but a slow smile curves his lips again. “Good luck with that. Looks like he didn’t think he was going to be chosen. Can’t blame him really, considering the competition.”

  I turn my head in time to see Barry walking out the door, and I groan inwardly as he hurriedly gets in the car and speeds off. I stare for much longer than necessary because I don’t feel like seeing the triumph in Ethan’s eyes.

  When I finally do turn back around, there’s money lying on the table—more than enough to cover the bill Barry ducked out on—and my phone is curiously setting on the table as well. I could have sworn it was in my purse.

  Ever think of all the things you wish you would have said or done when it was still relevant? Yeah. I’m having one of those moments. I should have gotten loud and told the restaurant he has a tiny dick… or something a little more creative than that.

  Instead, I’m fuming, wishing I had said or done anything other than just take it. I never take shit like that. Ever. Why now? Has he got me that off-kilter?

  Standing up and ignoring all the nosy eyes on me, I grab my phone and call my best friend. I need someone to keep me from doing something stupid.

  Stupid would be going to the hospital, finding Ethan’s full name and address, and strangling him in his sleep.

  I’m sooo close to doing just that…

  Chapter 5

  ETHAN

  She’s nobody. She’s nothing. She’s just some random chick who judged me.

  So what if I felt her damn hand on my cheek? That was probably a fluke. It’s happened before. Okay, so it’s only happened with one other person or when I’ve been surprised, but it was still a fluke. That’s all.

  She probably thinks I’m some loser without a job who sits around all day in his underwear watching porn or something.

  Okay, so I currently don’t have a job, but that’s because I’ve spent a decade killing myself for my father’s company. I even spent my twenty-eighth birthday working for nineteen straight hours, and had a slice of pie in between conference calls.

  I have more than enough money to kick back and live easily for the rest of my life and then some. I also still have stock in the company that will generate a generous income as long as the company thrives.

  Why am I sitting here reassuring myself? I’m not a fucking chick. This doesn’t bother me.

  Damn her for touching me.

  Groaning, I grab my phone and do something stupid. I acknowledge the fact that I broke a few boundary rules by texting her. Yeah, that’s right. I went into her purse yesterday—like an asshole—took out her phone, and called myself so that I’d have her number—like a creeper. To be fair, she should get a security lock if she doesn’t want random people using her phone.

  ME: Are you with the virgin, or do you want to grab some food?

  I’m pretty sure that’s not going to work, but fuck it. Gotta start the conversation somehow.

  It takes about fifteen seconds to get a response.

  BELLA: You have got to be fucking kidding me. Is this Ethan? How the hell did you get my number?

  ME: Food or no?

  BELLA: Hell no. And lose my hummer!

  Hummer?

  I start to question that, when she immediately sends another text.

  BELLA: NUMBER not hummer! Asshole.

  Why am I the asshole? I didn’t make her type the wrong word.

  ME: I’m bored. Send me something dirty if you won’t grab some food with me.

  When all else fails, go with humor. Chicks dig funny guys, right? I’m not really all that funny.

  After a few minutes, I expect her not to respond. But she finally does, and I read with an arched brow.

  BELLA: A pig in mud.

  There’s weirdly a photo under it of a pig in mud. What the—oh. Something dirty. Fucking hilarious, I think dryly.

  ME: Cute. Now send me the real thing.

  BELLA: Go duck yourself.

  That one has me smirking. Girl has some autocorrect issues.

  BELLA: FUCK. Go FUCK yours
elf!

  ME: Tempting… But I’d rather fuck you. What time am I picking you up?

  BELLA: I should have sent you to the psych ward.

  My lips twitch, and I lean back, ready for some more. This is actually pretty fun.

  ME: Chinese? Pizza? Delivery or takeout?

  BELLA: Fine. I’ll grab dinner with you.

  I sit up, a little wary. Hell, that was almost too easy—

  BELLA: We’ll swim by the police station on the way to the restaurant.

  BELLA: SWING by. Not swim. Stupid ducking phone.

  It takes me a second to realize I’m laughing, then I shake my head.

  ME: You’re less intimidating with typos, just so you know.

  BELLA: You’re a total creeper, just so you know.

  My phone rings in my hand, pausing the sparring match when I see Tag’s name flash across the screen. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “Yeah, I’m on my way” I answer, standing up and stretching before grabbing my keys.

  How’d I forget all about him inviting me over? It’s the first time I’ll get to hang with the group as a whole since I’ve been back.

  “You should have been on your way over an hour ago,” he grumbles.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. Just getting used to not having an assistant to remind me what to do for the day.”

  “Not a good excuse,” he points out as I lock my door and head to my car, hurrying my pace.

  “On my way,” I tell him before hanging up and getting in my car.

  Smirking, I rev my new baby and drive like hell. Having a vehicle wasn’t feasible in Chicago, since I never had time to actually drive a vehicle. I lived right beside my company, and I pretty much lived there instead of my actual apartment.

  Here, I had a BMW that I drove when I was visiting. Although I still have that one parked in the garage of the home I bought over two years ago, I also made a new purchase the second I landed back in my hometown.