he laughs. “Look, Bambi and I go way back, but it isn’t what you’re thinking.” What should I be thinking? How did we go from being Cali and Tango’s closest friends to drilling each other as if we’re planning some sort of awkward future date in his bed?
“So, if I agreed to this whole roommate/bodyguard funny business, would you be bringing Bambi into my house for sleepovers?” I do have a right to know that, but I’m not sure when I made the conscious decision to approach this whole Jags sleeping on my couch thing. That is so not something I would normally agree to. But now, with Tango being in the situation he’s in, I don’t think they need a house guest in their way at home. Things are going to be hard enough as is for a while. After finding that my locks were tampered with, there’s no way I can stay in that house alone.
“I doubt it,” he says. This man really enjoys toying with me and getting under my skin. “But if it does, I won’t leave you out or anything. Is that fair?”
Is he for real? “Mr. Jags, you mustn’t be serious if you’re insinuating that I might engage in an activity that involves more than two people.”
“Girl, you never know if you might like it until you try it. I’ll bet you haven’t seen a dick-pic before, either. Do we need to resolve that issue too?” Again, with the heat rushing through my cheeks. The thought of receiving a text message like that makes everything in the lower part of my body tense up.
“No one has ever sent me a picture of their privates if that’s what you’re asking me.”
“That’s exactly what I was asking you,” he says with a cocky grin. “Here let me see your phone.”
“Absolutely not, you pig!”
“I was going to put a spam block on your texts in case you ever receive a dick-pic. I wouldn’t want to scar you with something like that.”
These games are becoming a little too much for me. “Mr. Jags, if I haven’t received one before, I’m guessing I might have chosen the right people to surround myself with—people who don’t shove phones in front of their man-parts and take self-absorbed pictures of their miniature hot dogs.”
“Well you’ve now surrounded yourself with me, and I’d only take a picture of mine because we’re not talking about some wiener dog, we’re talking about a Boston sausage thing going on down here,” he says, pointing to his man-part.
I hate that he keeps directing my attention to parts of his body I’ve been strongly trying to avoid thoughts about. I hate that he knows this somehow too. “Clearly, I need to change my phone number.”
“Oh, I get it,” he says. “You just want to see it in person first. It is pretty impressive. I mean, my mom spent years telling me I was going to make some girl very lucky someday, and now I know why.” He jiggles his eyebrows at me before a rumble of laughter consumes the waiting area.
“You are so darn cocky,” I tell him.
“I’m all cock, what can I say? And I’m pretty impressed that you said cock. Just putting that out there.”
I place my hand over my face, needing to just stop looking at Jags for a few minutes. How did I end up in this conversation? I can’t believe I’m truly sitting here in a hospital waiting room discussing the girth of his…his…cock. There, I’ve said it, to myself. Cock. It’s not that horrible of a word, I suppose. It’s easier than spewing out manhood. Oh my gosh, did I just think that through? Spewing manhood? I laugh a little to myself. This guy is already rubbing off on me. Rubbing off…Rubbing it off. Okay, this needs to stop. Can he hear what I’m thinking? Why is he laughing so hard at me? I finally stand up and ask, “Could you please watch Tyler while I use the ladies room?”
“Of course,” he says proudly. “Text me if you need help with anything.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
JAGS
IF THAT CHICK actually comes back to this waiting area after the restroom, I might be surprised. There’s a slight chance I came off too strong, but what can I say? That’s how I roll.
“Mr. Jags!” Tyler addresses me. “Come have a tea party!”
I chuckle once, wondering if this kid is serious but the longer I look at her, the more serious the expression on her face becomes. I haven’t