Double Dog Dare You Read online

  Rigsby: Yep, Shepherd and golden retriever.

  Me: So tell me about it! How did you know to pick Jack?

  Rigsby: Well, Jack picked me. They had about two dozen dogs and each one would have probably worked, honestly. When I got to the end of the row, Jack was coming out of a bath, soaking wet, and jumped at me. He licked me straight across the face. I knew he was my dog.

  Me: That’s seriously the sweetest thing ever.

  Rigsby: He’s two and belonged to a state trooper. She was killed by a drunk driver while helping a disabled car about four months ago. The shelter said the owner’s dad tried to hang on to him, but he lived in a small apartment and it wasn’t a good fit for Jack long term.

  Me: That’s terrible.

  Rigsby: I’ll admit, the story choked me up a little.

  Me: Have you gotten him all settled?

  Rigsby: Yep. We went to the pet store and I bought my next paycheck’s worth of dog stuff. When we got home, he went out and marked his territory for about ten minutes before even coming inside the house. We went for a long run too, which was interesting. I’ve never ran with a leashed dog before, and he was very interested in sniffing everything.

  Rigsby: Plus, there was a squirrel incident, but we’re not getting into that tonight.

  I laugh out loud and scroll back up to see the photo of the dog. He’s sitting on a porch, his tongue dangling from the side of his mouth, with a new red collar on his neck. I scan the background and see a pretty stellar view of the mountainside. I can’t help but wonder if that’s Risgby’s home and where exactly it’s located.

  Rigsby: Anyway, I just wanted you two to meet. When I told him you were my Bestie, he didn’t seem to take too kindly to the insinuation that he’s my number two.

  Warmth spreads through my veins. How can that be? I’ve never even met this man, yet here I am, getting all schoolgirl excited about the prospect of my sudden high ranking, even though I know it’s complete bullshit. A man like this is way too charismatic, too flirty. If I’m at the top of his friends list, I’m probably in the company of about a dozen other women.

  Me: It’s still early in your relationship. I’m sure he’ll shoot past your never-met-before bestie in no time.

  Rigsby: I’m hurt you’d insinuate I’d just replace you the moment I get a dog.

  I can’t help but giggle. It’s a relaxed, light sound, one that always seems to come easily when I’m talking to him.

  Rigsby: You know, we could remedy that. I could send you a pic, one that’s not of my dick. Unless you want me to send one. *insert winky face emoji* *insert eggplant emoji*

  A gasp slips from my throat at the prospect. Do I want to see Rigsby? Well, yes, actually I do, but I’m not sure that’s for the best. And no, I’m not talking about down under. Although, I wouldn’t mind seeing that image either. But there’s something fun about the mystery of talking to him and not really knowing who he is. Is he gorgeous (that’s probably a yes) or have a potbelly and live in his mother’s basement? I’m not leaning that direction, not after the sweatpants photo.

  Rigsby: I can see you’re considering my offer. Just let me know when to send you the pic. Dick or otherwise.

  Me: You’re incorrigible.

  Rigsby: I know. You tell me often.

  Rigsby: Well, time to take Jack out for his nightly bathroom break. TTYL

  Me: Did you really just type TTYL? Are you a thirteen-year-old girl?

  Rigsby: LOL! No, I’m just a lazy guy.

  Me: I’ll let it pass, but be careful so your teenage girl doesn’t show again…

  Rigsby: You sound like my brother.

  Me: He sounds smart.

  Rigsby: He’s not. He’s a terrible nuisance.

  Me: Spoken like a true sibling. Older or younger?

  Rigsby: I’m older by two years.

  Me: I wish I had a sibling.

  Rigsby: None?

  Me: Nope, only child.

  Rigsby: Sometimes, I’d say you were the lucky one, but I admit, I’m glad to have my brother. He’s my best friend.

  I can’t help but smile at the sentiment. That’s exactly how I imagined it would be to have a little brother or sister. Someone who annoyed me to the point I wished I was an only child, but then to have a person who’s like a best friend, who always has your back, who’s a call away when you need to talk or veg out with Chinese food.

  Me: Should I be jealous?

  Rigsby: Naw, he’s not nearly as pretty as you. *insert winky face emoji*

  Me: You’ve never even seen me!

  Rigsby: My imagination has been working ever since you sent me that accidental text Tuesday night, Bestie.

  Why am I smiling so big?

  Rigsby: OK, I really have to go. Jack is standing by the back door glaring at me.

  Me: LOL! Goodbye.

  I set my phone down in the cup holder and turn the ignition. As I head out of the empty parking lot, I’m still grinning like a lunatic, wondering what I’ve really gotten myself into with this man. It should probably bother me more than it does that I’m so friendly with a stranger, but he doesn’t feel like one. Even only a few days into this weird texting exchange, he feels more like a friend I’ve known for years.

  Someone I can banter with.

  Maybe even flirt with a little.

  Harmless.

  I’ve never been one to engage in flirting, my personality a little more reserved. Yet here I am, doing just that so freely. Even though it’s nerve-wracking to step out of my comfort zone with guys, it’s been fun to flirt a little. And not just my mystery texter, but with the runner too. There’s definitely some attraction there, and it appears to not be one-sided. I’ve caught him checking me out.

  My lips turn upward in another grin.

  Look at me.

  Having fun.

  ***

  “I can’t believe it’s a Friday night and you’re shopping,” Sabrina grumbles from behind the counter as I browse a selection of leather handbags.

  Slip Into Style Boutique is empty on this Friday evening, which means my best friend can turn off her filter. “Why not? Is Friday not a good time to buy new clothes?” I ask, finding a gorgeous red leather handbag with black stitching.

  I can feel Sabrina’s eye roll all the way over here. “You’re supposed to be out, having dinner, getting laid.”

  Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Maybe I just wanted to visit with my best friend for a little bit this evening.”

  She steps around the wide counter and approaches, a mischievous grin on her pale face. “I was going to text you later. I have excitement to share.”

  “Do tell,” I reply, checking out the inside of the handbag. It has a soft gold liner with a few pockets, perfect for my phone, ink pens, lip balm.

  “We’re going on a date,” she boasts proudly.

  My wide eyes meet her happy ones. “A what?”

  “Remember earlier in the week, I told you I was going to ask those two guys from the coffee house down the street to join us for dinner?”

  Dread fills my entire body as I gape at my best friend. Wait. Former best friend. “What did you do?” I whisper.

  “I invited them to have burgers and drinks with us tomorrow night, and they accepted.”

  “Sabrina,” I whine, stomping my little black kitten heel on the industrial carpet. “Why?”

  “Because you need to have some fun, let your hair down,” she practically demands as she steps aside to straighten the wallets. “And because they’re totally cute,” she adds with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

  “How old are they, Rina? Seriously? That one with dark hair looks like he just graduated college.”

  My best friend shrugs her shoulders and moves about the display area. “Early thirties?”

  “I’m thirty-eight. Thirty. Eight. I have no business going out with anyone born in the decade after mine,” I reply, trying to wrap my head around the fact she thought this was a good idea.

  “Oh, stop,” s
he says, placing her hands on her hips and giving me a pointed look. “You don’t have to marry him, Q, just screw him. Younger men have fabulous stamina.” She’s really excited about this.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re going and that’s final. I’ll take the younger one, and you can have Lance. He’s the manager and probably a little more your type.”

  I take the handbag and set it on the counter. The sudden stress calls for a new bag. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

  “Oh, I’m makin’,” she says, coming around the counter to ring up my purchase. “This is a great color and very bold for you. I’m proud.”

  “It’s so pretty and soft.”

  “And tomorrow night, you’ll have dinner with pretty Lance and hopefully, he’ll be all sorts of hard.”

  I groan at her dirty pun as I pull my wallet from my purse. “Where are we going?”

  “Pork’s. I’ll pick you up before seven.”

  With my debit card in hand, I reply, “I can meet you there.”

  Sabrina’s already shaking her head. “Heck no. If I pick you up, there’s no way you can weasel out of it.”

  I scoff at her comment, but don’t deny it. There’s no use. I would totally skip the dinner or “accidentally” forget. Exhaling a deep breath, I finally ask, “Is this like a date date?”

  Her eyes soften as she glances up. She knows my track record with dates lately. Most of them don’t make it to a second one, and the ones who do never get to the magical fifth date either. It’s been so long since I’ve had a fifth date, I barely remember what sex feels like. I think my last bedroom encounter was Paul, my boyfriend of two years. We were at the critical impasse—move in or let go. Sadly, it didn’t hurt as bad to let go as I expected it to.

  “No, honey, not a date date. It’s more of friends hanging out. Pork’s has the best food, so we’ll grab some sandwiches and a few drinks. It’s a Saturday night so there might even be a band later. Plus, a seven o’clock meet-up gives us plenty of time to end the evening early, if you don’t feel it’s going well.”

  I give my friend a relieved smile. “Thank you.” I reach for my bag and add, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow before seven.”

  “Sounds good,” she says through a yawn.

  As I head to the door, I stop and turn around. “Oh, I almost forgot, I have that ziplining thing tomorrow afternoon with Logan. He’s so excited for his reward.”

  “Are you going with him?”

  I shake my head. “No way. I’ll be much happier with both feet on the ground at all times.”

  “Have fun, and wear something cute!” she hollers, as I head out the door and toward my vehicle.

  When I slide behind the wheel, I do a quick catalog of my closet’s content. There’s a lot of business professional and business casual attire and not a whole lot of anything else. There’s my lounging around the house outfits of leggings, shorts, and tees, but I would never wear those on a date. I usually wear black slacks and a nice shirt. Simple. Classic.

  But I won’t be able to wear that to Pork’s. That place has more of a blue jeans and boots feel to it. Sighing, I back out of my parking spot and head home. I’m sure there’s something in my closet that won’t make me look like a schoolteacher.

  Right?

  Chapter Seven

  Royce

  I glance at today’s reservation schedule for the thousandth time, wondering who Bestie is. There’s a handful of people planned for the two o’clock session, but these names mean dick to me. The reservation could be under the boy’s dad’s name or even his name. I could drive myself completely fucking insane trying to figure out which of these six names on the schedule could be associated with my mystery texter.

  I made sure to set up the schedule so I was the guide and training the two o’clock group. There’s eight total in this session, six individuals and two couples. They should be arriving anytime to start the paperwork process. They’re instructed to arrive at least fifteen to twenty minutes early, especially during weekends where traffic is heavier and tourism is high.

  As I make my way down to the front office, I pull out my phone.

  Me: Are you excited?

  Bestie Tami with an I: For???

  Me: Ziplining

  Bestie Tami with an I: I’m not ziplining today, just accompanying a student.

  Me: Too bad. It’s a pretty awesome thrill.

  Bestie Tami with an I: I’ll take your word for it.

  Bestie Tami with an I: I should probably go. I just got here and see my student.

  I can’t help but glance ahead to the office, where a handful of people stand or sit at one of the picnic tables.

  Me: Enjoy

  Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I don’t even fight the grin on my face as I make my way around to the side of the office. I step inside and head to Jill, the employee taking care of the front end of things today.

  “Hey,” I say, as I take the clipboard she’s already handing to me.

  “Hi, Royce. We have seven already signed in. The last two are filling out the paperwork now. Should be another minute or two and you can head up.”

  “Why seven? I thought the schedule had eight?”

  Jill shrugs. “One of the two-for-one coupons only had one check in.”

  I glance out at the group, my eyes drawn instantly to a blonde. Even from behind, I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s wearing khaki shorts and a polo shirt in a Kelly green color and her hair is pulled up high on the top of her head in a ponytail. There’s a professional air to her, even as she visits with a high school aged boy and who are probably his parents. The sound of her laugh floats with the breeze and through the open windows, desire rushing through my blood like a tidal wave.

  I’m completely enthralled.

  “Which group only had the one check in?” I ask, my eyes still stuck on the blonde beauty.

  Jill steps up beside me and scans the crowd. “That boy and his parents checked in,” she says, pointing to where my eyes are locked. “By that woman with the green shirt.”

  A slow smile spreads across my lips at the prospect of going to speak to her. I grab the clipboard, which contains their coupon for two, and give it a quick scan before heading out into the sunlight. As I approach, I slip my sunglasses into place, but hide my eyes enough that everyone around me can’t tell I’m checking her out.

  “Logan Hendershot?” I ask as I step up behind her.

  “That’s me!” the tall, lanky boy says, raising his hand in the air like he’s asking a question in class.

  The blonde turns around with a smile on her face and completely steals my breath. “It’s you,” she whispers, her eyes wide beneath aviator shades.

  I can’t help but laugh. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” I say to the woman I met earlier in the week. The woman from the little white house. The one who dropped her glass of tequila and prompted me to go out and purchase her a new bottle. She’s here.

  What are the odds?

  “What are you doing here?” she asks, glancing around before her eyes land on my Elevate embroidered polo shirt.

  “I work here,” I answer, lifting my name badge lanyard up so she can see the photo and name.

  “Royce,” she whispers and a shot of lust bolts through my blood, landing square in my groin.

  Our eyes meet again, smiles spreading across our lips. “You’re taking a trip today?” I ask, stepping forward a little. Not too close to where I’m invading her personal space, but close enough to smell the vanilla and jasmine on her skin. It’s intoxicating.

  “Oh, no, not me,” she says, shaking her head as if to reiterate her emphatic words. She steps to the side and places a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This is Logan Hendershot, and he is my Student Inspiration Award winner for the month. The reward he chose was to go ziplining,” she says, smiling up at the student beside her.

  Something prickles in the back of my mind as I consider her wor
ds. It’s weird. When we were chatting in front of her house, we never discussed ziplining or her job. Yet, this conversation sounds oddly…familiar.

  “Well, Logan, you’re going to have a great time,” I tell the boy as I shake his hand. Turning to his parents, I add, “We’ll take good care of him.” Both mom and dad seem nervous, but eager for their son’s experience. Turning back to the blonde beauty, I ask, “Are you going on the second pass?”

  She glances up at me with ice-blue questioning eyes. “Excuse me?”

  “The second pass. The deal you purchased online was for a double experience,” I tell her, trying not to stare, but failing miserably.

  The look on her face is almost comical. “Oh, uh…”

  “Yes! You can come with me, Miss Michaels. Please?” Logan pleads with the woman before me.

  “Logan, I don’t know,” she replies, wringing her hands together nervously in front of her.

  I step forward and reach out, unable to stop myself from touching her arm. Her skin is warm and soft and does bad things to my cock in front of present company. Yet, I’m unable to actually drop my hand. Just that slightest touch makes me feel grounded and calm. “You’ll be safe the entire time, I promise. It’s an experience like no other.”

  She’s wavering, clearly at battle with herself here. On one side, it’s not her thing. Even with every safety measure in place, this woman likes control. But I also can see her desire to do something…fun. Something unsafe. Something that makes her feel alive and free. That’s why I go for the kill. “Double dog dare you.”

  Her eyes go wide as I lay down the gauntlet and issue her the challenge. A moment ago, I sensed she was about to decline, but now, I see the fire. The excitement. She opens her mouth and our eyes lock once more, she whispers, “Okay.” Her smile mirrors my own and I feel it strike my chest with the force of a thousand arrows. It pierces my soul, cracking the tough exterior, and sending sunlight filtering through those crevasses for the first time in…well, ever.

  “Let’s get you signed in,” I state, handing her the clipboard. There’s a slight tremble in her hand as she takes the board. When she reaches for the pen, our fingers touch, a gentle graze that sparks electricity through my limbs.