Page 12 of Don't Fall For Your Best Friend
“Well, he better not look at you again.”
A warm and fuzzy feeling spreads throughout me from Paxton’s possessiveness. I’m sure I wouldn’t be feeling this way if he got up and punched the man in his face, but I know Paxton and I know he wouldn’t do that. At least, I hope he won't.
“Hi,” an older man with blond hair says. “I’m Woody Davies, one of the organizers here today. Are you Hartford?”
“Yes, I am,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief. “I called the organizer before coming,” I say to Paxton. I shake Woody’s hand and feel instantly better about being here. You know how you can just tell somebody’s a good person when you meet them? I instantly get a good feeling about this man.
“I’m happy you two could join us today. We’re a very informal bunch, and we love meeting new people. We’ve got food coming, and you can just hang around, talk to anyone. If you need anything, just let me know.”
Paxton nods. “We appreciate that.”
“Can I ask what kinks you’re both into and I can point you in that direction?”
I blink. “Kinks?”
“Usually how these things go is that niches within the community sit at the same table so they can meet people who are into the same things.”
“Oh, right.” I nod like I know what’s going on.
“We’re pretty open to whatever the lifestyle offers,” Paxton says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
“No pain though,” I add on.
Woody nods. “I get it. Let me introduce you to Natalie. She’s into a lot of different things, and I’m sure she can be a big help to the both of you.”
“Okay, thanks. I met her earlier.”
Paxton raises a brow at me. “Lead the way,” he says, returning his attention back to Woody.
I hesitate for a moment because I’m slightly jealous of having Paxton anywhere near Natalie. But then I remember he’s just my friend, nothing more.
This is all so new to me, and I can’t believe I’m here. I hug my notebook closer to my chest as Woody drags us over to a table with Natalie and a few other people.
Time to pretend I know what I’m doing.
Good luck with that.
Chapter Six
Paxton
If this motherfucker stares at Hartford one more time, I might have to deck him right here and now. I haven’t punched anyone that wasn’t one of my brothers since high school, but I can’t handle the way this man’s eyes linger on Hartford’s legs.
It’s the fishnet stockings.
I have to admit when I arrived to pick up Hartford today, and she opened her front door, I had to pick my jaw off the floor.
I’ve never seen her in fishnets and a short plaid skirt that makes her look like a naughty version of a schoolgirl.
Almost gave me a woody. Ha. I would never have told this joke if not for a man named Woody leading me to a group of people at a picnic table right this very moment.
He introduces us, and we smile and say our hellos. Before he can introduce us to the last man at the table, I smile and say, “Rigsby Collins?”
“Oh, you two know each other?” Woody asks me.
“I’ve seen him play a few times at a coffee shop a friend of mine owns. Haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet.” I hold out my hand, and Rigsby stands and gives it a firm shake.
“A true fan,” he says with an amused smile. “Not too many of you around.”