#PartyBoss isn't a term Tulip Carpenter coined herself but she wears it with pride. Her life is a party, she's doing what she loves, creating mindblowing celebrations for the happiest moments in people's lives. But when the baby she put up for adopt...
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Tulip was nervous. Wait. No. She was more than nervous. She was so riddled with anxiety that she flipped and flopped in the extra long twin bed that she got up and reorganized her already organized closet. She couldn't get Jasper Young out of her mind. His soothing melodic voice and southern gentleman charm fueled multiple dreams that freely glided down the spectrum of funny and sweet to erotic and romantic. The man was a drug and she was a fucking addict.
Damn! Tulip cursed her present mental woes as she walked to the student parking lot to meet the very person that captivated her thoughts.
"Tutu, are you hearing me?" Will's parental tone pulled her out of her contemplation.
"Yes." She held out the 's' longer than needed as she stepped over the crack in the sidewalk. "Don't worry about me."
Will huffed like a furious longhorn. "I'm your elder. All I do is worry."
"You're confused. The word you want is 'older'."
"It's the correct word. I'm the elder in this situation." Humor was in his tone but he was serious. "Which is why, you getting in a car with some stranger is not sitting well with me."
She sighed as she waited for a car roll through the intersection before crossing the street, "I've done my due diligence. I'm not a child. Brianna's mom is a detective for HPD. She ran a background check. He's clean. Safe."
"Or—" Will paused and she knew he had a slick comeback. "He could be a smooth criminal."
She shook her head playfully as a giggle slipped past her lips. "Okay, Michael Jackson."
"I"m serious, Tulip. Just because someone doesn't have a record doesn't mean they're harmless. You watch CSI."
"Not anymore."
"When?"
"I don't know? Warrick died and so did my desire to watch." She finally reached the student parking lot and began searching through the sparse area for his car. "Southland's my new obsession."
How difficult could it be to spot a black F-150? It was hard as shit. She had a momentary lapse and forgot Texas was truck country. Silverado's, Sierras, F-Series, and Tacomas surrendered her in reds, blues, and black.
"One character dies and you write off a show." He tsked. "Really?"
"Absolutely." She scanned her eyes over the abundance of trucks from two-doors to four. Some with grill guards and some with fancy rims. She didn't ask if he had any of those things on his truck. She did a turn to see the vehicles she passed upon entering when a honk promptly stopped her. Her revolution halted but her sundress kept moving, giving the world a flash of her upper thigh. He sight moved to the direction the noise traveled and a smile threatened to curve up her glossed lips but she fought the urge. She didn't need him knowing she was eager to see him in the flesh again.
