Dirty Dix (Hard Love Romance #1) Read Online Free PDF

at the moment, two women are more than I can handle. I shouldn’t even be thinking about Juliet Harte because it’s wrong on all counts, the kind of wrong that would send me straight to hell. Yes, I’ve bagged a few of my clients, which I know is ethically and morally and professionally wrong. But they weren’t genuine clients; they never really needed my help.
    But Juliet, she is someone with genuine issues, and the doctor in me wants to help her. However, the horny male in me wants to help her by screwing her six ways to Sunday.
    Pushing these inappropriate thoughts from my mind, I give Marie a double cheek kiss and a warm hug as I approach their booth.
    “Hello, Dixon. Oh my, I love your hair,” she says, playfully running a hand through my messy locks.
    My hair at the moment most likely resembles a bird’s nest, as I’ve been yanking at it in frustration all week.
    “Nice to see you, Ralph.” I extend my hand.
    “You too, son,” he replies, shaking it.
    We all take our seats and I snatch the menu from Hunter, who bumps me playfully with his shoulder.
    “So how was traffic?” I ask, my eyes perusing the menu uselessly, as food will not satisfy my current hunger.
    “Ah, it was awful, as usual. It’s so much better on our side of the river.”
    I give Marie a small smile, as I know she’ll be forever loyal to New Jersey.
    “You look tired, Dixon. Are you unwell?” She reaches across the table and feels my forehead.
    Usually, I would shy away from such motherly tendencies, but it’s Marie, and I’m used to her babying me.
    “Yeah, Dix, you do look a bit off-color. Everything okay?” Hunter teases, looking at my lap. “Is everything where it should be?”
    I roll my eyes at his idiocy and ignore him.
    “I’m fine, Marie. Work is just crazy at the moment.”
    “Yeah, lots of loons out there, that’s why,” Ralph innocently says, taking a sip of his ice tea.
    “Ralph!” Marie scolds, throwing a reprimanding look his way.
    “What?” he asks with a shrug.
    Her eyes dart my way discreetly, and I know she’s subtly attempting to play facial charades, drawing attention to the fact that one of those loons is my father.
    “It’s fine, Marie,” I insist with a wave of my hand.
    I haven’t seen my father since the day I admitted him, which was close to four months ago. Seeing my once healthy, vibrant father wither away into a shell of his former self is a sight I can’t stand. Call me a bastard, but I would rather remember my dad being happy and well, as opposed to the medicated zombie he most likely resembles nowadays.
    Marie must read my expression as she softly says, “I saw your father the other week. He’s looking better.”
    Better? Better than what? Better than the drooling basket case he was when I admitted him? I hate to break it to Marie, but being dead is the only “better” in this scenario.
    But I give her a small nod, and try to appear unmoved, as I don’t want to hurt her feelings. “That’s great. I’ve been meaning to go see him, but I’ve just…work has been busy,” I conclude unconvincingly.
    She smiles. “I understand.”
    Clearing my throat, I propose, “Maybe you could tell him I said hi? Next time you see him?”
    “Of course. I can do that. You know, maybe you could call? I think he’d like that,” she softly suggests.
    “Yeah, maybe,” I reply, not meaning a word.
    Thankfully, the waitress interrupts our awkward conversation and puts an end to me justifying why I’m not a terrible son.
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    T he evening is still young , so we decide to walk down to Central Park.
    Ralph and Marie are at a vendor’s cart buying pretzels when Hunter pulls me aside and asks, “What’s up with you?”
    “Care to be a little more specific?” I say, while reading through the emails on my phone.
    “You haven’t checked out one single girl all night. That pixie waitress was basically offering her tits as a plate for your steak, and you hardly noticed. What’s up, dude?