I shake my head. “I’m not a tattoo girl.”
“That’s what I thought,” Layla says.
“A makeover?” Stella’s gaping at me again, and I feel like I’m seconds away from blurting out everything.
Yes, I wanted a makeover so I could be more confident when Frankie moved to town, but now your brother’s working on the root of my insecurities and I hope Frankie never gets here because I don’t want my time with Dean to end.
Gah. I’m a mess.
“Spill,” Stella says. “Is this all about you dating again?”
I look to Layla, desperate for help.
Layla shakes her head. “Hey, I’m not going to spill your secrets. That’s on you.”
“You remember Frankie Perez?”
Stella’s eyes go round as saucers. “The wine guy? Are you finally going out with him?”
“Yes— No . . . I don’t know.” I’m kind of too busy lusting after your brother to give another guy much thought. “He’s moving to the OV, and I wanted to be prepared. In case something happens.”
“He totally gave her his number and said he wants to get together when he moves to town,” Layla says. “The boy has it bad.”
I shoot her a look. “What happened to not telling my secrets?”
“Sorry, I thought we were sharing.” Layla shrugs.
Stella claps her hands. “I’m so excited. And a little shocked.”
I huff. “Thanks a lot.”
She swats my arm. “Not that he wants to go out with you, goober.” She wrinkles her nose. “I think I guessed all wrong about what you meant when you said you were dating again, but I’m proud of you.”
“We’ve officially spent way more time talking about this than I wanted to. Please change the subject.”
“Okay, okay,” she says, bouncing on her heels. “I’m just so excited.”
Layla returns to her inspection of the red heels, and Stella joins her. I slide my phone from my purse to see another text.
Dean: Scratch that. On you, I want those shoes, black lace panties, and no bra. On my bed. Nothing else . . . except maybe a glass of wine in your hand.
My stomach flip-flops. I glance at the girls to confirm they’re still distracted before typing out a reply.
Abbi: If you can get me comfortable with being like that in your bed, then your work will be done.
Dean: Oh, hell no. If you’re like that in my bed, my work has only just begun.
“So, a navel piercing?” Layla says, pulling my attention away from my phone.
I shake my head. “I already have one, but I’d be up for buying a new piece of jewelry for it.”
“Deal,” Layla says.
Stella gapes. “What else don’t I know about you?”
I cough and force a smile. “Hard to say.”
Chapter Fourteen
Dean
It’s good to have a drink with my buddies, but I can’t deny I’m distracted. Distracted by Abbi and our plans for later. Distracted by memories of the sounds she made while I touched her, the perfect way her lips parted when she came. Distracted by everything we didn’t get to do on Thursday. If I worried one afternoon playing nursemaid to Amy was going to send me spiraling into my unrequited feelings again, I needn’t have. My brain and libido only care about Abbi.
Smithy, Kace, and Marston are all sipping beers, their attention on the football game on one of Smithy’s big-screen TVs, and I keep looking at my phone. I’m not even a third of the way through my beer when I cave and text her again.
Dean: Can’t. Stop. Thinking. About. You.
Abbi: The feeling is mutual. Out of curiosity . . . what are your thoughts on navel piercings?
Dean: On you? HOT.
Abbi: You don’t think it’s weird for a girl who will never—never, ever, ever—wear a bikini to get her belly button pierced?
Dean: But you know it’s there, right? I think it’d be cute.
The TV cuts to a commercial break and the guys turn back to the table, so I flip my phone over, images of a glittering navel ring dancing in my head.
“Where are your ladies this afternoon?” Smithy asks.
Because I’m a fucking idiot, I actually open my mouth to answer.
Thankfully, Kace beats me to it before I realize my mistake. “Stella was working this morning, and then she needed to run to the mall before we head to Mom and Dad’s for dinner.”
Marston nods. “Brinley had to work today too. I think she and Stella were planning a staff retreat or something.”
Smithy grins. “Think they’ll do each other’s hair? Model lingerie?”
Kace cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes at our goofball friend. “Did your mom drop you on your head when you were a baby? What do you do at staff meetings?”
“My staff isn’t as hot as Brinley’s,” Smithy says.
“I heard that!” Nathan the bartender calls from behind the bar.
“Except for you!” Smithy calls back to the burly middle-aged biker.
“Hey, speaking of the girls,” Marston says, “Brinley and I are inviting everyone over for dinner at the house next Sunday. The last of the renovations are done thanks to you guys”—he nods toward me, then Kace—“and we’re ready to enjoy it with our friends.”