I hold up a finger. “Stop making assumptions. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I was there on her twenty-first. Do you forget? Everyone else might be blind to it, but I’ve known how you felt about her all this time.” He grins. “And you finally made it happen. Good for you.”
“It’s not like that, Smith.”
“Then what’s it like?” He’s still smiling, though I’m feeling a little ill with the mention of Abbi’s twenty-first.
I shrug. “She just needs a little confidence, so I’m helping her with that.”
Smithy fists his hands at his sides and thrusts his hips forward. “I bet you are.”
I stamp down my irritation. He doesn’t mean to be crude. He just . . . is. “Don’t ever thrust your hips in the context of Abbi again. She’d knock you out.”
Smithy holds up both hands, face going solemn. “Got it. But for real . . .” He glances around as if he’s afraid someone might be listening. “I always thought it was just the booze talking that night. She didn’t mean the shit she was spouting off about. It was like a defense machination or whatever.”
“You mean a defense mechanism?”
“If you say so. Are you two serious?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Everything she said that night made perfect sense to me. Everything she wanted in a guy. All the things that mattered most to her. All the ways I could never fit the bill. “No. It’s not like that. She just wanted . . .” Seduction lessons? No. I can’t say those words to Smithy. No way. “It’s temporary, and she doesn’t want anyone knowing about it.”
His lips press into a thin line. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
Me neither, but the whole damn thing was my idea, so I don’t exactly feel like I’m in a position to complain. And honestly? At least this time I know where I stand with Abbi. “It’ll be fine.”
“Be careful. Your heart’s still a mess from Amy.”
I shrug. “I know what I’m doing.”
He smacks me on the shoulder and gives me an awkward little salute, and I walk to my car, trying to shove thoughts of Abbi’s twenty-first birthday from my mind.
* * *
Abbi
Dean is on his way over and I’m feeling uncharacteristically confident, so naturally my uterus decided this was the perfect time to do its monthly thing.
Maybe I wouldn’t care—would’ve been relieved, even—if I hadn’t been picturing the scene Dean painted for me. It’s not so much that I’m dying to be in bed in nothing but heels and a pair of lacy panties, but the idea of him imagining it is a serious turn-on, and I might’ve bought the perfect panties to finish the scene. Panties that are definitely not period friendly.
When the doorbell rings, I’m anything but the seductress he described. I’m barefoot in the jeans and T-shirt I wore shopping, my hair tied up in a sloppy bun on top of my head because I just made biscuits, and cooking with your hair down is gross.
I swing open the door, and his gaze rakes over me like a hungry caress. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
He pushes into my foyer, kicks the door shut behind him, and grabs my hips as his mouth finds mine. It blows my mind that it feels so natural to slide my hands into his hair and kiss him back. He tastes faintly of beer, and his mouth is warm and hungry over mine.
He breaks the kiss and grins down at me. “I’ve been thinking about that all day.”
“Yeah?” I ask, my voice shaking a little.
“Oh, yeah. Haven’t you?”
I nod. “But I have bad news. I just started my period—like, minutes ago. My body hates me.”
He chuckles. “So the pants stay on tonight. I can handle that.” He slides one hand behind my head, lacing his fingers into my hair and making several strands fall. “You look beautiful.”
I laugh. “I’m wearing jeans and a T-shirt.”
He shrugs. “Looks good on you. I’ve never been the kind of guy who gets off on seeing a woman dressed in something that’s supposed to be sexy.”
“Liar.” I shake my head, but just having him this close makes me smile.
“Don’t get me wrong—a woman in lacy lingerie is hot as fuck, but only if she wore it for me. Seeing a girl wandering around my house barefoot and in one of my old T-shirts is more my style.” His eyes sweep over me, as if he’s imagining it. “You’d look hot in anything. And if you wore it just for me, that’d be an even bigger turn-on.”
“You don’t actually have to pretend I’m something I’m not.”
He cocks his head to the side. “I don’t follow.”
My smile falls away. This is where things get awkward, but I don’t want pretty lies. Not from Dean. “I know we’re on a mission here, and that you want to build my confidence, but you don’t have to say things that aren’t true. That’ll just come back to bite me later.”