Abbi: Ha! I was never the one doing the rushing.
Dean: Again, not trying to be dense, just want to make sure I’m following—you’re saying some guy rushed through things if you were naked.
Abbi: The majority did.
I’m still trying to process this when she texts again.
Abbi: Can we stop talking about this now?
I don’t know all the guys Abbi’s dated in the past, and I wouldn’t know where to find the ones I could name. But that’s suddenly a very good thing, because if I had a list, I’d have to hunt down every single one of them and give them a piece of my mind. It wouldn’t end well.
Dean: Never tell me where I can find your exes.
Abbi: Why?
Dean: I don’t want to go to jail.
* * *
Abbi
Our schedules were at odds all week, and Dean and I never ended up getting together. I’m not sure what we would’ve done if we’d managed. Had coffee and discussed why I froze up like a maniac when he tried to take off my bra?
I ended up closing at The Patio every night, and Saturday I’ve worked all day prepping for and pulling off our biggest full-dinner wedding reception yet. It’s exciting to watch the catering side of the business grow like it is, but it’s also reaffirming all my suspicions that this isn’t my dream job. I want to be the woman who came in to set up the elaborately decorated wedding cake, the one creating the cupcake tower centerpieces, not the one instructing the staff how to serve the pre-plated steak dinner.
Despite being completely exhausted after we wrap up the reception, I invite Layla out for a drink. Dean and I have agreed to go to his place tomorrow night, and it doesn’t take a mind reader to know he plans to get me naked. I really, really don’t want to screw it up.
So here I am, sitting at Smithy’s in my work clothes, sipping a lemon drop martini and preparing to pour my heart out to a girl I don’t actually know all that well. Not that Layla seems to mind. She’s one of those people who lights up in social situations, and after midnight at Smithy’s is no different.
“You said you needed some advice,” she says, rubbing her hands together. “Lay it on me.”
I blow out a breath. “I’m a disaster in bed.”
Coughing on the sip of martini she just took, Layla puts her glass down and nudges it away from herself. “You want sex advice?”
I shake my head. “I want confidence advice.” I bite my bottom lip. “Okay, so I’m going to tell you something no one else knows, but you have to promise it stays between you and me.”
Her brow furrows. “Of course. I’m loud, but I know how to keep a secret.”
“My friend Dean—Stella’s brother—he agreed to teach me how to be . . . good in bed.”
She cackles, and the people at the next booth turn and stare. She gives them a pointed look until they turn away again. “How selfless of him.” She chuckles again. “Jesus, I didn’t think that happened in real life.”
I fold my arms. “Don’t mock me.”
She holds up both hands. “I would never. Though, come on, you can’t pretend this is a purely practical endeavor on your part. You’re not blind. Dean’s hot.”
“So hot.” I press my hands to my cheeks. “And not just hot. He’s a freaking awesome guy. He’s been best friends with my brother for years, and I’ve always known he was the real deal, but over the past few weeks, I feel like I’ve really gotten to know him. He’s . . .” I shake my head. “I like him a lot. I think we’re going to have sex soon, and I don’t want to screw it up with my issues.”
“Whew, boy.” She grabs her martini and takes a big gulp. “So Dean’s supposed to be teaching you how to be good in bed, but you’ve caught feelings and are hoping I can tell you how to be good in bed before then so it’s not some traumatic, regrettable experience for both of you?”
I grimace. “I mean . . . pretty much?”
“But you said yourself that your issue is confidence, right?”
I nod. “I’ve had some really bad experiences. Guys who liked my curves, but when they got me naked seemed shocked to find out you don’t get to have a butt and boobs like this and still have a thigh gap.”
She grunts. “Preach.”
“I’ve just never been with someone who’s really into me physically, but I think Dean might be, and I don’t want to ruin it with my epic lack of confidence once I get naked.”
“So, tell me about the exes,” Layla says. “No, tell me about the first guy who ever made you feel self-conscious about your body.”