He found this hilarious and laughed until I was sure he was going to choke on his tongue. I crossed my arms against my chest, trying to look intimidating, only to realize I was standing shirtless in a pair of shiny designer jeans and my nonsexy underwear.

“Is this the entire outfit?” I grumbled at him.

He wiped his eyes. “It could be, if you wanted. I’m sure Vince would appreciate the view.”

I poked my stomach and watched it dimple. “I highly doubt he wants to see what happens when you eat too many burritos from Los Betos. Am I allowed to complain that I’m having a fat day when I’m always fat?”

Sandy clucked his tongue. “You’re not fat,” he said seriously. “You’ve got some padding. There’s a difference. It means that you can get fucked pretty damn hard.”

“I’m not going to have sex with him!”

“Why not?”

“I have principles.”

“Fuck your principles. Put this shirt on.”

He tossed me a fire-red button-down collared shirt that I hadn’t seen in forever since it had shrunk a bit in the wash and I didn’t feel comfortable wearing it out in public. I thought about protesting, but it wouldn’t have mattered. I slid it on and buttoned it up. Sandy then came over and straightened the collar and rolled the sleeves up my forearms. I tried to take shallow breaths to avoid having the shirt explode like I was Bruce Banner and I’d just gotten very, very angry.

Sandy stopped fussing and took a step back, looking me up and down. He let out a low whistle, causing me to blush. “You clean up nice, Auster,” he growled, a little bit of Helena slinking through. “You’re gonna get balled.” He grabbed me by the hand and pulled me in front of the mirror.

Reflection Paul looked moderately resigned for a split second, but then his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Holy crap,” I said. For some reason, I looked good. Like, way good.

“Told you,” Sandy said smugly.

“I look ripped,” I breathed, starting to flex my forearms in the mirror. “Ish.”

“Er, let’s not go that far,” Sandy said, pulling me away from the mirror, lest I became betwixt by my reflection and started macking on the glass. “And don’t do that in front of Vince either.”

He pulled me into the bathroom and spritzed me three times with my cologne and was about to open his mouth to say something when the doorbell rang. Wheels starting barking like we were under attack, his little cart squeaking as he rode the ramp down my bed and tore into the hallway.

“Oh sweat balls,” I whispered, starting to panic

“Now’s not the time to freak out,” Sandy warned me. “Paul. Paul!”

“What if he realizes just how boring I am?” I said, ignoring him. “What if we’re sitting there, trying to have a conversation, and it just peters out into nothing because we can’t think of a single thing to say to each other? An awkward silence will fall where we’ll just look at each other and he’ll wonder just what the hell he was thinking asking me out on a date and then he’ll do the whole ‘Oh, sorry. Looks like my neighbor just texted me and my apartment was destroyed by a turbine that fell off a plane, so I need to take you home and, oh, by the way, I’m moving to Alaska tomorrow, so we won’t be able to see each other again.’ But no, because we work together, I’ll have to see him every day, and then that motherfucker Tad will be all like, ‘Oh, hey, Vince! I heard about that god-awful date you were forced to go on with Paul where he didn’t even wear sexy underwear and had jeans that made his ass look like a disco ball! I’m all tight and hot and perky, so you and I should go fuck on Paul’s desk and laugh at him while you put your dick up my butt.’ God, I hate Tad so fucking much, that stupid little whore!”

Then I realized I was talking to myself. I heard the front door open and Sandy exclaimed, “Vince!” quite loudly. “How lovely it is to see you again. How are you feeling? I certainly hope you haven’t gotten hit by any more cars!”

I ground my teeth together, planning intricate revenge plots that would end with Sandy framed for the murder of an English baroness.

“Hey, Sandy,” Vince said cheerfully, and my traitorous heart stumbled in my chest.

“You’ll have to bear with us a moment,” Sandy said loudly. “Paul’s in the bathroom talking to himself in the mirror about sexy underwear and plane turbines.”

“Plane turbines?” Vince asked, sounding adorably confused. “I have a lot of pairs of sexy underwear.”

Of course he did.

“He’s worried a turbine will fall on your apartment, the poor thing,” Sandy said, raising his voice even louder.

I gripped the countertop tightly, trying to remember that Sandy and I had been friends for more than twenty years and that someone somewhere would miss him if he was buried in the desert in an unmarked grave.

“I think I have renter’s insurance,” Vince said. “But I don’t know if that covers planes.”

“I’m sure it does,” Sandy said smoothly. “Paul? Oh, Paul? Are you done talking to yourself? You have a guest!”

You can do this. Yo

Tags: T.J. Klune At First Sight Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net