“It absolutely is, princess.” Her eyes darken when I say that last word, my voice sliding into the tone I’d use with her in bed.
Dirty. Rough. Hungry.
That’s the problem.
If I keep lingering in this zone, I’ll be participating in way more one-man shows than are good for my ego.
And I really need to get her out of my head, especially since I’m seeing her brother tomorrow.
11
“Bond. James Bond.”
Spencer adjusts his cuffs, then eyes himself approvingly. He glances over at me as I finish off my bow tie.
“Can’t help myself,” he adds. “It’s a requirement. You can’t wear a tux and not say it. Because I do look like Bond.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You and every guy in the world thinks that about himself.”
We’re at the tuxedo shop the next day for the last fitting for his wedding, making sure the measurements are right. The petite black-haired woman, who runs the shop that’s open even on a Sunday, fiddles with the lapels on my jacket and says, “You look good. You’re all set.”
I tip my head to Spencer as I begin to undo the bow tie. “Got anything that’ll improve his situation? A paper bag, maybe?”
She smiles then turns to the groom to work on final adjustments. I change back into my own clothes, and when I rejoin them, Spencer tilts his head toward me and sniffs the air. “Why do you smell like my sister’s laundry detergent?”
It’s like a car slamming on the brakes. Everything in my head screeches, and I’m caught red-fucking-handed. My brain sputters, and tons of excuses scurry toward my tongue. Then I tell myself to chill. Tons of people use the same soap, and just because she gave me detergent doesn’t mean I’m wearing a billboard that says I want to bang your sister.
I just feel like I am. As if every little thing—even the most innocuous—reveals my hand. I’ve got to get my shit together especially since I have a dinner with Spencer, Charlotte, and Harper in a few days.
I slide on a poker face. “What are you talking about?” I ask, giving him a look as if he’s the crazy one.
He leans closer, arches an eyebrow, and sniffs again. “Hmm.”
“Dude,” I say, stepping away. That one word conveys everything: this is a no-fly zone. But inside, I panic because how good is this guy’s nose that he can tell I’m using the same laundry detergent as his sister?
“Also, nice cat,” Spencer tosses out.
My pulse pounds in my neck. “What cat?”
“On Harper’s arm,” he adds. “She was with Charlotte this morning, picking up the bridesmaid dresses.”
Oh. Right.
The evidence in ink. On Harper’s arm.
Note to self: Find out why the hell Harper didn’t shower today.
“Yeah? Charlotte liked my Bucky the cat?”
Spencer cracks up. “Absolutely. If the TV business doesn’t work out, you should start aping other cartoonist’s work for a living.”
I roll my eyes.
His expression shifts to serious. “What’s the deal though? Harper told Charlotte you were hanging out more. That you had coffee yesterday, and she gave you detergent since she spilled something on you?”
“Hot chocolate. Everywhere. Like it was a new design,” I say quickly, since that’s the truth. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with us getting a drink now and then. And then, like a frying pan to Woody Woodpecker’s head, it hits me why Harper told Charlotte the simple truth. The fact that we’re hanging out isn’t something Harper has to hide.
I’m the one with the big secret—that I’m completely fucking tempted by my best friend’s sister in every way.
Unrequited lust sucks balls. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
The tux lady pats Spencer’s shoulder. “You’re all set now,” she says to him.
He thanks her then eyes me in the mirror. “You’re just hanging out with her, right?”
My chest pinches even as I answer honestly with a nonchalant, “Yeah.”
“Good.” He sounds relieved, and part of me wants to ask why the hell I’m not good enough for her. He claps me on the back. “Because Charlotte wants you to meet her sister at the wedding. Natalie’s single, and a babe.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised, because that was not the answer I’d expected at all. I try to play it cool. “I never pegged you as a matchmaker.”
He shakes his head. “Not my idea. My bride’s. And what she wants, I want.”
“Sure. Happy to meet her.” Maybe Natalie and I will hit it off, and she’ll get my mind off the one person I need to stop thinking about.
“Wedding hookups are awesome, right?”
“They’re the best,” I say.
“And if there were anything more than hanging out going on with you and my sister, you know what I’d do to you.”
I run a hand through my hair. “You do realize neither I, nor my hair, are the least bit afraid of you. You’re like the definition of not scary, right?”
Spencer laughs. “I can be terrifying. Just ask my sister.”
But I don’t really want to talk to Harper about her brother. When I take out my phone later that day to text her, I find she’s already sent me a note.
12
I must have missed her text when it came through earlier.
Princess: Hey. Charlotte knows you smell like springtime, and it’s my doing. She saw my Bucky tattoo. I could have passed it off as my initiation to a new badass feline aficionado gang, but instead I fessed up. But I didn’t let on that you’re like my love doctor or something. And that you’re writing me prescriptions for the good stuff.