Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
I’m thrown off once again, like I was when he texted me the other day. But is it from the hand or the words? Or both? Or maybe from the way I like both. I remember Mabel’s words—enjoy it. “I do,” I say, feeling daring and breathless.
Something like a rumble seems to come from Lake. “So you missed me when I was gone.”
I blink. He went there? Talking about missing? “I—”
I don’t even know what to say.
“It’s okay. I know you did,” he says with a smug smile, then barely gives me a chance to answer since he adds, “what time do you want me to…come?”
I swallow, processing his naughty words, parting my lips, trying to speak without sounding like I’m thinking filthy thoughts as I give him the time of the dress fitting tomorrow.
“I’ll pick you up,” he says, then guides me toward the stairwell, opens the door, and lets it close. It’s just us now in the echoey landing, a set of concrete stairs a few feet away. He nods toward me, his expression shifting to something less cocky, more needy. “You never mentioned the gift.”
“Sorry. I was—”
He steps closer and presses his finger to my lips. “Don’t apologize. I just want to know if you got it. That’s why I was checking my phone on the massage table,” he says, his voice stripped bare now, more vulnerable. “I got a text that it had arrived.”
He’s touching me at work. He’s touching me in the hallway. He’s touching me, and he checked his texts while he was getting worked on. And I’m melting into a liquid woman since he’s desperate to know if I received his gift.
“Yes.” And I loved it unreasonably. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”
“Good,” he says, then drops his finger from my lips but doesn’t let go of me. Instead, he coasts his thumb along my jawline up to my ear. I’m shuddering from the contact as he whispers, “Wish me luck tonight, beautiful.”
I can’t think straight, but somehow I manage to say, “Good luck tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And I turn around, head for the stairs, but then before I think twice, I do something terribly impulsive. Something unplanned. Something completely unlike me.
I spin around. “Lake?”
With a hand reaching for the doorknob, he turns back. “Yes?”
Impulsively, I close the distance between us, my shoes echoing loudly against the concrete floor as I reach him, cup his cheeks, and press a quick, featherlight kiss to his lips. “Here’s a good luck kiss.”
He looks shell-shocked and woozy as I back up.
Mabel was right. I am enjoying myself. A lot.
* * *
The next day I’m grabbing my bag, checking the location twice for the dress shop, and racing back into the bedroom to stare into the mirror one more time and make sure there are no blackberries from my lunch stuck between my teeth when my phone trills.
It’s Caroline. She knows my fitting is in a few minutes. She must be checking in. Of course she is. That’s so her. Even though she can probably see me leave from her house one hundred feet away.
“I’m on my way. I’ll send pics, like I said. I promise,” I say, brightly reassuring, hopefully before she can start to worry.
But she doesn’t answer with words. She answers with a scratchy, loud bark. “I’m sick!”
“You are?” I automatically slide into nurse mode. “Want me to bring you some soup? Popsicles? Do you need more vitamin C? Some cough drops? Some medicine? Need me to take you to urgent care? I’ll call a Lyft for us.”
“Noooo,” she says, wheezy and sad and so not her.
“Okay, what can I do? Name it.”
“I need you to do the lipstick test for me.”
I stop in the kitchen, set a hand on the counter to steady myself. “What do you mean?”
“Remember at the picnic? Margot and I decided to do the lipstick test? It was supposed to be tomorrow. But I’m too sick, and I don’t want to get Parker sick, and I have to get it done soon. So can you do it today? With your date?”
My mind whirs with the thrill of more kisses. But also the fear of asking Lake to kiss me. That good luck kiss in the stairwell was fun, spur of the moment. This would be planned.
The last time I thought I knew what a man wanted, I became the Friendship Bracelet Girl. Sure, Lake has kissed me on camera, but when my ex has been around, at the picnic, at the bakery.
Jameson isn’t going to be present at the maid of honor dress fitting. It’ll just be us. Just me and the flirty guy who wants to show me how a good boyfriend behaves.
But would he want the lipstick test as much as I do? That’s my biggest worry—that it’d be one-sided. So I need to be crystal clear on what my sister expects. “What’s entailed in a lipstick test?”