Page 61 of The Boyfriend Gamble

Yeah, definitely brushing before bed. Not that I didn’t brush and floss three times a day anyway. I was a little anal about that.

Being a dentist and all.

“You’re cute.” A sultry voice behind me spoke just as fingers skittered along the back of my neck.

I turned.

“Dr. Johns.”

Goldie’s expression of shock would’ve been comical if I hadn’t been her dentist for the last eight years. The urge to demand if she was nineteen was on the tip of my tongue. Had she been ten or eleven when I’d treated her first cavity?

I blinked.Right. Because that’s the most pressing problem.

“Uh…” She bit her lower lip. “My mom knows I’m here, and she said I was allowed.”

Okay. Blatant lie. I might be three sheets to the wind, but even I could see a huge lie with maybe a grain of truth. “Your mother knows you’re at this bonfire, with these friends—most of whom are older than you—and she knows you’re drinking?”

She bit her lower lip again. “Sort of.”

I arched an eyebrow.

Or at least I thought I did.

“My birthday was three days ago.”

Okay. That answers that question.

“How about you finish your drink, have some water, and call your mom? It’s pretty late.”

“Yeah, okay.”

And she would. Goldie was a good kid on track in something to do with science. Physics. Right? “How’s university going?”

“I aced all my first-year classes.” She winced. “And I’m coming to see you next week. Just before Christmas.”

“Well, make sure you brush your teeth before bed tonight.” I held up my cup. “This stuff—”

“Will rot my teeth.” She handed me her cup—still half full. “I’m going to grab a bottle of water and call Mom. I shouldn’t have hit on you.”

“You didn’t realize it was me.” Of that I was one-hundred percent certain.

Her eyes widened like saucers. “Oh God, no. But, still…” She winced. “I thought I wanted to lose my virginity tonight. I think being sober might be a better idea. Thanks.” She pressed a hand to my arm. “You’re awesome. Just, uh, don’t tell Mom…?”

“Perhaps text my answering service when you’re home safe? I’ll get the message, and then I won’t worry.”

“Yeah.” She gazed around. “You’re not driving, are you?”

“That obvious?”

“That you’re seriously hammered? Even with me being tipsy, I can see you swaying.”

“I like this song.”Except I don’t know what song this is.

“Oh.” Her brow furrowed. “Right. Wasn’t this thesong of the summerin, like, 2014?”

When she’d been, what, eight?

If my math was right.

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