Page 27 of I Could Be Yours

But it would look better on my bedroom floor.

“Shit.” Heat works its way up my chest and into my cheeks. Also, I wonder,yet again, what Nate is like in the bedroom. Would he pay attention to detail? Is he as good with his hands as he is his mouth?

Essie

That wasn’t for you. Disregard.

Nate

Then why did it endup in my messages?

And who else would you be dressing up for?

Essie

The instructor, obviously.

Another message pops up.

Rix

Be there in ten.

Nate goes silent. I grab my purse, slip my feet into heels, leave my tiara on the vanity—it’s probably a little much—and rush down to the lobby to meet my bestie.

Rix lets out a low whistle as I climb into the passenger side of her SUV. “Wow, looking hot for dance lessons.”

“Is it too much?” I run my hands down my mostly bare thighs. I picked a spaghetti strap summer dress with a skirt that flares and ends about eight inches above my knee. Underneath are a pair of matching bike shorts. Nate has already seen my underwear and more of me than he probably meant to, and we don’t need a repeat of that. Or for Tristan and our instructors to also get an eyeful of my butt.

“Not even a little too much.” She pulls away from the front door and signals into traffic.

“I thought Tristan would be with us?” And possibly Nate, but I can’t even say his name without it coming out all breathless and needy. That stupid kiss in the shed has been taking an excessive amount of bandwidth lately. It was hot, and Nate’s tongue, while usually barbed when it comes to me, was toe-curlingly perfect. Despite the smell of cut grass, dirt, and gasoline, and the distinct lack of ambiance, it’s now my second-favorite kiss. Irritatingly, Nate owns spot number one as well. And then there was the run-in at the bar the other day. He was so…nice. But I’m attributing that to his being caught off guard. Needless to say, I’m a little on edge tonight.

“He and Nate had to pick some stuff up for their boys’ weekend,so they’re meeting us there,” Rix explains as she heads toward the highway.

“Any idea what they have planned?” I rummage around in my bag for my travel makeup kit. I need to highlight every asset I have.

“Nope. Any hints on our plan?”

“I’m maintaining the surprise. Your job is to pack a bag for a weekend of fun.” I’m impressed that I’ve been able to keep the girls’ weekend completely under wraps. The Babes know they need their passports and clothes for going out and sightseeing, plus a bathing suit, but that’s it. I’m confident it will blow the guys’ weekend out of the water, whatever they’re doing.

“You won’t even give me a hint?” She turns her pouty, sad-puppy face on me.

I stay focused on dusting bronzer on my cheeks since I’m not immune to that look. “You know I wouldn’t plan something you didn’t love.”

“This is true.”

And I don’t trust that Tristan wouldn’t find a way to coerce the information out of her post-orgasm. That man is fully dedicated to meeting every single filthy need she has. I switch the subject to avoid spilling the beans. “How are you feeling about everything? Are there things you need to offload onto me?”

“I’m mostly excited, and you’re already handling so much.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” I’m a helper by nature, so organizing things and taking stuff off her plate is my love language. “What are the other feelings aside from excited, and what’s the ratio of those compared to the excitement?” Rix has a degree in accounting, and I love data, so percentages are a safe way to gauge how she’s feeling.

She taps the wheel. “I’m eighty-five-percent excited, five-percent overwhelmed, and ten-percent nervous.”

“What’s overwhelming you?” I have access to her wedding plan document and spreadsheet. If I see things that arehighlighted or need to be tackled, I’ll just do them and mark them as done to ease her nerves and lower her stress.

“I just want it all to go smoothly, and I’m worried there will be glitches,” she admits.

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