Page 32 of On My Side
I bark out a surprised laugh, “Piper!”
“What? You should meet someone, and they might as well be rich.” She holds the shoes out to me. “My very own Daddy Warbucks, if you will.”
“I absolutely will not.” I roll my eyes and take the shoes from her.
“Rich and entitled isn’t your type?” Piper asks as I pull my robe off. Both my bra and underwear are at least five years old, and I wince when I catch the beige-ish colored fabric in the mirror. “Say,” she continues, “whatisyour type?”
“Good try, birdie.” I laugh, pulling the dress over my head. “We’re not having this discussion.”
“Lorelai and Rory do!” she whines.
I smooth the skirt down and look in the mirror. Curse this troublemaking, possibly matchmaking offspring of mine. The color does compliment my hair.
“Well?” I ask Piper, spreading my arms out and twirling, the skirt swooshing satisfyingly around my legs.
“If youwereflirting with Mr. Q—which I know, I know, you’renot—he’d totally flirt back.”
I scowl at her. “I’m changing.”
Of course that’s when there’s a knock at the front door. Piper has a shit-eating grin on her face.
“Ohno,” she says theatrically. “It’s too late. Guess you’ll have to stay in the hot cougar outfit.”
“What did you say?” I ask, mouth agape as she literally skips from the room.
She, of course, doesn’t answer and I hear the click of the door unlocking. I sigh and fluff my hair before grabbing my purse. I justknowshe didn’t check the peephole before she opened it.
“Hi, Mr. Q!” she says with an excitement I’ve heard maybe twice in this child’s life. Maybe it’s because she’s excited for the concert, which I’m sure she is.
But I have a hunch she also has some questionable matchmaking goals for the night. And what happens if she’s successful? I let Ren in, and he rocks my world in bed obviously, and when Piper and my life is too much, he leaves and breaks our hearts?
“You can do this. You’re casual friends who are doing this for your favorite fifteen-year-old with questionable intentions,” I tell myself in my mirror, running my hands over the curves and dips of my body. “You’re doing this for Piper. You can keep a healthy distance.” I nod determinedly at myself in the mirror before spinning on my heel, throwing the bedroom door open, and immediately realizing I’m screwed.
Ren in his workout clothes is sexy as fuck. Ren in the khaki shorts and college t-shirts he wears while teaching piano lessons is gorgeous.
But Ren in chinos and a sky blue shirt with the top buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows?
Holyshit.
This man is the beauty standard for men.
The blue makes his eyes pop, and I swear his lips are plumper than usual, his hair even curlier. I can’t help but wonder if he styled it differently, or if this unbelievably gorgeous outfit of his just makes it look different.
Or maybe I am as slutty as everyone said.
The Piper-induced anxiety is still there, but accompanying it is a different, and frankly unwelcome feeling: good old-fashioned horniness.
I’m debating turning around and making retching noises to fake being sick when he glances up from Piper and meets my eyes.
Maybe I’m delusional, but I swear to god, this man does a double take before his eyes do a once-over. I watch with amixture of emotions as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
It’s been a minute since someone looked at me like I was something lovely to behold, something they don’t want to take their eyes off.
Okay, I don’t think it’s actuallyeverhappened.
Until tonight.
Ren’s gaze meets mine again, and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles.
