Page 31 of That One Night
“I can see that.” She pulled her lip between her teeth. His eyes met hers, and she could see amusement in them. “Frank is still asleep,” she told him.
“Which is what we both should be doing. The rain has eased off a little. I’ll grab us a couple of dry raincoats and make sure you get home safely.”
“I can make my own way home,” she told him. “You stay here with Frank.”
“Are you always this aggravating?” he asked.
“You’d have to ask my friends about that.” She rolled her eyes at him, but there was still a smile on her lips.
“And your fiancé.”
Wasn’t that just a bucket of cold water dumped over her? “I guess.”
“You guess?” He frowned. “Surely the man you’re going to marry knows you better than anybody else.”
She shifted her legs. “Of course he does. I just…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
He walked over to where she was with Frank, his body looking huge as he loomed over them. She could see the little droplets of water clinging to his skin.
“Why does it feel like you always walk around half naked?” she asked him, changing the subject because she didn’t want to talk about her engagement – or lack of it – right now.
“You’re one to talk.”
She bit down a smile. “That was a dare,” she said.
Hendrix blinked. In the half light his eyes looked almost black. “You were the only one there. Who dared you to go skinny dipping? Frank?”
The goat gave a little snore. God, she loved that sound.
“It was on a list,” she admitted. “My friend gave it to me before I came home. She dared me to complete them all.”
His brows lifted. “What kind of list?”
“A…” Okay, she couldn’t tell him it was a fuck-Trenton list. “She thinks I should go a little wild. Before…”
“You get married.”
“Something like that.” It wasn’t quite a lie. It wasn’t the truth either. And that sat way too heavy on her.
Hendrix hunkered down on the other side of Frank from where Emery was sitting. He patted the goat’s neck. “He feels warmer.” His gaze flickered to hers. “So your friend…”
“Maisie.”
“What did she put on this list?” he asked.
“Well, go skinny dipping, obviously. And get drunk.” She pulled her lip between her teeth, remembering the night she drank with him. “Those are the only two I’ve done.”
“Two beers doesn’t exactly constitute you being drunk,” he pointed out.
“Stop raining on my parade.” She pouted at him. “And I’m not a big drinker.”
He shook his head. “What else is on there?” he asked her.
“Get a tattoo.”
“Of what?” Hendrix looked genuinely interested. And yeah, there was still the unspoken panty situation between them, but she liked how easy this felt. Two friends, chatting. Not the guy who told her to stay away, or a guy that her ex hated.
Just two people and a goat in a living room. Your every-day kind of situation.
