Page 32 of The Love Dare
Tease him.
But how?
What can she do? What can she say? This whole time, Winnie’s been planning to get out of the limo, march right up tohim, and confess the three words that have been hovering on the tip of her tongue for years.I love you.But is Nina right? Will that be too much for him to process so quickly? Too shocking for him to absorb when he still sees her as Alex’s little sister? Does she need to become someone else, something else, first?
“Hello? Earth to Winnie? Are you ready?”
“Huh?” She looks up at the sound of her name.
Nina watches her, slightly amused. “The limo? Are you ready? It’s time.”
Shit. I am NOT ready.“Yeah.” She gulps. “Sure. I just have one question.”
“Which is…?”
“What do you think is the last thing he expects?”
Nina laughs. “I told you the truth is a bitch.”
“I’m serious,” Winnie implores. “I don’t— I can’t?—”
Nina puts a hand to her arm in silent support and squeezes. “Trust your instincts. You know him better than I do.”
“That’s not?—”
Nina turns around, leaving Winnie gasping for air. Then she holds out the champagne. “You want this before we go?”
Screw it.
With shaking fingers, Winnie accepts the glass and downs in it one gulp before she follows Nina out the door and into the warm summer night. They weave past trailers and crew, slipping through spotlights and shadows on their way toward a brilliant white limo. There isn’t another moment to talk as she’s shuttled inside. A makeup artist quickly does a few touch-ups while a wardrobe assistant cleans the dirt from her shoes. A production assistant and cameraman sit opposite her. The door slams shut. A blinking red light next to the lens turns on. And suddenly, it’s real.
She’s here.
She’s being filmed.
She’s on her way to Tyler.
And she has no fucking idea what to do.
Tease him.
Do the last thing he would ever expect you to do.
Honesty can wait.
Be a fantasy.
The words infiltrate like a swarm of locusts. There’s no escape. Every time she tries to pivot, they’re there, smacking her upside the head. She can’t swat them away. The production assistant asks her questions, and her answers probably make her sound like an idiot, because even as she speaks, she can’t think about anything else.
By the time the limo stops, she’s lightheaded—from the nerves, from the champagne, from the lack of dinner, from the epic spiral she’s been unceremoniously launched into. Someone comes and opens the door. She gets out. Hopefully, it’s somewhat graceful, but she doesn’t know. She can’t remember. It’s as though she’s not in control.
Winnie looks up.
Tyler is standing fifteen feet away, handsome as sin in a black tuxedo, his face painted with shock, his brows knitted with confusion. The moment their gazes meet, everything clicks. Nina’s right. He’s looking at her as if she’s his best friend’s little sister. And she needs him to see her as anyone else.
“Winnie, what the?—”
She doesn’t give him time to finish. She closes the distance between them, slides her hands up his chest, and gives him a fantasy—herfantasy.
