Page 84 of The Book Club Boyfriend
“Can I tell you a secret?” he asks, his eyes filled with that boyish charm I’m not even going to pretend I’m immune to.
I nod.
“You’re going to be okay, Scarlett.” He says it with complete sincerity, absolute certainty, and not a hint of amusement.
My throat tightens. I take another spoonful of ice cream to keep myself from saying something ridiculous, like thank you or please stay.
But I’m not sure Chase is right. My entire truth has been cemented in the reality that I don’t need a man, thank you very much.
Except… I don’t believe it anymore.
Not entirely.
And that is the terrifying part.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Formal Wear & Flirting
Chase
The moment I step into the ballroom, I remember why I hate these things.
Stiff suits. Awkward mingling. Everyone trying to act casual while simultaneously seeking attention.
I tug at the collar of my tux—custom-tailored, yet it still feels like a noose—and scan the room for familiar faces.
Tyler spots me first, raising his glass. “There he is. Looking like James Bond with a penalty record.”
I flash him a grin. “Try not to swoon.”
My other teammates are scattered throughout the crowd—shaking hands, laughing too loudly, and being charming enough to meet their PR quotas for the night. Just as I’m about to join them, I see her.
Scarlett.
And just like that, I forget how to breathe.
She’s across the room, standing near a tall floral arrangement, looking spectacular. Her deep emerald green dress is silky and fitted in all the right ways, hugging her curves like it was custom-made just to torment me. Her hair is swept up, with a few loose strands curling at her neck, and her lipstick is a shade I want to memorize with my mouth.
She hasn’t seen me yet.
Which is good, because I need a moment to remember how legs work.
I knew from Vivian that she had been invited to this year’s charity gala—but she had been noncommittal when I asked if she planned to attend.
Classic Scarlett to be noncommittal. But I’m really glad she came. I haven’t seen her since she was wallowing on her couch with Rip and a pint of ice cream.
“Is that—?” Tyler sidles up next to me and lets out a low whistle. “Damn. She cleans up nice.”
I grunt.
“Oh no,” he says, clearly enjoying this. “You’re a goner.”
“Shut up,” I mutter.
“She hasn’t even looked at you, and you’re already undressing her with your eyes. This bet is over before it even started.”
Ielbow him hard. “It’snotabout the bet.”
