Page 95 of Hate You Later
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. We should go back,” he says, and sets me down on my unsteady feet. His eyes are darker, and some of my lipstick has rubbed off on his lips. I trace them with my fingertips, wiping away the telltale red streaks.
“It appears I’ve rubbed off on you. I knew I could corrupt you.”
He traces my lips with his finger and pulls me in for another kiss, quick and with a flick of his tongue that has me trembling. “You’re a naughty girl. I’m going to have to keep an eye on you.”
By the time we get back to the tent, it appears it is time for the fashion show.
* * *
Xander is tapping on a wine glass with a spoon, and Lilly is ringing her mother’s brass bell to get everyone’s attention.
“What’s this? What’s going on, Lilly?” Lilly’s mother’s teeth are gritted as she speaks through a large, artificial smile. Lilly merely shoots her a thumbs-up sign before jumping up onto a chair.
“Everyone knows what a fan my friends and I are of Xander Starr’s pet transformations, right?”
Lilly’s friends clap and cheer, along with Walker and a few of the moms in attendance.
“We wanted to treat you all to a different kind of transformation today though.” She turns toward Xander, who steps up on a chair beside her.
“Today, instead of turning a pet into a superhero or movie character, we’ll be reversing the process. We’re going to be transforming my sister, Georgia, and Lilly’s brother Hudson into their online alter egos. Did I mention that Georgia and Hudson both have shelter pets in their lives?
“The videos Lilly and her friends make will be posted with information about how to support the Kismet Pet Rescue Organization,” Xander explains.
“And I’ll be donating my birthday money to Kismet too!” Lilly chimes in.
“Get ready for an EXTREME makeover and quite a show!” Xander says. And then he and Lilly fist-bump, both looking at us defiantly.
“Those little shits,” Hudson whispers under his breath.
“They are so dead,” I agree.
* * *
After the party, we buy a packet of baby wipes, some eye makeup remover, and a bottle of toner. We bring it all back to my place.
“Stand still, Furball!” I admonish.
Hudson is sitting in my bathroom on the edge of my tub, and I am attempting to remove the caked-on makeup from his face.
“I’m so glad you knew what to buy,” he says. He sorts through my bowl of bath bombs and sniffs. “Ooh, I like this one.”
“Shall I run you a bath?” I ask sarcastically.
“Only if you’re willing to join me.”
“I thought cats didn’t like water.”
“You shouldn’t stereotype, Georgia.”
“Take off your T-shirt,” I order, wiping my way past his beautifully carved jaw, down his neck, and toward his collarbone. “I need better access here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He complies, pulling the shirt over his head. It’s the first time I’ve had a really good look at his bare torso. As I wipe the last of the makeup off his neck, I can’t peel my eyes away from the hard planes, smooth skin, and light dusting of blond hair in all the right places.
“Eyes up here,” he says, tipping up my chin. His eyes are gleaming provocatively.
“Right. I think I got most of it off.” I turn his chin back and forth to inspect my handiwork.
“Your turn, then.” He jumps up and spins me to sit on the edge of the tub. “So, I just use this stuff and the wipes?” He gestures at the bottle of makeup remover and the face wipes on the counter.
