Rachael moves to stand behind me, her giant ball of twisted braids piled on top of her head as she towers over me with all her statuesque bronze glory. She narrows her eyes at me. “I vote you still treat this like a date and have a good time. You work hard, and you deserve to have some fun with a man who you can…” She grabs my hips and swivels me side to side.
“Stop!” I squeak and fight back a nervous giggle as the image of Dean’s naked body hovering over me pummels me out of nowhere. I twist to face her and lose all humor. “I showed you the rules. There will be no hip action.”
She shakes her head sadly. “When was the last time you had any hip action?”
I squint and look up at the ceiling like it’s going to remind me somehow. “Well, Barrett and I broke up a few years ago, but we had that one random hookup last year.”
Rachael presses her hands to her temples, her jaw dropped. “How can you go a year without it?”
“I take care of myself, thank you very much.” My eyes flit over the bathroom drawer that contains all I’ll ever need in that department. Frankly, that drawer is ten times more fun than Barrett ever was.
She rests her hands on my shoulders. “Battery-operated toys cannot replace the natural power of a good dickin’.”
I bark out a laugh that gets caught in my throat, causing an uncomfortable cough attack when suddenly the buzzer on my door sounds off.
Rachael quirks a brow. “And he’s punctual…already a match made in heaven.”
“Go let him in, please,” I choke out and then scurry over to clear the mess spread all over my bathroom counter.
Rachael saunters away without a care in the world, and I immediately regret every decision about this night. I could have told my parents I wasn’t feeling well. Or scheduled an important business meeting that couldn’t be missed. Why can’t there be another franchiser conference somewhere right now? At least if I were there, I’d be excited and energized.
Not nauseous and wondering if the flips in my stomach are nerves or the urge to poo.
By the time I locate my jean jacket, I hear Dean’s low voice wafting down the hallway as he chats with Rachael. I do a quick peek around the corner, and I swear my nails dig into the plaster on the wall when my eyes land on him.
Dean looks…hot.
And annoyingly, no embarrassing lip sweat in sight.
He’s trimmed his dark beard so it’s just this thin layer of stubble that exudes sex appeal. He’s got on black slacks with brown loafers and no socks—seriously, how does he pull that off? And his perfectly tailored white button-down is peppered with black, tiny anchors, the top two buttons undone.
He looks effortlessly casual, like he listens to yacht rock on his imaginary sailboat. Nothing about me is casual or yacht rock smooth.
My body temp rises to a level that has me double-checking my deodorant as I swallow the lump in my throat and glance at myself in the hallway mirror. Bright red flesh stares back at me. Stupid fair skin. It shows literally every feeling I ever have.
Why can’t I be yacht rock smooth?
“Norah, stop freaking out and get your ass out here,” Rachael bellows, and suddenly, I’m no longer nervous. I just want to punch my friend in her pretty face.
Hesitantly, I emerge from around the corner and make my way toward them. I shoot an awkward smile to Dean and notice he’s not wearing his dark-framed glasses tonight. His brown eyes really pop now, looking less cocoa and more caramel.
“Wh-what’s up, Moser?” I stutter dumbly and fidget with my jacket.
“Norah, you look better than a strawberry cream croinut,” Dean says without skipping a beat. His eyes move down my body, and I feel like I could pee a little.
I clear my throat and point at the door. “Let’s get this over with, okay?”
Dean beams smugly. “Everything I’ve ever wanted to hear from a woman.”
Rachael laughs. “Try to remind her to have some fun, Dean.”
“I’ll give it the old college try.”
Dean winks at me, and I ignore the rush of butterflies in my stomach. He’s always been hot; this isn’t new information. My tummy flips are just nerves. Tonight is a business deal and nothing more. I can do this.
My parents live on the edge of suburbia Boulder. They built the house when I was in high school, and I remember drooling when my mother put a double oven in the kitchen. For as long as I can remember, my mother stayed at home, and my father worked long hours at his law office. Growing up, my mom was the one who taught me to bake and cook and do all the homemaker things. It’s ironic that she never wanted me to make a career out of it.
These were the pointless thoughts I rambled to Dean as he drove us to the party. I don’t think I stopped talking long enough to breathe because by the time he ushers me toward the gated entrance to my parents’ backyard, I feel faint.
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” I ask, turning to face him and wiping my sweaty palms off on my dress. “We could just get out of here and get drunk instead.”
Dean’s eyes dance with amusement. “Do you ever relax enough to get drunk, Norah?”
My brow furrows. “I’ve been drunk before…I think.”
Dean shakes his head and opens the gate. “It’s going to be fine. Let’s go have some fun.”
“Everyone keeps telling me to have fun,” I hiss, my hands clenching into fists by my sides. “What part of a bougie backyard barbecue with a bunch of sixty-year-old yuppies sounds fun?”
Dean’s shoulders shake with laughter, and the scent of his cologne engulfs me as he leans in to whisper in my ear. “Norah, you look seriously beautiful tonight. Please try to relax.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and ignore the shivers running down my neck from his hot breath on my flesh. He gestures for me to walk ahead, and my errant butterflies disappear because my parents’ backyard looks like it’s hosting a large wedding, not the intimate party for their close friends my mother described.
“She got a live band?” I croak in amazement as I recognize a cover song from Bryan Adams. My brows lift with amazement. My mother may be uptight, but she’s also the one who passed along the love of seventies and eighties power ballads, so this is actually pretty impressive.
However, the moment I see she’s hired servers in bow ties, who are probably sweating their asses off in this eighty-degree weather, her cool factor is blown to smithereens.
Dean rests his hand on the small of my back. “No back touches,” I hiss into his ear as goose bumps erupt up my spine. My body is seriously betraying me tonight, and I don’t need him getting handsy, making me even more of a mess than I already am.
“Sorry, I was only leaning in to ask if your mother knew I was coming?”
My eyes fly wide, and I whirl around to face him. “Oh my God, I was going to text her and completely forgot.”
Dean smiles while glancing over my shoulder. “I wondered because the woman coming toward us who has your eyes is currently staring at me like I have two heads.”
“Norah!” My mother’s voice peals from behind me, and I turn too quickly on my heel and damn near face-plant.
Dean’s warm hands engulf my waist to help stabilize me as she approaches.