“You know who.” She steps in front of me, momentarily blocking my view, and I make a meager attempt at craning my neck.
“Him, that’s who. Serena, he’s your professor!”
“Yeah, well, it turns out he’s one naughty professor. There’s not one nice thing about that boy.”
“He’s a man, Serena.”
“So I’ve noticed,” I spit the words out as if it were a vile fact, and a part of me is convinced it is.
Shep breaks free from their stronghold and makes his way over.
An entire gaggle of choking noises emit from my throat. “He’s coming this way,” I hiss in the event Sunday wants to laud his manly attributes for all to hear. “Keep it down. The last thing Shep Collins needs is a stroke to his ego.”
She gives a sly glance over her shoulder. “He’s going to get stroked, all right. A man like Shep won’t make it too far into the singles’ scene looking like that.”
My stomach drops, heavy as a bowling ball. Sunday is right. Shep Collins is far too hot for his own custom Italian britches. That boy looks as if he’s about to get lucky tonight. Heck, he doesn’t just look the part. It’s etched onto him like fire over stone. About ten girls just sighed in his direction. And if you listen closely enough, you’ll hear every ovary popping in all forty-eight contiguous states. He flashes a smile, bright as lightning, and, oh hell, there go Alaska and Hawaii.
“Sunday.” Shep pulls her into a quick embrace. The scent of his spiced cologne hits me like a drug. Instantly, I’m intoxicated. I hate what a hypnotic effect cologne has on me. Sure, it depends on the host as to how viscerally I respond, but I refuse to believe that this hormonal imbalance I’m suddenly experiencing is anything other than my love for the woodsy scent. “You look stunning as usual.” He offers a quick peck to her cheek just as Trixie and Rush call her over.
“Thank you.” She does a little curtsy. “If you’ll excuse me.” She shoots me the stink eye, and I know what that look means. She thinks she’s right. She really does think I’m into him. Ha! It will be my pleasure to prove her wrong. So what if Shep and I swapped a little spit? He’s still as ornery and off-putting as ever. I am certainly not into Shepherd Collins.
“Aren’t you looking dapper today?” I suppose it would kill him to throw a compliment my way, so that makes me the bigger person.
Shep’s chest expands wide as an ocean. His eyes rake over me, doing that broken elevator thing as he takes me in. “I don’t think there are enough words in the English language to describe how you look, Serena. You are aware you’re not supposed to outshine the bride.”
My body spikes with heat, and a nervous giggle bubbles out of me for a solid minute straight. How quickly I’ve morphed into a vapid schoolgirl who just had the cute boy notice her. God, can I get any more annoying? He most likely felt compelled to say those things because he sensed how tense I was.
“Thank you, I think.” I glance down at my little black dress with a white bow cinched around my waist. It’s light and strapless, the perfect combo for an outdoor North Carolina wedding in July. Sunday and I went to the salon earlier and got our hair done together. Believe me, I needed to be pampered after having that run-in with that brute this morning. For a second, I think about bringing it up, but to be honest, the last thing I want to discuss at Sunday’s wedding is a murder investigation I’m involuntarily a part of.
A thought comes to me, a far more entertaining topic of conversation. “This old thing?” I give a sly smile his way. “I can’t help it. I always seem to be the best dressed person wherever I go.”
“Ah…” He tips his head to me, letting me know he remembers our little game well. As much as Shep and I don’t get along, there was a long stretch where we actually did. One of the things we got a kick from was playing the hell out of the humble brag game.
“And thank you as well.” He gives his lapels a quick tug. “I have a habit of being fearfully dapper on a daily basis.”
“Believe me, it doesn’t go unnoticed. But then, I have to endure my fair share of unstoppable catcalls myself.” I blow over my nails before buffing them against my chest. It’s two to one and I’m up.
Shep’s eyes connect with mine, and I’d bet money a spark just emitted from them. I could feel that electrical tingle straight down to my toes.
“I think you should carry mace and a stick to ward the boys off.” The smile glides from his face as Eli pops up and wraps an arm around me.
“What’s up?” He slaps Shep five, and I can’t help but notice how perturbed Shep suddenly looks. Note to self: Shep does not appreciate anything coming between him and his humble brags. I’m sure with an ego like his, it’s good to work them out of the system now and again.
Eli looks to me. “The app is almost operational. You should be good to go in just a few weeks.”
“Are you kidding?” I hop up and down, clearly losing my cool over a dating app I will most likely never utilize myself. I may have developed an app in which two strangers connect in the hope of a coital good time being had by all, but it doesn’t mean I have to believe in its lunacy. “That’s fantastic.” I look to Shep. “I mean, of course, this is working out on time. This is me we’re talking about.” I give Eli a quick wink.
Eli inches back with a laugh. “Rumor has it, the food truck is offering samples. I’d better load up before things get underway.”
He takes off, and I step in close to Shep, so close I can feel the heat radiating off him in strong, pulsating waves—sort of the way the insides of my thighs are quivering. His chest is so wide, so rock solid—I’ve gleaned this from experience—his dress shirt looks as if it’s straining to contain him.
“Can’t wait to eat all those sugary sweet cupcakes,” I breathe the words right over his lips, daring him to move, but Shep remains stealth in our standoff. “It really sucks knowing that no matter how many I inhale I won’t gain a single pound.” I give a little shrug—so not true, but what the hell. I’m not exactly sitting on a stack of Bibles. I might as well impress him with my mad metabolism skills—imaginary though they might be. Now that was the humble brag of the century.
Shep’s chest bounces with a laugh as he all but closes the gap between us, those eyes of his never leaving mine. The wicked intent on his face is enough to hold my attention for another millennium or longer.
His cheek flickers with the promise of something naughty. “It’s too bad no matter how much I drink I’ll never get as toasted as you did that night. I’ve always had an uncanny ability to hold my liquor.”
My lips part into an open smile. “So not fair. Those are fighting words and grounds for a do-over. I may be sobriety-challenged after I’ve had a few in me, but at least I know that pancakes aren’t meant to be crispy.”
