My pulse skyrockets. My mouth goes dry. My cock leaps to attention.
And I almost choke on the burger because I can’t swallow it with a dry mouth, and I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with my body.
Have to take a gulp of tea to get the burger down.
All because a curvy brunette in a tight pink skirt, a low-cut white blouse, and stilettos arrived to finish lunch with me.
“Sorry,” she says, completely out of breath as she drops into the seat across from me and pulls off her sunglasses. “Ridhi called in that favor I owe her, and then—”
“What’s the favor?”
She flaps a hand, still catching her breath. “Oh, that. Just a—” She glances around, drops her voice, and leans closer, plumping that cleavage up even higher as her chest heaves, and I absolutely, positively cannot stand up from this booth. “She wants me to plan a surprise party for Shiloh. I guess it’s one of those things Shiloh’s always wanted butpretends she doesn’t? And it’s, like, her thirty-somethingth birthday, not her fortieth, so doing itnowwill be totally unexpected.”
I shove a fry in my mouth and make a noncommittal noise.
Tavi squeezes her eyes shut and sighs. “She’s setting me up to look bad because Shiloh doesn’t want a surprise birthday party, isn’t she?”
“Nah.”
“Dylan.”
“Three things you need to know. One, Shilohhatessurprises. Two, Ridhi won’t tell you that she’s telling Shiloh that you’re planning a surprise birthday party, because that takes the fun out of Shiloh pretending to be mad at everyone who thinks we’ve actually kept it a secret. And three, don’t plan anything without running it by Teague first.”
Her nose wrinkles. “You want me to ask my sister’s boyfriend to help plan his ex-wife’s birthday party? I know they get along, but this is, like ... weird. And I once planned a surprise birthday party for Melanie Schwimmelstein where I had to work with three different boyfriends in that week that we were setting everything up, becauseoh my God, she used to go through boyfriends faster than Periwinkle Van Doherty would go through toothpaste, and her dad was, like, dentist to who’s who of the Upper East Side, so she went through toothpaste like it was champagne at the Minellis’ annual garden party. She actually brushed her teeth so much she needed gum grafts at sixteen, andhow gross is that?”
I shove another fry in my mouth and stifle a grin. She’s getting worked up, and she’s breathing heavily again.
She frowns at me. “Were you totally serious about all of that advice?”
“Totes.”
“Oh my God, don’t saytotes. It’s all wrong on you. But also, I really need help. I have too many other things going on to do this right, and it’s, like, things I can’t control. Like, theotherhalf of the reason that I’m late is because I was chasing a goose out of the library at the schoolwhen I was supposed to be getting ready for this.How?How has there beena gooseliving in the school library this whole time, and we didn’t know it?”
I don’t know if there was really a goose, if she’s really still out of breath, or if she’s putting on a show to make up for being late, but it makes me feel better that she’s suffering from some kind of nerves too. “Better question—how can you run sixty-eight miles a day and get out of breath chasing a goose?”
“Runs don’t flap in your face, Dylan.”
I grin. “See, I want to believe you, but there aren’t any feathers.”
“What?”
“Feathers. If you fought a goose, you’d be covered in feathers.” I point to her outfit, which I shouldnotbe looking at again, because she has lovely cleavage and that pink neck-wrap thing that’s probably called a scarf isn’t hiding it. If anything, it’s positioned perfectly to make people look at her cleavage.
I shake my head and remind myself I am not a man who can be distracted by cleavage. “No feathers.”
“I took a shower.”
“Uh-huh. French fry?” I hold one out to her, watching as lust overtakes her features.
“Oh, no, thank you. They use lard here, and I’m vegan.” She turns a smile to Zoe, the lunch server today, who’s sighing as she stops at our table. “Could I please have a side salad, but hold the cheese and croutons, and just bring me a little dish of vinegar for the dressing? And a Perrier, please. Thank you so much. And Iloveyour button. Do they sell those over at the Pink Box?”
Zoe blinks slowly behind her glasses. “It’s an autism awareness button.”
“I know, but I never know where to get them, because I never see them in stores.”
“You order them online.”
“Oh my gosh,duh. Of course. Thank you. The next time my grandmother lets me use the internet, I’m totes ordering one for, like, me andallof my friends.”
