Jules pulls one open and says, “Your princes and chariot await.”
Evening air greets me, brushing my long blonde waves away from my face. The sun is glaring, the kind of brightness you only get at dusk, unbothered by the clouds. But it’s quickly setting along the horizon.
My heart does a flip as my eyes fall to Dean and Asher, waiting on the stoop for me.
Good God, they are a sight to see …
Black slacks, button-up shirts open at the top and rolled at the cuffs. Complete with a sexy, slutty chain dangling around their necks. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to their beauty. It’s intense and damn near as blinding as the sun.
“My God, you look beautiful.” Asher strides over, offering me his hand and taking the garment bags in his other, draping them over his arm.
I slide my fingers between his, and he smiles, his pearly whites on full display.
Dean saunters over, looking as stoic as ever, but there’s also a slight heaviness in his gaze.
Something’s on his mind, but I don’t want to pressure him right now.
“Hi, handsome.”
Asher spins me under his arm, a laugh slipping free as he twirls me right into Dean.
“Hi, Princess.” He kisses my forehead, his big hands finding their home around my waist. “You look perfect.”
“Thank you,” I grin, struggling to meet his intense stare. “Shall we?”
We turn toward the stairs, and each guy takes my arm in theirs, guiding me gently down the steps.
“Are we heading there early? I thought you said dinner was at eight?” I ask as we reach the first landing and continue on.
Dean stays quiet for a beat too long, and it raises a flag in my mind.
Asher answers in his absence. “We want to show you something.”
My shoulders soften. I don’t know why that sentence makes me want to cry. Like they went out of their way to plan something to show me. That might seem like the bare minimum to most people, but it means a hell of a lot to me.
“Okay,” I whisper happily, but Dean’s quietness lingers heavily in the back of my mind.
Is he feeling okay? Is he questioning us? Questioning what we shared? Is he nervous about wherever we’re going? Being inpublic with me? Is he second-guessing taking me to his friend’s dinner?
The questions run endlessly through my mind as we head down the last set of steps, but I manage to quiet them for a moment.
I have been curious about how I’m going to ride on the back of one of their bikes with this slit in my dress, but evidently, they thought ahead.
A man in a suit is standing outside of some fancy SUV. “Good evening, Mr. Kensingtons. Ms. Matthews.” He opens the back door with a nod.
A humorous smirk tips my mouth up, and I purse my lips. “Hello.”
Dean offers his hand for me to help me up the step, and I slide onto the seat.
“Thank you,” I murmur, fixing my dress as I sit.
He nods, steps back, and shuts the door without a word.
I want to burst out of the car, grab him, kiss and hug him, and make him tell me what’s wrong. I know he’s internalizing everything right now, and I want to know why.
I haven’t known him to be this quiet in a while, and it’s breaking my damn heart. The back passenger door opens, and Asher slides into the seat, Dean into the seat in front of him.
The car pulls forward, and I lean over to Ash, whispering, “Are you taking me to some famousplayboy Ashspot?”
