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“Huh?” I grabbed the bowl and my wine glass.
Josh filled his glass.
You know, the one he’d just turned down.
“The white dress. To the date. The spaghetti?”
Oh. Oh. He thought I wore the one in the picture I’d sent him.
“Oh, no,” I said as we both sat back on the sofa. “I wore a white dress, but not the one you saw.”
“Oh.” If the way his shoulders sagged was anything to go by, he was relieved.
I frowned. “Why do you look so happy about that?”
“Happy about it? What do you mean?”
“Well, you went from looking like I’d kicked your puppy to telling you I’d bought you a puppy.”
“I just thought the dress was a little much for a first date, that’s all.”
“You didn’t say that earlier.”
“I was trying to be diplomatic.”
“So you’re saying it now?” I raised an eyebrow. “So much for being my guide through all things dating.”
“It just… isn’t a very you dress, that’s all.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Josh rubbed his hand down his face. “Shit, that came out wrong.”
I put my glass down and glared at him. “Wrong? How was that supposed to come out that wasn’t almost entirely insulting?”
“I—” He clamped his lips shut, meeting my eyes. An emotion I didn’t recognize swirled in his gaze, and I tore mine away. I didn’t want to look at him right now.
I was freaking pissed.
I downed the last huge mouthful of my wine and stomped into the kitchen. If I wasn’t drinking my feelings before, I sure as shit was now.
It wasn’t a very me dress?
What the hell kinda crap was that?
Was it any wonder I read romance? Guys didn’t say that nonsense in books.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Josh said, following me in and standing next to me.
I returned the half-empty bottle to the fridge door, putting a barrier between us. It swung shut after, revealing him to me, and I glared at him. “Then how did you mean it? Did the dress look that bad on? Is it something I should burn so I never wear it again?”
“No, shit—you didn’t look bad.”
“Then why was it a bad thing if I wore it?”
“It wasn’t a bad thing.”
“Then it must have looked terrible.”
“You looked fucking beautiful.”
I froze.
So did Josh. Almost like he wasn’t expecting those words to come out of his mouth.
I know I wasn’t.
“What?” The word left me on a whisper.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You looked beautiful,” he repeated, his voice a lot softer this time. Same with his gaze. It no longer held the edge it had a moment ago, but it was just as intense.
Intense and scary.
I swallowed and looked down at my bare feet. My nail polish had chipped on my big toe, and it was easier to focus on that than what Josh had just told me.
He thought I’d looked beautiful.
“Thank you.”
“I should go.”
We both spoke at the same time, neither of us looking at the other. Whatever it was that’d just happened had put in a kink in our easy friendship, even if I didn’t know what that meant for now.
“I should go,” Josh repeated, scrubbing his hand across the stubble that coated his jaw. “Work, you know.”
“Uh-huh. Um, you want me to call you a cab?”
He shook his head. “I’ll walk. It’s not far.”
“Are you sure?”
He gave me a tight smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll come get my truck in the morning.”
“Okay.”
He offered another smile before he turned, running his hand through his hair. “Kinsley? I am sorry about your date tonight.”
I stared after him for a moment. The lack of sincerity in his voice astounded me, but I just didn’t know why. He’d already expressed that sentiment once or twice this evening, and I’d genuinely thought he was sorry.
So why wasn’t he now?
The front door opened, and I rushed after him.
“Josh.”
He stilled in the doorway. “What?”
Swallowing, I asked, “Are you really sorry? That my date was terrible?”
He didn’t move for a long, agonizing moment. Then he slowly turned his head so he was looking over his shoulder. His gaze caught mine, a storm swirling in his eyes.
And he said one word.
“No.”
Then, before I could say another word, he was gone.
My front door clicked shut. It was such a gentle sound, yet it seemed to echo through my hallway.
What the hell did that mean?***JOSH: I have another guy for you.I stared at my phone. Twelve hours ago, he’d basically said he was happy my date had gone badly and that I was beautiful, and now…
Well, now, it was like none of that had ever happened.
If we’d both been super drunk, I’d have written it off as a slip of the tongue. But we weren’t. Sure, I’d been solidly on the other side of tipsy when I’d gone to bed after I’d polished off the rest of the wine, but Josh had been nowhere near that.
