I extend my hand in the air and give him a twirl.
“Holy shit. Delilah—you . . . the back,” he stammers, running his hand along his jaw. “Poppy warned me, but she didn’t do you justice. Her words were, ‘you’ll have the hottest date at the gala.’ But she was wrong. You’re the hottest date in thehistoryof dates. You pulled out all the stops.”
Heat prickles at my cheeks with the way he’s looking at me like he’s never seen anything quite like me in this dress.Thisis why I wanted the dress—I feel invincible and so sexy. But my date, he’s my equal in that department. Cruz always looks good, but right now I’m questioning everything I’ve ever said about being just friends. This man is every woman’s fantasy and I have to keep my hands to myself because he’s my best friend.
Honestly, I am not sure how I’m going to manage because I think he could impregnate me with a wink. “I’m not the only one that pulled out all the stops.” I step into him, giving the shiny lapels of his suit a gentle tug before smoothing down the tie. He just fixed it, but I can’t resist the urge to touch him. “You look sharp in this suit. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up with a trail of women following you home like a sexy pied piper.”
He gives me a gravelly laugh and holds his hand out. “The only woman I’m interested in spending time with tonight is you. You look breathtaking, Hermosa. Ready to go stun the world with our amazingly good looks?” His accent comes out to play, giving him an unfair advantage—one he definitely doesn’t need because he’s already the most charming man I’ve ever met. Top his sweet words with a voice that sounds like it’s dripping in butter? How’s a girl supposed to keep her cool?
I do my best not to let my fluster show and place my palm in his hoping he doesn’t notice the slight tremble. He tucks me under his arm as we walk toward the elevator. “I’ve never felt more beautiful and confident and I have you to thank for that. The dress was more than enough, but the shoes and the clutch—you’re too good to me. I’m grateful to have someone who looks out for me even when I’m being stubborn. It seems you know me better than I know myself.”
He pauses, turning to face me. His hand cups my cheek and I lean into it, letting my eyes close. “Delilah, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you—big or small.” His lips skim across my forehead gently before he tugs on my hand, leading me into the waiting elevator.
“You got us a limo.” My voice is high-pitched and girly at the prospect of arriving at the gala in a limo. Sometimes I forget Cruz is famous and gets to do these kinds of things all the time. He’s so down to earth, and, to me, he’s just the guy who chatted with me one of the many times Brad was running late. Or the new friend that came by the coffee shop with a warm smile and jokes, the one who did everything he could to be there for me while I got my life back together.
“We didn’t get all glammed up for nothing. You and I are going to walk that red carpet like we own it. But I’ll just be background noise. All eyes are going to be on you.” His warm hand drops to the small of my back, making me shiver at the roughness of his big hand against my skin. Opening the door to the limo, he ushers me in before sliding in next to me.
Chapter 4
Gala Night
Present
Delilah slides into the limo, smoothing her dress as her eyes dart around the interior. I take advantage of the fact that she’s distracted and take her in. When that door opened, it took everything in me not to march her backwards into her apartment and keep her there all night, where only I would get to see her like this.
Poppy told me to prepare myself, but she left out a few things. Essential information like the way the slinky, red silk drapes across all of her curves, gliding over her hips and highlighting the best parts of her—the swell of her breasts and the delicate shape of her waist. I bite my lip just thinking about the way she twirled, revealing the open back and the way it grazed the swell of her ass.
There’s no fucking way she’s wearing underwear with that dress. I adjust myself, cursing the fact that all of the effort I had put in upstairs, to avoid getting hard over my best friend, had been pointless. Meanwhile Delilah leans forward, grabbing the bottle of champagne, and then I slide in next to her, plucking it from her slender fingers.
“Are you going to let me at least pretend to be a gentleman and offer you some?” I tease, grabbing two flutes as the driver pulls away from the curb.
Delilah takes them, holding them out while I pour. “What should we toast?”
“To beautiful friends, and a beautiful friendship, with many more years of making memories together.”
The sheen in her eyes and the blush that blossoms across her cheeks makes me want to keep talking—tell her all the things I feel so she never stops looking at me like that. “Are you trying to ruin my makeup with that toast? It was perfect.”
“Not yet. That comes later, when I get you all sweaty and mess up that hair.”
Her eyes turn into saucers like the Maria doll my mom keeps on a shelf at home, and her mouth drops open and closes wordlessly. I replay the words in my head as her chest heaves with choppy inhales.
“Dancing Delilah, I meant dancing,” I say with a nervous laugh, although the dirty thoughts of other ways to get sweaty with her are really fucking appealing. I mentally scold myself knowing she’s not ready to pursue a relationship with anyone and, as her friend, I’m supposed to have her best interests at heart.
She ghosts a hand up over her throat holding it there and fuck if I don’t imagine replacing it with my own. “Dancing, of course. How else would you make a mess of me?”
“Is that a rhetorical question, Hermosa? Or was Brad such a miserable excuse for a fiancé that I need to explain to you all the ways a man can mess up a woman’s hair while getting sweaty together?”
Her throat works under her delicate fingers and I lift my champagne to my lips before I take this any further and ruin our night. I glance out the window to give her the space she needs, and I swear I hear her mumble a string of nonsense about her,“best friend,”“sex on a stick,”and“Buzz Lightgirth.”
When the driver pulls up to the curb, camera bulbs flash brightly as photographers snap pictures of my teammates and their dates exiting their cars. Next to me, Delilah’s got her plump, ruby red lip trapped between her teeth.
“Ready?” I extend my hand to her as the driver comes around to open the door. “You look flawless. You’re going to blow them all away.”
She nods before tilting her chin up and placing her hand in mine. When the door opens, I help her from the car and guide her along the carpet with my hand nestled against the skin right above the delicious curve of her ass.
Walking hand in hand, we stop to pose for a few photos by the team photographer. Delilah snuggles right into my side, beaming up at me as the camera shutter clicks. I can’t wait to see them, print one off, and display it where I can see it every day as a permanent reminder that I was lucky enough to have her like this, even if just for tonight.
The ballroom is already packed with guests dressed in their very best. Everyone is mingling as the band plays softly, accompanied by the tinkling of laughter and the hum of small talk. A server with a tray of champagne pauses as we pass, and I grab a flute for each of us.
