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“Are you assuming I’m one of those women?” Tracy asked.

“Shouldn’t I?” he asked.

“Hell, yeah, you should.” Tracy took a sip and shot him a wink, while he laughed.

During all the banter, Dean realized that Violet had made her way back to his side, her shoulder brushing his. The hairs on his arm stood up, and despite the heat, gooseflesh rose up over his skin.

“You aren’t drinking your beer. Worried I slipped you a roofie?” she asked.

Dean released a startled laugh and then took a large gulp of his beer, holding it in his cheeks like a chipmunk. Violet giggled, and he swallowed, opening his mouth for her inspection. “There. Now I guess we just wait and see.”

“Don’t worry. If I wanted to have my way with you, I’d just go about it the old-fashioned way.” She tipped her cup up to her lips and with only her eyes showing, wiggled her eyebrows.

Dean was intrigued, despite his best intentions. “And what is the old-fashioned way?”

Violet swallowed and stepped closer to him, laying her free hand against his chest. Dean stood frozen, holding his breath as she looked up at him from beneath the fan of her black lashes. Slowly, she stood up on her tiptoes and put her mouth next to his ear, her breath warming his ear and his cock stirred to life as he breathed her in.

“Well, I’d start by getting closer, giving you light, brief touches on your arm, hand”—she moved her hand lightly across his chest—“maybe even the front of your T-shirt.”

God help him, where the hell had this come from? She couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d stripped naked and danced around him. Maybe appearances were deceiving; she looked like she should be leading her church choir, not whispering sweet nothings to him in public.

She dropped back onto her feet, and Dean wanted badly to pull her back and press his aching hard-on against her.

He glanced toward Tyler, but he was back to being completely absorbed in Tracy.

“That. . . ahem . . . That’s all it would take?” Dean asked.

“Well, I hope not. If you’re that easy, then where is the fun?”

Dean choked, and Violet’s laugh drew Tracy and Best’s attention.

“What’s so funny?” Tracy asked.

“Nothing, Dean and I were just getting to know each other. Right?”

Everyone was looking at him, but while Tracy and Tyler did so with curiosity, Violet’s gaze held a definite challenge. Was she daring him to spill the beans or agree with her?

“We were just talking about the concert, and I told Violet that I was just glad I wouldn’t have to sit through Gaga.”

Tracy crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, I know you’re lying, ’cause Violet loves Lady Gaga and would never laugh at you dissing her.”

“Actually, Trace, I have a confession . . . ” Violet paused, and Dean saw Tracy’s eyes narrow. “I actually hate Gaga. I just went to all those concerts to be a good friend.”

Tracy put her hand to her forehead and pretended to faint. Best caught her in his arms, grinning at Violet and Dean. “Is she always this dramatic?”

“She was a double major at Sac State,” Violet said. “English and theater.”

Tracy blinked up at Best with a sigh. “Thank you for catching me.”

“Anytime.” Best almost sounded sincere, except Dean knew his buddy well. Tracy would be lucky to get a phone call after tonight.

Tracy looked at Violet with a grim expression. “I forgive you for this horrible betrayal.”

“That’s magnanimous of you,” Violet said.

“One of my many qualities.” Tracy fixed Best with a sly grin. “I’m also incredibly generous.”

On that note . . . Now that their friends were distracted again, he asked Violet, “Do you really hate Gaga?”

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