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“While she’s all sticky and covered in coffee.” Fred started undoing the buttons on his shirt. “Take this.”
I held up a hand to stop him. Not that I would have minded the show. “I’m okay, really.” I didn’t look cute in a guy’s shirt, the way some girls did. It would probably fit, but I wouldn’t drown adorably in it. “Besides, we can’t both be showing off our assets. People will get the wrong idea about this place.”
“Do they have coffee shops like that? They should,” Barney said.
If they were going to pretend this was no big deal, I could summon some phony self-assurance. Sex, fake confidence, and self-effacing humor had been my shield most of my life. “The kind where they spill your coffee on you instead of letting you drink it?
Barney looked me over again. Every time he did that, I swear I felt his gaze. “Assumingtheyisyou, do I get to lick it off after?” he asked.
Was he hitting on me or making fun of me? It didn’t matter. The coffee was drying and my clothes were getting uncomfortable. “I’m sorry about your shoes. Thanks for your help, but I need to get home.”
I turned away, eager to escape the embarrassment and confusion.
Chapter Two
Iwas halfway to mycar, when I heard, “Betty.” Fred jogged up next to me. “Wow, that really does sound weak.”
“It really does.” I looked at him with raised brows, it probably wouldn’t if it were my name, but it didn’t escape me he still didn’t offer his real name.
Barney joined us. “If you get in your car now, it gets covered in coffee too, and you have an uncomfortable drive home. We’re staying next door. Walk over with us, and you can clean up in my room. Borrow something dry. Be on your way.”
“Wow, that’s...” I had no words.
“Super generous, right?” Barney winked. Hiscutewas becomingcreepy.
Fortunately, it helped me grab an answer. “A unique, but not super convincing way to get me to come back to your room.”
Fred shrugged. “You’re the one who spilled the coffee.”
I didn’t appreciate the reminder, but he said it without accusation or cruelty. He almost looked hurt at my tone. That hardly seemed fair. “Then thisisn’ta ploy to get me to join him in his room?” I asked.
“His room, my room. It absolutely is.” Barney grinned.
It should have occurred to me to wonder before now, which of them was hitting on me? I’d say Barney, but Fred was working awfully hard to keep me happy. He was either one hell of a wingman, or...
No. There was no way it was both of them. Because that was what I’d been fantasizing about, and getting it would either be too much of a coincidence, or a cruelty when it went badly.
