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We’re halfway to her house when it starts to rain. We are both soaked and freezing by the time we get there. Lauren opens the garage door and there is just enough room to squeeze the bike in. I hate when my baby gets rained on.
“Come in,” she says through chattering teeth. “You can hang out until the rain stops.”
For as long as I’ve known Lauren, walking into her house doesn’t feel strange. What feels strange is taking someone home from the bar and not getting any.
She’s Colin’s baby sister. I can’t do this.
Her dogs bark at me, and I almost run back into the rain when a large German Shepherd lunges for me. I’ve actually met the dog before, having gone to a few family get-togethers at the Winters’ house.
“Hey, Vader,” I say to him.
He barks and flashes his teeth. “It’s okay,” Lauren says, holding him back. How the hell is she not falling over? That dog has to weigh close to what she does. It takes several minutes of talking to the dog to get him to let me in the house.
When Lauren lets him go and stands, she closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I’m a bit dizzy.”
I reach out, steadying her. “How about you take those heels off?”
“Good idea.” She kicks them off and disappears into her room, returning in a minute in her pajamas. “I don’t have any guy clothes for you to wear.”
I take off my jacket and peel my wet black T-shirt over my head. “Do you have a dryer?”
Her eyes widen when I undo my belt and pull down the zipper of my jeans. “I … uhh … I.” She blinks a few times. “Yes. I do.” She holds out her hand for my wet clothes, shaking her head as she walks away. I smirk, somewhat surprised I got that kind of reaction out of her.
Fuck. Stop it. I can’t. She’s off-limits. My best friend’s sister.
I follow her as she walks through the living room and into the kitchen, disappearing into the laundry room. I open the fridge and look for something to eat. I’m hungry, and Lauren probably is too. Her fridge is full, but it’s all ingredients, all healthy stuff. I don’t want to make anything. I close the fridge and open the freezer.
There is one frozen pizza, buried underneath more healthy crap … and a bottle of tequila. I pull it out, grinning.
“For someone who claims not to drink,” I start when she comes back into the kitchen. “This is an awfully big bottle of booze.”
She waves her hand in the air. “I didn’t say I don’t drink, I just don’t like the way alcohol tastes. And it’s from a sex toy party. Months ago.”
My eyebrows go up. “You had a sex toy party?”
“Yeah, why is that so surprising.”
I step back and let the freezer door close. “You just don’t seem like the type who would.”
“You’re typing me?”
“It’s hard not to, after knowing you for so long.”
She crosses the kitchen and leans against the counter next to me. Her arms cross and she tips her head. “So, tell me what type I am.”
I give her a good look over. Her wet hair is brushed and pulled into a ponytail. She removed her rain-smeared makeup and is comfortably dressed in a tank top and pajama pants … which I think are patterned with Disney princesses. She took off her bra and I can just make out the outline of her nipples.
No, stop it. Off-limits, remember?
“You’re a bit uptight. Maybe a little prude-ish. Definitely not the type who’d have sex toy parties … or even buy sex toys. You don’t like to get in trouble or do anything you think is wrong. And really, that means what you think others think.” I set the bottle of tequila down. “Actually, that’s your whole issue.”
“Oh, I have issues now?”
I nod. “Yeah. You’re so worried about what other people think of you, you forget to live your own life.”
Her eyes narrow. “My own life is fine, thank you very much. I’m happy, I work hard, and I’m headed in the right direction.”
“And you give that answer to everyone, right? You don’t have to be perfect all the time, you know.”
