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“I just realized I know who you are.” She beamed at Avery, who looked around uncertainly. “You’re a Haskins kid. Your daddy was my daddy’s favorite player back in the day. And I went to high school in Malibu a zillion years ago with your sister. She won’t remember me, of course, because I was a total nobody back then.”
“I’m sure she remembers you.” Avery’s voice was all earnest. “You’re pretty memorable.”
Yup. Hopeless crush incoming in three point seven seconds.
“Ah. You’re sweet.”
“This is the car.” I interrupted the mutual admiration fest. “I can stow your bags for you.”
“Oh, I can help.” She followed me right to the rear hatch. “I know I’m a terrible over-packer.” As soon as I opened the trunk, she let out a delighted gasp. “Oh! A Delectable bag!”
Fuck. I’d forgotten that was in the back. Tiffany peered down at the gorgeous eggplant-and-silver shopping bag holding our loot. Avery turned green, and I probably wasn’t much better. The store’s logo was discreet, but clearly, the packaging was recognizable to those in the know.
“I love that store.” Tiffany seemed oblivious to our distress, chattering on. “I visit the LA one all the time. My three best bras came from there. And my favorite vibe. Whoops. You probably didn’t need to know that.”
Avery made an inarticulate noise.
“Yep. Great store.” I quickly dumped Tiffany’s suitcases on top of the bag before she could pick it up.
“You must have a lucky girlfriend.” She winked at me as I hustled her into the back seat.
I slid behind the wheel as Avery hunkered down in the passenger seat.
“I am so boned,” he muttered in a low voice as Tiffany clicked around on her phone in the back seat. “What if she says something?”
“Play it cool.” I made it an order. “This is no big deal.”
I hoped, at least. And if anyone was boned, it was surely me who, despite everything, was still looking forward to being alone with Avery later.
Chapter Thirteen
Avery
My…uh…our purchases had disappeared, and I’d rather fall on a live grenade than go track Tiffany Monroe down to see if she ended up with our goods. I’d die before I got the question out. All I knew was that when I snuck back out to the rental car after dinner, the bag was nowhere to be seen. Then I’d been grabbed by Keely with a night-security question on my way back from the parking lot. I returned bagless and increasingly on edge to our room, which welcomed me with a chilly stillness. No Malik.
But in the center of the bed I’d claimed was the missing bag. And a note.
Rescued this for you. Don’t worry. No one saw. And if you want privacy to try things on, I’m walking the perimeter. Slowly.
Goddamn, why did Malik have to be so freaking nice? And now I felt practically obligated to try on at least one thing.
Not that I needed much of a push. The red panties mocked me from the top of the stack inside the bag. I couldn’t put something that delicate on, could I? I’d always liked pretty things, but boys weren’t supposed to be into that shit. I’d learned to put those urges on the shelf, not take them down. Other dudes tended to notice if a guy complimented flower arrangements or coveted a pink sweater.
So what? Malik’s voice echoed in my brain. Maybe his attitude was wearing off on me. He’d tell me those dudes were homophobic and that a guy could own or wear whatever the fuck he wanted.
Like panties.
Really fucking sexy red panties.
It would be rude to not even try them on. Malik had been devious, making them a present. I’d been raised to always be polite about gifts.
Oops. Definitely didn’t want to think about my family right then. And no way could I put panties so pretty on my cold and dusty body. Maybe if I took a shower I could put off deciding whether to actually put them on. Strange, though, how I just happened to bring the red panties into the bathroom.
My ability to manscape one-handed was limited, but the panties weren’t so skimpy as to need a ton of bush grooming. And they had a special silky pouch for my junk. All the little details had drawn me to them.
The whole time I showered, my pulse revved like I was in line for a rollercoaster and getting closer to my turn. My dick ached and my skin felt more alive with every pass of the soap. Hell, even my hair felt silkier under my fingers, and I took a rare moment to condition as well as shampoo. The water started to turn cool, chasing me out of the shower, but I took my time drying off, staring at the red panties on the sink counter the whole time.
