Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I don’t care what Ian said about liking my overalls. I want to feel confident and sexy tonight.
Tonight, I’m not animals-in-teacups and baggy-overalls Evie. Tonight, I’m the woman who drew that sexy-as-hell picture and who was bold enough to set this plan in motion in the first place.
Tonight, I am Brave New Evie and by tomorrow…
By tomorrow I might not be a virgin anymore, a prospect so momentous I tell myself it’s okay to get to the bottom of the Harlow and Derrick mystery later.
Tonight is for me and Ian and a whole world of sexy new possibilities.
Chapter 18
Ian
I pace back and forth across my living room, torn between excitement and dread. I’m eager to see Evie again—to touch her, taste her, and see if my hunch about her knowing far more than she thinks she knows about sex is correct.
She’s just innately sexy, so much so that I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before.
Hell, just the way she drags a French fry through ketchup and pops it into her mouth makes my pants tighter. The way she tucks the rogue curl on her right side behind her ear, the way her eyes dance with mischief when she smiles, the way her voice goes soft and husky when she talks about wanting to draw me—any one of those things alone would be enough to turn me on.
Altogether, they’re enough to make me positive she doesn’t need these practice sessions. She just needs to find a partner she can trust.
If I were a good friend, I would help her find that guy instead of taking advantage of her belief that I’m the only man she can be at ease with.
I almost text her as much a dozen times, but I don’t, and when the buzzer sounds a few minutes before seven, I don’t hesitate to punch the button and say, “Come on up.”
I don’t ask who it is—I’m not expecting anyone except Evie and the timing is right. She said she’d be here by seven. But when I open the door a minute later and glance toward the elevators, it isn’t Evie who steps out onto the tightly woven gray carpet in the hall.
It’s…Whitney.
The greeting on the tip of my tongue fades away as I scramble to think of a way to get rid of my ex before Evie arrives. Whitney is a gossip hound to the core of her delicate bones, and she’s still friends with the girlfriends of several guys on the team. If she sees Evie show up to my place at this time of night, she’s going to get suspicious. She was already jealous of Evie. Seeing her here will all but ensure a rumor that Evie and I are hooking up starts circulating by tomorrow morning.
Thinking fast, I start coughing. Hard.
Whitney’s steps slow as she lifts a hand to hover in front of her face. She’s also a germaphobe and once bailed on me halfway through a meal at a fancy restaurant because I cleared my throat one time too many.
“Sorry, I thought you were the pharmacy delivery,” I say in a deliberately rough, scratchy voice. “I think I have a little end-of-summer cold. But I’d love to talk later if you want. Could I call you tomorrow? Or maybe this weekend, if I’m better by then? I just—” I break off in a tortured round of hacking, squeezing my eyes shut as I pretend to struggle to regain control.
When I finally wheeze in a breath and open my eyes, Whitney is back by the elevator, furiously punching the down button with her knuckle. “I just came by to get the rest of my things, but fine. I’ll text you later and you can bring them by my work or something.”
Trying not to let my relief show, I nod. “Of course. Will do. Maybe during your lunch break?” I ask, regret swirling through me.
I’m not sad that it’s over between us—it should have been over a long time ago—but Whitney and I have been close for a long time. I don’t want to lose that, not if there’s any chance that we can still salvage what was good about our relationship. “I could take you for salads at the place you like, and we could talk. I’d really like to be friends, Whit. How will I know how to dress myself without you?”
She sniffs and lifts her nose higher in the air. “You’ll do just fine. Just ask a salesgirl. Or your new girlfriend.”
“I don’t have a new girlfriend,” I say. “We just broke up last weekend. I’m not ready to start anything new.”
I’m not, which is just another reason I should call this off with Evie before it’s too late. No matter how many times she assures me she’s down for a low-key, friends-with-benefits situation, my gut insists I’d be a fool to believe that and an asshole to take advantage of her innocence about things like this.