“And that’s my cue to leave,” I announce. “Come find me when you’re ready.”
I leave Allie to fawn over Summer’s closet, and go to my own room to get dressed. Which takes all of five minutes. I throw on a gray sweater and the same trousers I wore last night, then lie on my bed watching YouTube videos on my phone while I wait for Allie. Somewhere at the twenty-minute mark, she pops into the room in a blur of designer black, grabs a small makeup kit from her purse, and disappears into my bathroom.
“Oh hey!” she calls a few minutes later. Her head pokes out from behind the doorway. “My friend Dillon just texted. She got in last night and she wants to meet up. Her boyfriend’s here too. Can I invite them to the club?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
My phone buzzes, and I shut off YouTube so I can access my messages.
Logan: Just found the perfect xmas present for you in Boston.
A photo promptly appears, summoning a loud groan from my throat. The asshole sent me a pic of a novelty My Little Pony dildo. Damn thing is bright pink, with rainbow sparkles on the handle.
Logan: And it’s rechargeable! U don’t have to buy batteries. THAT’S handy!
Me: Hardy-har-har. You = comedian.
Then I message Grace: Tell your BF to stop being mean to me.
She texts back a smiley face. Traitor.
“I’m ready.”
My head snaps up, and holy hell, I forget how to breathe for a moment. Man, she should consider ditching acting and becoming a makeup artist, because this girl has the ability to completely transform depending on what she does to her face. Just when I got used to thinking of her as the girl-next-door type, with her subtle makeup and shiny lip glosses, she suddenly showed up at Malone’s looking like a wet dream come to life, with big smoky eyes and pouty crimson lips.
Tonight it’s a combination of the two—natural with a splash of glamour. Nude lips, shimmery gold eye shadow, and mascara that makes her lashes appear impossibly long.
“How do I look?” She plants a hand on her hip and does a sexy pose.
“Ridiculously fuckable.” I hop off the bed and zero in on her, drawing her body toward mine as I bend down to give her a quick kiss. Her scent fills my nostrils. I breathe deeply, trying to identify it. Strawberries? Mangos? Roses? I can’t figure it out, but it’s goddamn addictive.
“What is it?”
I’m startled to find her frowning at me. “What do you mean?”
Her frown deepens. “You were staring at me.”
I was? Shit, I hadn’t even realized it. “Sorry, I must have spaced out.” I paste on a careless smile, doing my best to ignore the weird flutter in my stomach.
And the funny little shiver racing up my spine.
And the way my chest somehow feels both tight and light at the same time, which is as perplexing as Allie’s unnamable scent.
Swallowing, I force myself to ignore the paradox in my chest, and follow Allie’s sexy ass out the door.
23
Allie
I’m nervous about Beau Maxwell’s reaction to me and Dean showing up together, but it turns out to be unnecessary. Beau doesn’t even blink when Dean introduces me as “G’s GF’s BFF”. Maybe all the letters Dean threw out confused him? Either way, he just seems thrilled that we came out to the club at all.
Beau’s sister Joanna is equally overjoyed, throwing her arms around Dean. “Di Laurentis! Oh thank God you’re here. You don’t understand how close I’ve come to killing my idiot brother these past couple days.”
“Naah, you don’t want to kill me,” Beau says with a broad grin. “You love your little brother and you know it.”
Joanna gives him the finger, but she’s grinning too. She’s as attractive as Beau, tall and statuesque with sparkling blue eyes and dark hair cut in a short bob. Dean told me she currently has a small role in a Broadway show, which is the first thing I ask her about as we head inside after going through the line. By which I mean skipping it altogether, because one word in the bouncer’s ear from Dean and the velvet rope magically lifts for us.
Inside, the strobe lights are going strong and the music is deafening. Joanna and I need to scream our lungs out in order to continue our conversation. Dean and Beau, who were walking ahead of us, are immediately swallowed up by the frenzied mob.
“We lost the boys,” I shout in Joanna’s ear.
She shakes her head and points at the spiral staircase to our left. Sure enough, the guys are ascending the metal steps. Dean glances over his shoulder, finds us in the crowd, and gestures for us to follow them.
I discover that the staircase leads to the VIP area. We reach the top in time to hear Dean address the beefy bouncer manning the rope. “Dean Heyward,” he shouts. “Tony knows me.”
The bouncer touches the tiny Bluetooth tucked in his ear. His lips move, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. A second later, our little group saunters past yet another velvet rope.
Fortunately, the music isn’t as loud up here, so I don’t need to shriek like a banshee anymore. “Dean Heyward?” I tease. “Are we not using Di Laurentis anymore?”
He slings his arm around me, and the spicy scent of his aftershave infuses my senses, making me shiver. “Di Laurentis works better at country clubs or charity benefits. The Heyward name opens more doors in Manhattan.”
It sure does. Not only do we have access to the VIP lounge, but we’re given a spacious table by the wrought-iron railing that overlooks the dance floor. I take out my phone to check if Dillon texted—yep. She and her boyfriend will be here soon. I tell her to come upstairs when they arrive, then refocus on the conversation around me.
Joanna is teasing her brother about someone named Sabrina, but he’s insisting the relationship is over, which seems to upset his sister.
“You’re such an idiot. Seriously, Beau-Beau, you needed someone like her to keep you in line.”
Since Dean still has his arm around me, it’s impossible not to feel it when he stiffens. I study the hard set of his profile, and lightly squeeze his thigh. “You okay?”
“Ah, don’t mind him, sweetheart,” Beau says with a chuckle. “He always gets like this when the subject of Sabrina comes up. I think he’s still sulking that she snubbed him after they boned down.”
I’m not surprised to hear that Dean slept with this girl, whoever she is. What I am surprised about is my complete lack of jealousy.