Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
With that in mind, I returned to my closet and slid on a royal-blue dress that I’d worn out with Tamara once and promptly never wore again because it was way too short and tight. I had a feeling he was going to veto this one. I knew I looked hot and was interested to see if I got the same reaction.
“Well?” I asked, doing a small twirl for him.
His jaw clenched, and then he slowly released a breath. But I didn’t miss the way he took me in from top to bottom, as if he were about to devour me whole.
“Not that one,” he managed to get out.
A small smile of triumph rippled through me. Well, well, well, maybe I wasn’t just his best friend’s little sister.
I returned to my room, reached farther back in my closet, and grabbed a red dress with a flowy skirt that I’d never worn. I always felt like it was a little too showy for weddings, which was where I wore most of my cocktail attire, but it felt just right for this. I grabbed black heels with little buckles across the top that made my short legs look so much longer.
“That one,” Weston said as soon as I entered the music room. He coughed into his hand and then nodded. “Yep, that one.”
I did a twirl for him, the layers of the skirt floating upward as I did so. “You like it?”
“I love it,” he muttered.
“All right. I’ll do my hair and makeup, and then we can go.”
An hour later, I slid the dress back onto my body and came out to find Weston already waiting for me. My jaw dropped, and I hastily recovered.
Weston Wright was dressed up in a white button-up, black dress slacks, a thick black belt, and dress shoes. I could hardly believe it. He was the perpetual ripped jeans and T-shirt guy. He drove a Subaru with over a hundred thousand miles. He let his hair grow out until it bothered him before a haircut. I hadn’t expected him to even own a suit. Let alone be able to fill it like a fucking god.
“Wow, West,” I muttered.
He grinned. “Figured if you were dressing nice, I should make an effort.”
“This is a little more than an effort.”
He held out the tie that he hadn’t yet tied around his neck. The white button-up was undone to the second button, and personally, I was a fan. “Still not used to this thing though.”
I slid the material between my fingers, dragging it out of his hand. “Eh, you don’t need it.”
“Well, that’s decided.”
His eyes traveled to where I now held his tie. Part of me wanted to say fuck the pretense and kiss him. He might find me attractive, but that didn’t mean he wanted to kiss me. It didn’t mean he wanted to complicate our roommate situation or betray Campbell. He felt a great obligation to my older brother, and I doubted he’d do anything to jeopardize their friendship.
So, I tossed the tie to the couch and smiled brilliantly up at him. This was my flirt coach. That was all it was. “Round two?”
He nodded. “Let’s go.”
We got into the Subaru and headed away from the house. When he veered away from downtown, I looked at him in confusion. “Where exactly are we going?”
“You don’t actually want to date frat bros. So, we’re going to need higher-end clientele.”
“And where would that be in Lubbock, Texas?” I asked skeptically. I’d dressed the part, but I hadn’t considered that we had nice enough bars for me to practice in.
“Manhattan 9.”
“I haven’t heard of it. How do you know about it?”
“Well, it’s a speakeasy, and they have live music on the weekends. I played piano there a few times when I first moved into town.”
“What? You didn’t tell me that.”
He shrugged. “It was sort of an escape. It was hard when I first moved here and Whitt and Harley were still in Seattle.”
I nodded in understanding. “So, I’m trying to get a guy to ask for my number again?”
“No, we’re past that. You were a natural, as I’d suspected.”
I laughed. “I was far from a natural.”
“Either way, you excelled. Did that guy call you after all?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Exactly. So, tonight, you’re going to try to meet a guy you can see yourself agreeing to go on a date with when he inevitably calls you. More than a drink or a phone number. If you hit it off, then you’ll spend the night hanging with him at the bar.”
I gulped. “That’s a big ask.”
“You’ll do fine.”
“What if he wants to go back to his place?”
Weston stiffened. “Look, only you can answer that question. If you want to go home with him, that’s on you.” His eyes cut to mine. “Do you have a condom?”
I sat frozen in place at that question. “What? No! That’s…that’s way too soon.”