CHAPTER 13
Declan
I answer the door. I don’t recognize her at first.
And that makes me really angry.
I stare at Summer. I think my mouth is unhinged.
“You gonna let me in, or what?” she snarls.
“Yes. Of course. Please.” I fling open the door to the suite and gesture for her to step inside. And then I watch her walk past me. She’s long, lean, and luscious. I’ve never seen her like this. I’ve never imagined she could look like this. What am I supposed to do with this development?
This is the last thing I need. I was barely hanging on before this happened.
I’m angry. At myself. At her. We’ve been so stupid.
Summer spins around. Her dark hair swings over her shoulder in a shiny wave. Her blue-gray gaze locks on mine.
I feel tears sting my eyes. Actual tears. Of anger. And something else I refuse to name. I blink furiously to stop them.
Ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous. It’s still Summer. She’s still the same person, only in a dress and makeup, with her hair all glossy and smooth and her skin all peachy and velvety and...
Oh, shit.
Ridiculous. I’m ridiculous.
But come on!
Why did she have to pick that dress, black and silky and leaving little to the imagination. The kind of dress that slips over every curve and valley of her shape. A dress that makes me want to brush my fingertips over her hip and down her thigh.
And why that makeup? It’s tasteful and elegant, but what’s the point?
All it does is accentuate her already outrageous beauty and bring out the perfect shape of her face, the fullness of her lips, and the ocean-blue gray of her eyes.
There was absolutely no reason she needed to go and do that to herself with makeup.
Now everyone will see how beautiful she is.
And why did she have to do that to her hair? It was already perfect, flying behind her as she gallops through the east pasture. But now there’s a shimmer I’ve never seen before. It’s got me imagining how the satiny strands would feel slipping through my spread fingers.
Why did Summer go and do all this shit to herself?
To me?
She’s always been flawless in my eyes. This is too much. It flattens me. Leaves me breathless.
Which brings me right back to how angry I am.
Fuck! Get it together, Declan. Don’t be a pussy.
She frowns at me. “Are you alright? Did the onion rings catch up with you?”
“Yes. I’m a total wreck. From the onion rings.” I’ve never felt so out of sorts around Summer before. If the barbecue sauce thing was awkward, what should I call this? An existential crisis? I swallow. “You look real nice,” I manage.
Then I take a step closer. I lean in to kiss her cheek, but she moves without warning, and my lips lightly caress the corner of her mouth. That was a mistake. I was aiming for her cheek, but she moved. I should probably tell her that it wasn’t intentional.
Oh, shit. Why did she have to move? What have I done?
Her scent lingers in my nose. It’s subtle and sensual, traveling up through my nostrils and penetrating the center of my lizard brain.
Fuck. I want her so badly.
“You better not have messed up her makeup!” Bryttni screeches.
“You look real nice, too,” I tell my date for the evening. The date I still have for the evening. Bryttni smiles and steps into the sitting room.
“Thank you,” she says, giggling.
It’s absolutely true that Bryttni looks real nice.
It’s not true that Summer looks real nice.
Those words aren’t sufficient for Summer. If I were being perfectly honest, I’d say she’s sleek and sexy. A work of art. As radiant as a Hollywood starlet from the 1940s. The most delicious woman I’ve ever encountered in the flesh.
I’d have to say that my best friend is stunning, exquisite, regal, and a complete shock to my system.
Summer’s on fire.
And I’m on fire for her.
That’s what I would say if I were being perfectly honest with myself.
But I can’t do that! I know I told myself I should be, but I just can’t go there.
What kind of crazy, messed-up disaster would come from telling the truth to myself? I can’t do that to my friendship with Summer. I can’t look at my favorite girl in the whole world and think I’ll shrivel up and die if I can’t touch her. Taste her. Feel her skin on mine.
Bury myself to the hilt inside her.
This is wrong. All wrong. I’ve known her too long and loved her too much to go and do something as spectacularly stupid as deciding to be honest with myself!
And her.
Bryttni goes into one of the suite’s bathrooms to adjust her makeup, leaving Summer and me alone in the living room.
I try not to stare. I fail. I let my gaze travel down the front of her flawless body to where the hem of her long silk dress grazes her strappy heels.
Her toenails are painted a light pink, and I check out her hands.
Her fingernails are the same delicate pink. I’ve never seen her nails painted.
What did she do to her hands? They look creamy and feminine.
Summer brushes her long, lustrous hair off her shoulder, and now all I can see is her cleavage.
“You must be cold,” I say. All right, I’m recovering. I’m doing fine. That’s the kind of friendly and helpful suggestion that a platonic friend might make. Perfectly normal.
“It’s Las Vegas, Declan. Nothing here is cold, even in the winter.”
“You should probably wear a sweater.”
“I don’t have a sweater.”
“But…” I’m about to point to her bare chest but stop myself. That would be rude. So, I reach out in her general direction with a floppy hand and make random circles in the air. “You’re not covered.”
Bryttni pokes her head out of the bathroom to shout, “They’re called boobs, Declan! And if you promise to be good, I’ll give you a lesson on all the wonderful things boobs can do for a man!”
She sends me an air kiss, giggles again, and resumes whatever she’s doing in front of the mirror.
Summer isn’t making eye contact with me. It looks almost as if she doesn’t know what to do with her hands, which is crazy because I’ve seen her do damn near everything with those capable hands.
Repair fence wire. Train a wild stallion. Castrate a cranky bull calf. But I’m right—in this situation, she doesn’t know what to do with her soft, pink hands.
I have some ideas. Plus, I know exactly what I want to do with my hands. And now I’ve revved myself up into anger again.
She’s squirming, and I feel guilty for making Summer so uncomfortable.
Hell, we’re both uncomfortable. I can’t remember a time when we became so completely dazed with discomfort like this.
The barbecue sauce incident was just a warmup compared to this level of numbness.
And it’s all because she’s too beautiful and too much of her skin is showing.
Which is a stupid-crazy thing for me to think.
I’ve seen Summer in a bikini hundreds of times.
And sure, I sometimes get taken aback at how amazing her body is, but it’s never made things weird between us.
Maybe that’s because Summer’s bikini serves a purpose.
She wears it to raft or kayak down the river.
To jump off the dock into the lake. To lounge in the hot springs or hose down a sweaty horse.
There’s no purpose for this dress, with its barely there shoulder straps, its high slit to the thigh, and its low vee neckline. The only reason dresses like this one exist in the world is to get men to stare and think, oh, holy shit—she’s a knockout.
Dresses like this are supposed to make men like me lose their fucking minds.
Nailed it!
Summer stops squirming. She suddenly glares at me, her mouth hitched in a smirk. She straightens, lifts her chin, and pulls back her shoulders.
“Boobs, Declan,” she says. “Say hello to my boobs. I have two of them. I’ve always had them, and here they are again, my two boobs, but in a dress. Deal with it.”
“Whatever,” I grumble.
“Kirk is probably waiting for us at the restaurant,” Bryttni points out.
“Kirk?”
I completely forgot about Kirk the Jerk. Kirk’s… a man. That means Kirk will have a similar reaction to the sight of Summer in this dress. He’ll see every dip and swell of her body. He’ll see her shiny hair and her pretty lips and her pink nails.
Kirk’s going to see her boobs. Both of them. In a dress. How is that acceptable?
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I say.
“You’re not backing out!” Bryttni shrieks and stomps her foot. “Do you understand the amount of effort that was required for Summer’s makeover? I’ve never spent so much money in such a short time in my life! And how about me, Declan? It’s New Year’s Eve. You will not screw this up for me!”
I glance over at Summer. I’ll do anything to protect her, even if she hates me for it. Which means I’ll have to protect her from Kirk.
Summer grins at me. It’s almost as if she’s enjoying having a front-row seat to my breakdown. “Yeah, what Bryttni said, Declan. Don’t screw this up for me.”
“Fine.” I hold the door for both women. “Let’s go see Kirk. And let’s go get Declan a big, fat drink.”