I jump out of the way just in time. I think. I hope.
God, I hope he didn't see me gawking.
He can't.
That's so...
I dart into my bedroom. Fumble out of my dress and into my pajamas.
A tank top. Panties. Sleep shorts.
That's it.
I'm barely wearing anything.
And he's there, barely wearing anything, thinking about me naked.
About to go on a fucking date.
I move back into the hallway. Nearly run downstairs.
A few moments later, Brendon walks through the main room. He grabs his keys from the table and slides them into the front pocket of his skinny jeans.
"Text me when you go to bed." He looks to Emma. "Or if you need anything."
She nods. "I won't wait up."
"You too, Kay. Text me if you need anything." He holds my gaze. Promise?
I'm pretty sure I can't request him naked in my bed. So I force my lips into a smile. "I'll be fine."
He takes that as a yes, turns, walks out the door.
On the way to his date.
With some girl.
Some girl who isn't me.
Chapter Thirteen
Brendon
This place is all squares—the stools, the tables, the couches, the patrons.
Candles flicker. The soft yellow lamp in the corner offers just enough illumination to make out the menu.
This place isn't my scene. It's hers. Upscale. Pretty. Filled with people in suits. The kind of people who gush over sauvignon blanc.
I don't get it. Wine tastes the same to me.
We're ten minutes into conversation, but I'm not absorbing any of it.
I'm thinking about that look on Kay's face. Like I stabbed her in the gut.
Anna's laugh grabs my attention.
She turns to show off the ink on her back. "It still looks good."