I was frozen to the spot. Mostly because it hit me that this was the kind of shit she did when she was alone. She’d spent the morning taking the piss out of me for singing Ed Sheeran in the shower, and here she was, singing Backstreet Boys while mopping the floor.
This was the best thing I’d ever seen.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and set the camera to record. She had no idea I was here because she was blasting the music so loudly.
Oh, my fuck. She was performing a concert. This was the best thing I’d ever seen.
Screw her showing my baby pictures at my wedding.
This video was going online on her thirtieth birthday.
Or her wedding—whichever happened first. Not that I’d let her marry anyone but me, but whatever. That was moot right now.
Because the song was now fucking “MMMbop.”
She continued on singing like she didn’t have an audience. I guess in her mind, she didn’t.
I loved that she apparently listened to nineties boyband pop while she cleaned alone.
I pushed the door open, stopped the video, and quietly walked over to her. The second the chorus kicked in, I grabbed her hips and pulled her against me, humming into her ear.
Shelby screamed, jumping away from me. She brandished the mop as a weapon while I laughed my fucking ass off.
“Oh, my God!” She shoved the mop at me, going to hit me with it. “You gave me a heart attack!”
“Turn the elementary school disco down then!”
She grabbed her phone from the island and turned the music down. “There.” She scowled. “Better?”
“Yeah.” I grinned. “Is this how you clean when I’m not here?”
Her cheeks blazed. “No comment.”
Hell, I wanted to scoot forward and kiss her. “I want to tease you, but I won’t. We’re on borrowed time.”
“We are?” She gripped the mop with both hands. “Why? Has Planet Earth been invaded by aliens with three penises?”
“What the hell are you ghostwriting?”
“You don’t want to know.” She shook her head. “Well? Has it?”
“Not to my knowledge.” I dumped my bag by the door. “But tonight is our first date.”
Shelby’s eyebrows shot up. “It is?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You move fast.”
“You have no idea.” I wiggled my brows for emphasis.
Her cheeks flushed a fresh shade of pink. “All right, where are we going?”
“Your parents’ bar.”
“What?” The mop clattered to the floor. “Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind? Who wants their first date with their best friend in front of their parents?”
I held up my hands and darted behind the island to put some distance between us. “I told your dad. He’s breaking it to your mom, but I think she already knew I liked you.”
Shelby grunted, glaring at me.
“It’s Friday night. I don’t have to work tomorrow. It’ll be busy. I have it planned out. C’mon.” I gave her my best effort at puppy dog eyes.
It backfired.
She laughed instead of giving in. “There are hungry wolves who could look more innocent than that!”
“Come on. It’ll be fun. I swear.”
“You’re paying all night,” she warned me, since her parents didn’t usually charge us when we were all together.
“Your dad already knows. He’s opened a tab and whatever you want is on me.”
She studied me for a second. “I’m not okay with this.”
“You will be by the time we’re done.” My lips tugged to one side. “I promise. You’ll laugh your ass off the entire time.”
“I don’t think I trust you, Jay Cooper.”
“You don’t have to trust me. You just have to pretend you do.” My tiny smile became a full-fledged grin, and though she fought her own smile, she eventually broke.
“Screw you!” She laughed, bending over to pick up the mop. “If my parents say anything—”
“They won’t.” I figured I was safe to come out from behind the island and approached her. She looked beautiful without her makeup, and I cupped her chin with my right hand. “Your parents’ bar, eight-fifteen. Got it?”
She thrust the mop at me. “Got it. Finish this, would you? I have a hot date to get ready for.”
She turned on her heel, stalking off toward the bathroom, and I laughed as I watched her go.
Maybe this wouldn’t be the disaster I was afraid it would be.
Because let’s be honest—it wasn’t my best idea. Taking her to her parents’ bar could go one of two ways, and if I hadn’t caught her dad earlier and told him I was taking her out—much to his delight—I wouldn’t be daring this so soon.
Fact was, I wanted her.
I wanted this date to happen as soon as possible. I wanted her as soon as possible—I wanted to redefine the parameters of our relationship, to go further than stupid make-out sessions.
I wanted more.
I wanted her. I wanted to be hers, even if she had yelled at me before I left because I’d left a pan soaking in the sink and it’d turned the water grimy and I hadn’t emptied it out.