“Ready to go?” her friend asked.
“Yep.” Serena turned to the woman who’d been so patient with them and gave her a small wave. “Thank you for your time.”
“Sure thing,” th
e saleswoman said cheerfully. “Enjoy your dress and shoes.”
Wait . . . what? Just outside the store, Serena came to an abrupt halt as the other woman’s words sank in. Then she glanced down and saw a new bag added to the others that Chelsea had been holding prior to them entering the shop.
Her jaw nearly dropped to the ground. “Oh my God, tell me you did not just buy that outfit!”
Chelsea blinked at her much too innocently. “Of course I didn’t . . . Dylan did.”
“Dylan?” Serena glanced around, expecting to see her best guy friend lurking nearby, but he was nowhere to be found. In fact, this was about the time he was supposed to be getting ready for his important business meeting. “He’s not even here. How is that possible?”
Now, Chelsea looked a little impish. “He gave me his credit card after we landed at the airport, when you were in the restroom, and told me to make sure you bought yourself something fun and Vegas appropriate to wear tonight. I think we accomplished that task, don’t you?”
“I don’t think Dylan was anticipating spending what those two items cost.” She ran her fingers through her hair, her stomach cramping at how much Chelsea had just spent. “It’s ridiculous and I need to take them back.”
“You will do no such thing.” Chelsea walked to a nearby bench and sat on one side while unburdening her hands of all the shopping bags she was hauling around. “Sit down.”
Serena frowned at her friend but settled in for their disagreement. Before she could say anything, Chelsea spoke.
“Look, Dylan said you’d be stubborn about it, so no big shock there. And I figured making the purchase on the sly was the easiest way to achieve the goal without having an argument between us in the store in front of people. He wanted to do this for you, and he said if it made you feel any better, you could consider it your birthday present.”
Serena arched a dubious brow. “My birthday isn’t for another four months.”
“Eh, it’s all a matter of semantics,” Chelsea refuted with a shrug. “It’s a gift that Dylan wanted to give to you, so just embrace it instead of being so resistant.”
Serena exhaled a deep breath and forced her stiff shoulders to relax. On one hand, she was touched that Dylan wanted to do something so sweet, but there was that part of her that thought about his ex-girlfriend, Brandy, and how she’d taken advantage of what was in Dylan’s bank account to offset the fact that he hadn’t given her the emotional attention she’d craved. Serena wasn’t that kind of girl, and never would be, but it was also difficult for her to accept such a luxurious, expensive gift for no reason at all—because she certainly didn’t believe his excuse about buying it for her birthday.
Chelsea put her hand on Serena’s arm, bringing her back to their conversation. “I say you wear the outfit and enjoy the sexy, confident way it makes you feel. You deserve that after . . . well, the whole debacle with Ashton,” she said with a cringe, since she’d been partially responsible for introducing her to the guy. “Let’s meet Dylan and Eric for dinner, then go to the nightclub and live it up for the evening, because I can guarantee that one look and guys are going to flock to you. And even better, you can show Dylan what he’s missing out on.”
Serena laughed derisively at that, because Chelsea knew all about her unrequited love for Dylan. “You can’t miss what you’ve never wanted,” she said of his platonic feelings for her.
A knowing smile curved Chelsea’s lips. “Trust me. He’s a guy with a dick. And best friend zone or not, he’s going to notice your perky boobs and firm ass in that dress. He’d have to be dead or impotent not to, and I really don’t think he’s either,” she teased.
“Whatever.” Serena waved a hand between them, dismissing that possibility when she’d never seen Dylan look at her with anything more than affection. She just didn’t inspire desire, lust, or passion when it came to him . . . except in her own fantasies.
“Okay, you win,” she said, because she clearly wasn’t going to get the upper hand in this difference of opinion. “I’ll wear the outfit and solemnly swear that I’ll have a good time while doing it.”
Chelsea beamed triumphantly. “I knew you’d see things my way. Now let’s head back to the hotel and enjoy a few spa treatments before we meet the boys for dinner.”
5
“Damn, I could get used to this VIP treatment.”
Dylan had to agree with Eric as he leaned back in his leather chair and glanced out the floor-to-ceiling window next to him that offered a spectacular view of the Las Vegas strip. The two of them had just been seated in a private area of the five-star restaurant located on the fortieth floor of the Sapphire Casino and Hotel, where an expensive bottle of champagne was already chilling in a silver ice bucket—to celebrate the contract he’d just signed with the company, the hostess informed him before leaving them with their menus.
His meeting with the marketing manager had gone exceptionally well, and Dylan was excited to get back to San Diego, work out the last of the glitches on the Boyfriend Experience app that was frustrating the hell out of him, while starting on the framework for the Sapphire Casino and Hotel app, which was most likely going to take a few months to complete since it was such a large and intricate job.
As they waited for Serena and Chelsea to arrive, Dylan returned his gaze to Eric, trying once again to persuade him to be a guinea pig for his current project. “So, what’s it going to take to convince you to be one of the beta testers for the Boyfriend Experience? I really need someone I trust giving me reliable feedback on the app before it’s released to the public, and since you’re single and available, you’re the perfect guy for the job.”
“How about a million dollars?” Eric said, his tone completely serious before his face broke out with a grin. “Oh, wait, I don’t need the money, or anything else for that matter. I’m telling you, there is no bribe large enough that would entice me to sign on to a dating app when I do just fine on my own.”
“It’s not a normal social app like Bumble or Tinder,” he corrected Eric, and not for the first time. “It’s not about hooking up and getting laid, but rather standing in as boyfriend material for a woman who needs a short-term date.”
“No sex?” Eric shook his head, as if the concept was foreign to him. “Then what’s the point? Why would I want to risk ending up with some fatal attraction kind of date, with no guaranteed payout?”