43
“Do I look okay?” I ask, barging my way into Ash’s room without invitation. She’s lying on her stomach on the bed with a pen between her teeth and a book opened in front of her. I’m frazzled over my impending date with Dillon and seriously considering canceling it. I need my Irish bestie to talk me off the ledge.
“You look perfect,” she says, “though you might want to put your hair up.” Her lips twitch, and I narrow my eyes.
“You know where he’s taking me?”
“I do.” She makes a zipping motion with her finger. “Don’t bother asking. These lips are sealed.”
All I know is it’s an afternoon date, and I’m guessing it’s outdoors since Dillon told me to dress warm. “Is it normal to feel physically ill?” I flop down on my back beside her on the bed.
She chuckles. “You’d swear you were never on a date before.”
I roll over onto my side, facing her. “Not like this.”
Genuine curiosity sweeps over her face. “You didn’t get nervous going on dates with Reeve?”
“I did, but it was different. He was my best friend, and I’d known him my whole life. It was more of an excited kind of anticipation. I don’t remember my stomach pitching, my hands sweating, or my heart galloping so fast it feels like I’m on the verge of a coronary. What if I throw up on him?”
She roars out laughing. “You’re too funny.” Seeing my glare, she tries to rein in her mirth. “You’ll be fine. Dillon will put you at ease.” She pats my arm.
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t you know your brother at all? I’ll probably want to poke his eyeballs out in less than a minute.”
“That’s all part of the attraction.” She sits up, cross-legged. “I have a really good feeling about you two.” Her eyes glimmer mischievously. “Imagine you end up getting married!” She squeals, bouncing on the bed. “Then we’d be sisters for real!”
“Aisling Margaret O’Donoghue,” I shriek, whacking her in the chest. “You’re not helping with the no-puking situation!”
“I’m sorry.” She’s trying not to laugh.
“No, you’re not.” I pout.
“No, I’m not,” she agrees, scooting across the bed when I reach to whack her again. “I let my mind run away with me sometimes, but I’m just excited. You two looked so cozy last weekend, and Ro said Dillon’s been writing up a storm all week, which is a sure sign he’s feeling shit.”
“And Ro is really okay with it?”
She bobs her head. “He’s fine. I told you he would be. He’s officially seeing Zara now.”
“Wow. He’s a fast worker.”
“Told ya. Relax. It’s all good. There won’t be any need for pistols at dawn.”
“You’re so weird.” I shake my head, grinning.
“But you love me anyway.”
I throw myself at her, hugging her tight. “I do. Thank you. I needed that pep talk.”
“Just relax and enjoy yourself. Hopefully, my brother won’t irritate you too much!”
* * *
“I am not getting on that thing,” I say, setting foot on the sidewalk outside my building and stalking toward the curb to my date. I plant my hands on my hips and glare at Dillon. He’s slouched against the side of his motorcycle, wearing a leather jacket, black jeans, and his usual smirk.
“Scared, Hollywood?” he teases, unfurling to his full height.
“Straight up.”
He moves in close to me, looking hotter than any man has a right to. His fingers curl around my chin. “I thought we agreed we’d be scared together. Hmm?”