Page 8 of Her Trick His Treat

“Sorry,” I muttered, cheeks burning with embarrassment as I tried to slide across the vinyl seat to exit.

“No worries, miss, and for the record, you look good. Have fun in there,” the older man said and winked.

My blush burned even brighter as Harry, my driver, gave me a little wave. He’d spent the first five minutes of the drive talking about his grandkids and seemed harmless enough.

Shit.

Jan wouldn’t recognize me. I mean, I didn’t recognize myself. But maybe that was a good thing, right?

Maybe for tonight I could reinvent myself. I could pretend to be someone who oozed sexuality and confidence.

I could pretend to be a woman whose longest and most satisfying sexual relationship wasn’t with her vibrator.

Oh God. This wasn’t going to work.

The one time I’d actually tried to have sex was with my local barista and the guy had a problem with,er, coming early to the party.

Yep, premature ejaculation was real, and it was disappointing for all.

My stomach was in knots as I stood with my hand on the doorknob. Someone pulled it open, and I almost stumbled as a giant wearing a Pennywise costume steadied me.

“Easy there, hot stuff. Grrrr,” he growled and chuckled before stalking off and waving his plastic knife in the air.

Hot stuff? Me?

Music was blasting inside, nothing I recognized, but I didn’t care. I was still trying to come to terms with the fact some stranger called me hot stuff.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the bar and holy shit. He was right. I did look hot.

I mean, for me, I did.

No more virginal nerd girl.

Tonight I was whoever I wanted to be.

And I wanted to be a sex kitten.

Imagine my surprise when I donned that persona and found it fit me like a glove. I bit my lip. My right hand was on the bar as I surveyed the crowd.

A man walked up to me wearing a pair of wolf ears, the kind I saw teenagers wear at Renn Faires and what not. He was not the least bit attractive. But he’d noticed me, and that was a first.

I couldn’t hear him over the blasting music, but it didn’t matter. I had no interest in anything he had to say. My gaze was suddenly caught by a huge man wearing a terrifying skull mask over his face.

He was enormous. Easily six foot four, with shoulders so broad they seemed to stretch the fabric of his black shirt to its limits, looking like he’d have to walk sideways to fit through a standard doorframe.

Tattoos trailed down his arms, covering his hands in wicked cool designs, but I couldn’t make out the detail at this distance. I wondered how far they went. Was he inked up everywhere?

The thought made warmth spread through me and had me sucking in air like I’d just finished working out.

He looked like he was headed my way, and a wave of disbelief washed over me. Guys like that never noticed me.

I was the girl who blended into the wallpaper. The kind of person who stayed in the background.

A wallflower. Awkward and unused to the bright, vibrant world of social interaction.

But there was something about the way he moved that kept my eyes riveted to him. He had such confidence. It oozed from his pores.

He commanded attention, and I noticed more than one set of eyes watching him prowl forward like some primal beast.