Page 69 of Bad Boy Crush
“They’re here.”
“Here?”
“In Southampton. I knew I shouldn’t have put that photo on Instagram. She saw it and invited us to come over for a cocktail party tonight.” She showed him the text. He held up a hand, so she read it to him. “‘I didn’t know you were in New York. We’re at the beach house this week. Cocktail party at eight tonight. Dress to impress.’”
She planted her face in the lounger and groaned into the pillow. “Don’t wanna go.”
“How bad could it be?”
She lifted her head. “Will you go with me?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“Pass.”
“Ant! It’s like, forty minutes away. I don’t want to drive that far alone. In the dark. After a few cocktails.” She craned her eyebrows, hoping her laying it on thick was working.
He let out a sigh. “Better not be formal.”
“You don’t have to wear a tuxedo. Do you have a dressy pair of shorts?”
“Have we met?”
“There are stores nearby that—”
“Absolutely not.”
“Come on.” She stood and grabbed her beach bag. “I’ll go through your clothes for you. Maybe one of the outfits you packed will pass muster.”
* * *
Ant had narrowly avoided being dragged to a swanky shop for new shorts for the party at Lou’s parents’ beach house. Lou had sent her mother a text telling her she’d only packed casual attire, as had her “guest.” Her mother, Toni, had been excited to hear about her “guest” and had assured Lou that beach attire would be acceptable.
He drove while Lou applied another sticky layer of lip gloss to which he complained, “I prefer your mouth naked.”
“You prefer all of me naked.” She gave him a saucy wink. “Just like I prefer you.”
“You can’t say that while I’m driving,” he scolded after she instructed him to turn right at the four-way stop. “What if I wreck the truck? Or pull off onto the shoulder and kiss that lipstick off your mouth? Or haul that skirt up over your thighs and bury my face in your lap?”
“Don’t tempt me to take you up on that. There will be hell to pay if we’re late.”
He shrugged. “Your call.”
She clucked her tongue, but regret wafted off her like perfume. He liked that she wanted him. It was a good sign for their future. Ten minutes and a few turns later, they arrived at her parents’ beach house.
The place wasn’t quite as big as Alessandre D’Paolo’s house but by no means could it be considered “small.” There were several luxury cars parked in the driveway. He instantly regretted not washing his truck before they left.
“Good lord, she invited the entire neighborhood,” Lou said. “I owe you for this.”
“You sure as shit do. I’ll take my payment in sexual favors.”
She ran her fingers through his hair—hair she’d styled. He felt naked without his fedora, but she’d asked him to leave it behind, so he had.
She looked the part of the wealthy woman in her heeled sandals and a blue floral dress. Ant, in pale khaki shorts and a white button-down short-sleeved shirt, was passably appropriate. He rolled his shoulders, already feeling out of place.
Someone who wasn’t her parents answered the door. The thirty-something woman dressed in black must’ve been staff of some sort. He dipped his chin instead of saying hello. He followed Lou through the house to the back patio. On the way, she snagged a glass of pink wine off a tray. He was offered a mixed drink on a tray with a sprig of rosemary sticking out of the glass. He accepted and took a hearty swallow before they stepped outside.