Page 61 of I Think He Knows
Mindy: Want to watch one of Carter’s butt movies while we get ready for tonight, Annie?
Lana Mae: The ones you weren’t meant to tell anyone about, Min?
Mindy: Yup, one of those :) Luke is still trying to guess which famous Chris he was butt doubling for and I’m planning on leaving him guessing.
Annie: Absofreakinglutely I do. That way, we can be there in spirit.
Luke: I don’t know what the big deal is. I could’ve been a killer butt double if someone had asked me.
Annie:You sound jealous.
Mindy:Some may say…butt-hurt.
Luke:I am not butt-hurt!
Lana Mae:AndI am not honoring any of this with a response. Goodbye and talk to you all later.
Liam: Everyone except me, because I am blocking all of you.
*Liam has left the group chat*
Luke:Wow, what’s he so butt-hurt about?
I’m still laughing to myself as I wash my hair, and yes, shave my legs. Because while I’m a little mortified that Mindy noticed Carter’s hand on my leg the other night, she’s not wrong—it feltverycomfortable there. Felt like that was where it belonged, had always belonged, and should always stay.
I run a quick hand over my knees and ankles to check that I got all the stubble (you know, just in case). Then, I throw my wet hair up in a claw clip, put on my robe, and walk to my bedroom. I’m in the middle of studying my underwear collection, trying to decide what pair one might wear under fancy cocktail attire, when the doorbell rings.
I run downstairs, barefoot and damp, to find Anthony on my doorstep. Well, the top of Anthony’s head. The rest of his upper body is hidden behind the ton of garment bags piled high in his arms.
Whoa.
“Hey!” I throw open the door for him. “Can I grab some of those for you? There’s so many!”
“No, no, I’ve got it.” He steps inside. “Where shall we set up?”
“Living room,” I suggest. “Andwe?”
Anthony sets the dresses on the couch with a loud exhale and stretches his back. “Whew. Who knew dresses with so little coverage could be so heavy?”
“Little coverage?” I balk.
Ant laughs indulgently. “Let’s just say that we have a selection of options and not much time to choose. And bywe, I mean that hair and makeup will be here in an hour so chop chop”—he claps his hands—”grab the first bag and get to trying.”
“Wait.” I blink, feeling more than a little perplexed. “I thought I was doing my own hair and makeup.”
A satisfied little smile. “Not today, girlie. Your fiancé called me a few days ago and specifically told me to pull out all the stops. Bring all the dresses you—and I—could dream of, hire a whole team of people. Make you look, and more importantly,feellike a million bucks tonight.”
My heart stutters as Carter’s words from the morning of our Target trip dance through my brain.You are no less than entirely beautiful, all the time.
“Anthony,” I venture. “Did he happen to call you Wednesday around lunchtime?”
“He did,” Anthony confirms, and my smile is immediately a mile wide.
Carter James Callahan. What did I ever do to deserve him as a fake fiancé?
I grab the first garment bag, dash to my bedroom, and soon feel like I’m in a movie montage as I slip into a pink dress that’s cute, but too bright. This is followed by a black dress that looks sexy, sure, but whose neckline iswaytoo revealing for my own personal comfort level.
“Oh, come on,” Ant tuts when I come downstairs to show him the slinky black one. “Your boobs look great in that. Carter will love it.”