Veronica twists in her seat to look back at Malerie. “We should ask Emerson to help us. She would do it.”
I glance uneasily from Veronica to the road ahead. “Do what?”
“We have to rearrange the game room. Jelly Bean Queen is coming over to party after their concert this weekend and Collin had some furniture delivered. You have to help. Can you come in? Say yes.” Veronica puts her hands together in a prayer and raises both eyebrows. “Please?”
“Yeah, Emerson. You should.” Malerie grins into the rearview mirror. “You know you can arrange the room better than we can.”
I’m stunned. For one, Jelly Bean Queen is huge and successful. And the most popular band of the year. I knew they were a big client of Collin’s, but I can’t fathom that they have any kind of personal relationship with people I know.
Also, when Veronica said they were moving furniture around, my inner control freak flipped out. I am the head furniture mover even if it’s only when I’m vacuuming and cleaning.
“Okay. I’ll help.” I turn the car into the driveway. Several cars line the drive and I don’t recognize all of them. Dylan’s Porsche is the only one my gaze lingers on. I think about seeing him and my belly does a fluttery flip. He’s probably pissed since I avoided his calls all weekend.
The slam of a door draws my attention to the house. A willowy blonde steps onto the front porch and Dylan follows right behind her. They’re talking and laughing—totally into their conversation and each other.
She’s dressed in business clothes that I’d love to wear someday—a navy skirt of an acceptable length, nude-colored spiked heels, and a short feminine jacket. This girl could do magazine ads with her rail-thin figure and classic features. Sleek hair pulled back in a low ponytail.
I hate her immediately.
My belly clenches. I suck in a breath. I flare my nostrils and inhale, astronomically short on oxygen at the moment. My hands grip the steering wheel to ground myself and hide my sudden shaking.
Malerie unclips her seatbelt and mutters. “Asshole. Who is that?”
I exhale. “She’s pretty.”
Veronica makes an unflattering grunting sound. “I don’t like her. She’s been over here before. She’s a snob.”
Wow. I’m stunned there’s someone in the world that Veronica doesn’t like. The girl could make friends with a cyborg.
“Listen,” I say. “I don’t think I can stay and help. Maybe some other time when the guys aren’t home.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Malerie opens her car door. “We need you and you’re coming in. I will personally drag you out. Don’t let him get away with this.”
I’m officially horrified. They must know I went out with Dylan. Also, it’s clear they can see I’m having a breakdown at seeing this unknown blonde with him. I straighten in my seat.
“Hey, it doesn’t bother me if he dates. We’re only friends. Really. It was a pizza and hanging out kind of thing...” My words sound flat and unconvincing even to me.
Dylan shoves his hands into the pockets of his low-slung jeans and turns toward my car. His brows bunch and I know he’s recognized that it’s me.
Veronica hops out and runs around to my side of the car. She opens my door and I scramble to grab the handle to shut it. She leans into my space. “He’s crazy about you. Ms. Stick-Up-Her-Ass is like a bad habit for him. Don’t let her scare you off. We can handle her.”
I get out of my car. “Handling this situation is not a group effort.” I mutter the words, my pulse out of control. “And she doesn’t scare me in the least.”
The danger isn’t this blonde porcelain doll standing next to Dylan. The real problem is the way I can’t take my gaze off him. And he’s staring right back at me. I get the feeling I’m the one toy he wants to own and can’t.
He puts his hands on his hips and nods back to the woman. Her gaze coolly flits to me—barely a blip on her radar—and returns to him. “I’ll call you later,” she says to him. Then, she turns, walks down the porch steps and past us without a word. Her car is parked on the other side of mine, and I can’t help but compare her sleek sedan to my non-too-gently used economy model.
I can’t handle the two violent emotions that fill me, an urge to punch that girl in the throat and then punch him. Preferably a lot lower than his throat.
Dylan’s attention is back on me. I refuse to be seconds for anyone. My gaze slides over him—his black Henley molded to broad shoulders, sleeves pushed up on his powerful arms, shirt untucked and casual. His lips part in a smile at my slow study. One eyebrow arches in question.
Despite all my protests about not wanting to get involved with a player, I let myself fall for him without even realizing I stumbled. He’s much too confident of his hold on me. I’ve got to fake disinterest before he makes any more moves.
Chapter Twelve
Show Me
Dylan
Wind whips around the edge of the front porch where I stand without a coat. It’s bitterly cold today, but it’s just gotten colder. Emerson’s arctic stare could freeze the balls off a snowman.
My gaze swings from Emerson to the receding taillights of Yvette’s car. Yvette, a former girlfriend who somehow still views me as a friend, called me insane for getting involved with Emerson.
“Hey, gorgeous,” I say to Emerson in a welcoming tone so she’ll stop scowling at me. Then my gaze shifts to Veronica and Malerie who both give me murderous looks. A trio of bad vibes pointed my direction.
“You’re gonna blow your chance,” Malerie says and passes by me. “Don’t mess this up. Talk to her.” Malerie raises both eyebrows at me. Her eyes are red with makeup smudges underneath.
I quickly glance away, uncomfortable with the thought of two upset females right now. Emerson’s all I can handle. “Right,” I answer. Emerson’s back is turned to me and she’s whispering with Veronica. I stride over, not waiting for them to finish.
Emerson shakes her head at Veronica in some girl sign language that further confuses me. These two rarely talk to each other much less go places together.
Emerson lifts her chin at me in a way that Jordy might. “Hey, what’s up?” she asks.
“I’ve called and left you voice mail.” Two voicemails on Saturday, two on Sunday, and one today where I did all but threaten to show up at her place if she didn’t call me back.
“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t think it was important. I’ve been busy.” She gives a tight-lipped fake smile and walks around me to follow the retreating Veronica into the house.
What. The. Fuck.
Her flippant tone and disregard for my concern shoots a bullet of anger into my gut. I turn and follow her inside, walking quickly enough to step around and block her path to the kitchen. “If I’ve done something to piss you off, then you should talk to me.”
She folds her arms across her chest and stares into the afternoon sun that streams through the patio doors leading to the deck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do.” I grab her hand and pull her toward the staircase. “We need to talk in private.”