“What’s a four-letter word for hang out that starts with f?” She flashes me a wicked smile. “I think it’s spelled f…u…c—”
“Lennox—”
“It’s not a big deal, Finny,” she says as she opens her passenger side door. “Whatever keeps the lights on in the studio. Bring her around. I’d love to get to know her. Plus, you’re no longer authorized to enter into a relationship without my prior approval. I have a knack for sniffing out the rats. I told you Nora was bad news from day one.”
“Yeah, yeah… Get out of here. Go see your new boy toy. Wait, do you want a ride to your car?”
“Nope,” she says, pointing across the small playground. “I’m parked just on the other side.” She hops out of the car but holds the door open. “For the record, you were really smiley today. Way more than usual.”
I raise my brow at her. “Really?”
“Definitely.” Lennox points at my chest. “Must be the change in company.” Proving her point, I smile to myself as she shuts the truck door and heads to the overflow parking lot.
Hm, must be.
14
Avery
I am exhausted.
I don’t know how women do this every single freaking day.
Lucky for me, Palmer talked me into full-body laser hair removal years ago, so shaving wasn’t necessary. Still, it took me hours to pluck my eyebrows, put on a face mask, then wash, blow-dry, and curl my long hair. I spent an ungodly amount of time going down the rabbit hole of smoky-eye tutorials, which turns out I suck at, so I ended up settling on several thick coats of mascara, black eyeliner, a little pink eyeshadow, and matching blush. This is about as glam as I can get it.
It’s not about impressing Finn. It’s about impressing myself. I can do this. I can learn to appreciate more about myself than the business I created. Looks shouldn’t be the most important thing…but should they still be a thing? Is a man wrong for wanting a woman to try a little bit? Maybe with Mason I should’ve put on makeup and worn clothes that didn’t look like they barely survived a moth attack. There is a part of me that knows I’m partially culpable for Mason’s lack of interest in our sex life.
But I can turn this around.
This is my decade. I won’t wallow. I won’t whine. I will figure this out. I will have my cake and eat it, too. I’ll find a man who can do more than tolerate me. One day, I’ll have children with a man who loves to be cozy with me in sweatpants but appreciates me in the bedroom too. A unicorn? Perhaps. But I’m great at research. I’ll find him if it’s the last thing I do.
Or die single.
Whichever comes first.
I head to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. I’m walking around in my bra and underwear because Finn did not tell me what time he was picking me up tonight and I don’t have his number. I’m assuming he’s picking me up. There’s a small chance he thinks I’m meeting him at the restaurant, but seeing as I don’t know which restaurant we’re going to, I sincerely hope he’s not that clueless.
He told me he was done with work around six o’clock, so I’ve been primped and polished since six on the dot. My dress is on a hanger, dangling from the staircase railing, and my strappy black heels are lined up neatly underneath. My satin dress is restricting, so I figured I’d enjoy my comfort until Finn rings the doorbell. If this is going to continue for the summer, we need to plan better. I’m not sure if I’m going to be in my underwear for minutes or hours. I’m a dinner at five-thirty kind of girl, but Vegas people are a different breed.
Cold water bottle in hand, I hunch over, peering into the enormous built-in fish tank in the living room that doubles as a see-through wall. Where is she…ah, there’s my little spaz.
“Hey, Cherry, so dumdum, as in my ex-boyfriend Mason, hasn’t sent the reports on Legacy Resorts yet, therefore instead of working on my big proposal, I did some research on you today. I’m pretty sure you’re a Cherry Barb.” Wow. I’m talking to a fish…a fish that paces like it’s high on cocaine. “I’ll ask Dex when he’s back, but if I’m right, can we pause for a moment and appreciate how apt and intuitive my nickname is for you? I started calling you Cherry a week ago.”
I raise my brows at the tank as if I expect the little fish to answer.
“Also, please don’t be offended, but I’ve dubbed you she because you’re so shiny and pretty. If you are a male and that’s offensive, I sincerely apologize. Apparently, the only way I can confirm your gender is by scooping you out of the water, gutting you, and checking your intestines, and we’re just not going to do that, Cherry. But it seems rude to continue to call you ‘it.’ You have such a big personality for a fish. I watch you all the time. You’re a total spaz. You either have severe anxiety, or that fish goop the aquarium guy feeds you once a week has you on uppers. But I don’t mind. You’re up at all hours of the day and night, and it makes me feel less alone. Mason and I are a mess. Palmer’s so wrapped up in her show. My parents are on another planet. You’re the only one I can really talk to whenever—”
“You can talk to me.”
I shoot up straight and immediately try to cover my bare ass that my thong does not conceal. Spinning around, my heartbeat doesn’t calm when I see Finn leaning in the doorway of the sliding glass patio doors.
He’s chuckling at me. The smug bastard is in stitches as I try my best to cover my nakedness. “I already saw your bare ass bent over, sweetheart. I licked your pussy clean last night. What’re you trying to hide?”
I open my mouth and then close it. I can’t think of anything better to say, so I blurt out, “Lurker. How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long. Just since you told Cherry you wouldn’t gut her to check out her equipment.”
I’m not sure what’s more concerning at the moment—that Finn caught me talking to a fish, or caught me in my underwear, talking to a fish.
“Why wouldn’t you ring the doorbell?”
“I did,” Finn says, holding up three fingers. “Three times. You didn’t answer. I came through the back to make sure you were okay. You live alone here, Avery. If we make plans and you don’t answer the door…I’m going to check on you.”
I take a moment to eye him up and down and as my shock and mortification simmer, I have time to notice how handsome he looks dressed up in clean black slacks and a baby blue button-down that matches his eyes. He has a sports coat draped over his arm.
“I guess I didn’t hear the doorbell from upstairs.”
He shrugs as he enters and closes the sliding door behind him. “Well, I’m here now. You ready? Or do you need more time? Our Uber is outside.”
“Uber?”
“Yeah, it’s a pain in the ass to park my truck on the Strip. It’s easier to get dropped off.”
“We’re going to the Strip?”
He cinches one eye closed. “Is that okay?”
I nod, still stupefied at his attire. He’s dazzling. There’s no other way to describe it. Good grief. He’s so sweet and normal, I forgot he’s a god among men. How the hell did I trick this man into taking me out to dinner? We’re not even the same species.