Page 95 of Tickled Pink

She laughs.

“And I want you,” I say, her smile growing. “And Stinky. And…” I pause, my heart pounding now. “And Thad.”

He smiles.

“See?” Thad says. “Your birthday is officially as bad as it’s gonna get. It’s only up from here.”

“Yeah,” I say. “And there’s no way your thirtieth birthday could be any worse than mine was, anyway.”

“Uh, I believe I hold the crown for worst thirtieth ever, Max.”

I screw up my nose. “No. Mine was worse. Objectively worse.”

“Horseshit.”

“Guys, come on,” Phoebe says. “Do we really want to relive those tonight?”

Thad and I look at each other. Too late to stop the rush of competitive testosterone now.

Sorry, Phoebe.

We’re doing this.

Chapter Thirty-One

Phoebe

Thad’s 30th Birthday

I marvel beneath the golden chandelier. We’ve lived in New York for a while now, but I’ve yet to set foot in the Botsford Plaza. There’s one back home in Los Angeles, but my family was never wealthy enough to even drive by it on the street.

Max nudges my arm, gaining my attention. I smile at him, then look down, the pink rush of embarrassment staining my cheeks. I’m a stranger to this kind of luxury. At least, I was until I found my boys.

And my boys love to shower me with luxury.

“I’m sorry, sir, but there seems to be a problem with your reservation.”

I swivel around at the stiff sound of the woman’s voice behind the counter.

“What’s the problem?” Thad asks her.

“Well,” the woman in the blue blazer hesitates for a beat, “it appears your reservation is for three people for two nights?”

“That’s right.”

“But the suite you chose only has one bed.”

“That’s right,” Thad repeats, his smile deep enough to show dimples.

The woman blushes, her eyes flicking toward me and Max over her shoulder for one blink-and-you’ll-miss-it second. “Then, I guess there’s no problem,” she says with a customer-serving smile.

“Great!” Thad says, slapping his credit card down on the counter.

She snatches it up. “I’ll be right back, Mr. Hemsley.”

As she leaves, he spins around to face us, his grin still locked in.

“You get way too much pleasure from doing that,” Max says.

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