Page 7 of One Night on the Naughty List

Her smile faded. But she recovered quickly, giving a little shrug. “I, um, didn’t go.”

A faint alarm sounded in my head. I had an idea where this was going, and I didn’t like it. As gently as I could, I asked, “Why not?”

“I didn’t have a date.” Another shrug. “I carried a lot of baby fat as a kid, and I became a chubby teenager. You know how boys can be at that age.”

Yeah, stupid little shits. She played it off, but her shrugs said everything. I was angry on her behalf. They said time healed all wounds, but I’d learned the hard way that some wounds stuck around. They formed scars. Some days you could almost forget about them, but then you bumped one out of the blue and all that pain rushed back, reminding you how bad it hurt when you were first wounded.

But you could make the pain fade again. Sometimes the best medicine was another person telling you things were okay. That things could be different or better.

“Samantha,” I said softly, making her look at me. “I know it’s probably wildly inappropriate for me to say this, and Kara will scold me if she finds out, but trust me when I say you definitely wouldn’t have to worry about snagging a prom date now. Boys are boys, yes, but they grow up and become men. And any man would be proud to have you on his arm.”

Her reply was just as soft. “Thanks, Bain.”

“You have a beautiful figure,” I added. Then I winced inside. Figure was something my grandfather said. Maybe next I could talk about fiber supplements or ways to keep arthritis from creeping in.

For a moment, silence hung between us. I braced myself for her to recoil or turn away, her body language uncomfortable.

But she gave me a shy smile, her dimples making an appearance as she caught my eye. “I won’t tell Kara you said that. Although, I’m sure she’d enjoy scolding you.”

Her cheeks were full of that glorious pink again.

And it seemed I had my answer.

Samantha Pratt’s blushes had something to do with me, after all.

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