Page 5 of Shielded

“I’ve also dumped my share of these kinds of guys before, too. You remember Eddie?”

I swear I can hear her eyes roll. “Eddie was psychotic. Psychos are excluded from my experiment. Do you remember Carlos? He was sweet as pie. That man brought you coffee in bed every morning and wrote you a poem every day. You dumped him because he wasn’t aggressive enough.” She sighs. “I’m sure I’m not the only one to notice this about you. Talk to your sister.”

“Not necessary.” I bite back a grin. I know Dot’s right, but I’ll never admit it out loud. “After all of this, I think I’ve decided to trade teams. I’ve decided you’re my date to his wedding now.”

“Yeah, not happening, but when I’m down for trading teams, I’ll let you know. Lord knows men are annoying as a whole. I’m not sure why women haven’t risen up and created an entire society of our own yet. We’d do this so much better than men.”

“How have things been since you got back?” Dot has lived in Seattle for the past few years. She only came back a few months ago because of a weirdo ex. Another reason men can’t be trusted. Though, in truth, I can think of just as many women who stalk their exes. They’re just better at not getting caught.

“Umm… I’m fine, but my dad is losing it. He’s always been hyper-protective, but this is getting crazy. I think he wants to put cameras on the property. I don’t know. I’m trying to talk him out of it.”

“That’s tough. What are you going to do?”

She sighs. “There has to be something, but I can’t figure it out. Now, if only I had a good friend who could solve all my problems like I did for you, I’d be all set.”

I try to hold them in, but the giggles come out uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, babe, but Doctor Frankenstein is only good at reanimating drama. I still love you, though.”

I can hear Dot’s smile through the phone as she says, “I love you, too. Good luck tonight. You’ll figure out the best way to handle this whole thing. Talk to you later.”

When the phone call with Dot has ended, I take to the bathroom to ready myself for the night. I already tossed on a little black dress and a dark red cardigan. It’s fall, so I want to look the part. I’ll probably wear my boots with it, even though in reality it’s still seventy-five degrees until six p.m.

I push some makeup on my face, curl my hair, spritz on some perfume, and stare at myself, wondering why this man didn’t seem attracted to me. I’m not saying everyone is attracted to me. They’re not, but I’m used to getting the once over by the majority of men. Perry did none of that. He was unphased the whole time.

I tug down the front of the dress, showing off more cleavage. Maybe this’ll do it. I don’t know why I’m acting like I need his approval. I don’t. His approval means nothing to me. I’m not even interested. A guy like Perry would walk all over me and I’d spend every day trying to assert myself. That gets exhausting.

All I really need is for him to be semi-interested so that this weekend will look real. That’s it. Nothing more.

Chapter Four

Perry

My cock is doing that thing again. The thing where it acts like it hasn’t revolutionized past the caveman era. I’m sure it has something to do with the low-cut dress Siren is wearing. The fabric clings to her hips and shows off every curve. Her breasts spill out the top and I swear there’s an areola showing, but if I look any longer, I’ll struggle even further, so I glance away.

I’ve seen half-naked women before. Lots of them. This isn’t any different.

Except for some reason it is.

I can’t take my eyes off her. I try, multiple times, but they carry back without my permission.

“You’re on time,” she says, lifting up into my truck. I’m there to help her, but she doesn’t take my hand.

When I make my way to the driver’s side, she glances my way, then up at the flowers on the dash. “Are those for me?”

I nod. “It’s a date. You get flowers on a date.” I hand her the bundle of wildflowers I’d picked on the way over. Lilies, bellflower, and prairie smoke. I could’ve gone into the store and bought some, but that doesn’t compare to the personal touch of picking them yourself.

A smile forces its way onto her face, but she bites it back, then hides her glow under the bouquet before digging into her purse for a pack of gum. She hands it toward me. “Here.”

“Gum?”

“Yeah. I brought you something, too.”

I laugh. “Or was this the gum in the bottom of your purse?”

“It’s a romantic gesture because women can do that too.”

I hand it back. “That’s not necessary.”

She brushes her soft hand against mine, insisting I take it. “It’s a gesture. You’re supposed to take gestures kindly.”

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