Page 32 of Skin Deep

“It’s because you actually care about this guy.” Setting the mascara aside, Meg dusted powder over the apples of Amy’s cheeks. “And you’re afraid that he’s going to start seeing you through his family’s eyes.”

Amy opened her eyes, squinting narrowly up at her sister. “There’s a terrifying thought. Thank you ever so much for putting it into my head.”

“You’re welcome.” Meg smiled beatifically. “You’re done.”

Meg moved back, clapping her hands together to remove the remnants of face dust that clung. Amy craned her head around to the mirror to see. She frowned. “You didn’t do what I asked you to.”

She’d told Meg to...well, to tone her down a bit. Pink lipstick instead of her signature red. Easy on the eye makeup and the contouring.

Instead, her sister had taken her usual look and classed it up, for lack of a better word. Her lips were painted red, but it was a deep crimson rather than her usual scarlet. Her eyes had been accentuated with a set of smoky browns, her cheekbones emphasized with a tawny shade.

She looked like herself. And she looked like she could kick some ass.

“It works,” she told Meg, nodding with approval. “Even though you went off book.”

“You wanted me to go off book,” her sister replied with a shake of her head. “You wanted me to make you look like someone you’re not. Like someone you think these people will be happy to meet.”

“That’s not true,” Amy replied, but even as she did, she knew it was a lie.

“It most certainly is.” With a wide smile, Meg handed Amy her bottle of signature perfume, indicating with a pinch of her fingers to go easy on it. “But that’s not who Fred invited to dinner. Family or not, I have to think he wants you to be you.”

“I guess we’ll see.” Sucking in a deep breath, Amy placed a hand on her stomach in an attempt to quiet the nerves rolling around in it. “Still totally not nervous.”

“Right.” Meg rolled her eyes as she handed Amy a small makeup bag that she’d stuffed with the essentials for touch-ups. “Look. I get that you care about this guy, and that changes things. Believe me, I understand.”

Meg had gone through her share of strife with her own love, John, so Amy knew this to be true.

“Here’s the thing, though. If he’s worth it, really worth it? He won’t expect you to change a thing. More than that? He’ll fight to keep you, just the way you are.”

“Right.” This wasn’t news—it was a truth Amy lived her life by. She’d never before cared enough, one way or another, if someone she’d been seeing came up lacking.

This time? If Fred proved himself unworthy tonight...she wasn’t sure she could recover.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“WOW.” THE LOOK on Fred’s face when he opened the front door to his parents’ house was worth every second that Amy had let Meg layer her face in makeup. He looked her up and down, appreciation evident in his features. “Hi.”

“You’re staring.” She smirked at him as she hitched her purse up higher on her shoulder. Her wallet stuck out the top, and she took a moment to tuck it back into the bag—she’d splurged on an Uber to get here. Fred had wanted to come pick her up, but she’d wanted her own means of escape, just in case.

“You’re worth staring at.” He gestured with his hand for her to turn around. She did, laughing, letting him get a full view. “Let me use some of the many words I’ve learned over my life to say, damn.”

She knew he hadn’t expected her to show up for dinner in her habitual torn cutoffs and tank top, but he’d never seen her in anything else. She was vain enough to enjoy the hell out of the way he was looking at her, and she knew she deserved it. It had been a bit of work, but damn it, she looked good.

A sleek, satiny, plum-colored dress clung to her curves from throat to knee. It was Meg’s dress, and where it hit midcalf on her sister, it ended just above the knee for her. She’d paired it with spiky-heeled black boots that made the most of her legs. She’d added a thin black sweater that covered her shoulders and arms but was fitted enough not to distract from the lines of the dress.

The look had been chosen with care. She wasn’t ashamed of who she was, or the ink that she’d chosen to mark indelibly on her body. That said, she also wasn’t so naive that she thought any set of parents would be thrilled to be introduced to a girlfriend with as many tattoos as she had. She and Meg had chosen this dress because the high neckline covered the black stars on her neck, and the sweater because it took the attention away from her full tattoo sleeves.

She left her legs bare, the ink there open to view, as well as the four roses that adorned her right hand. And she still felt like herself, but like...well, like a grown-up version. Like a woman who was ready to meet the parents of a boyfriend.

She’d done a lot of things in her life, but she’d never done that.

“You’re drooling already? I haven’t even shown you the whole dress.” Her words were teasing. Shrugging her sweater down her arms, she turned away from him so that he could see the back of her dress—or rather, the lack thereof.

She heard him suck in a breath when he saw the way the high collar of the dress circled her neck, and then the naked skin that continued to the base of her spine.

She felt him move closer, trailing a finger down her spine. She shivered as he traced her shoulder blades, the muscles of her back, the delicate stripes of her rib cage.

“Let’s just leave now,” he announced, moving his finger to stroke over the side of her breast. A small sound of arousal escaped her mouth. “Dinner is overrated.”

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