Page 122 of A Little Tempting

REEVES

Iwasn’t kidding when I told Dylan the Halloween parties at SeaBird aren’t as good as our costume parties but still pretty fun, and for some reason, I’m even more anxious to have her on my arm tonight. To show the rest of the world she’s mine, even if it’s only for one night. I decided to go all out for our costumes and gave Dylan a choice between Little Red Riding Hood—she’s yet to see the irony—or Princess Charming. She vetoed both almost instantly.

However, when Finley showed up at my bedroom door with a costume bag over her arm and promised she’d take care of everything, I didn’t fight her.

And here I am, waiting at the base of the stairs for Dylan to appear. I told everyone else to meet us at the bar, and they left without protest. As I check the time on my phone, a creak sounds at the top of the staircase, grabbing my attention. The view is even better than I anticipated. My mouth goes dry as I take her in. Every curve. Every freckle. Every inch of pale, creamy skin. Her light blonde hair is half up, the rest cascading around her shoulders. The twists and braids are an exact replica of the dragon queen herself, and so is the royal blue dress robething. Honestly, I’m not sure what to call it, but she looks incredible.

“No glasses?” I ask.

“Does Daenerys Targaryen wear glasses?” she challenges.

“So, you’re going all out, I take it?”

“Uh, heck, yes.” Stopping at the last step, she takes in my dark leather straps, inked shoulders, and Dothraki armor. “And apparently, so are you, Khal Drogo.”

I drew the line at the dark wig and couldn’t braid my scruff even though Finley insisted on trying after she knocked on my door with a makeup kit in her hands earlier tonight. I caved, letting her add dark shadows around my eyes as Dylan finished getting ready in the room opposite mine.

When their kitchen burned down, I was a little worried the close proximity might be too much for me, but it’s proven the opposite. I like having Dylan around. Seeing her in my space. The kitchen. The family room. The classroom. The bathroom. It’s one benefit after another, and knowing I get to bring her home tonight and kiss her goodnight in my hallway instead of on her doorstep makes me feel lighter than ever. Hell, part of me hopes the contractors never finish the damn thing, and she moves in permanently.

A guy can dream, can’t I?

Reaching for her hand, I guide Dylan down the last step until I tower over her tiny frame. With a gentle nudge, I lift her chin, nearly getting lost in those aqua pools. “You look perfect, Dylan.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself, my sun and stars.”

Laughter booms out of me as I throw my head back. “Did you just quoteGame of Thrones?”

“Finley and I watched another episode while we were getting ready.”

Well aware I’m the luckiest bastard in the world, I tug her against me, wrap my arms around her waist, and breathe in her scent. I don’t know if it's her shampoo or perfume or her natural pheromones, but I swear I could wrap myself up in it. In her.

“Your friend’s something else,” I tell her.

Dylan rolls her eyes. “Just wait ‘til you see her fairy godmother costume. Come on. Let’s get going.”

Threading our fingers together, I lead her out the front door and lock it behind us. Then, we make our way to SeaBird.

The drive is short, but the place is already packed. Coconut and lime hang in the air as I push the door open. The bouncer dips his chin as we enter, barely scanning Dylan’s fake ID. I guide her to the bartop at the back. A live band is playing on the stage to our left, and the dance floor is packed with people grinding on each other.

With wide eyes, Dylan scans the area, a soft smile playing at the edge of her lips.

I bend closer to her and ask, “What are you thinking?”

“Will you think I’m weird if I say my parents?”

Cocking my head, I bend closer, convinced I misheard her. “Did you say you’re thinking about your parents right now?”

“This is where my mom and dad became an official couple, or at least it’s what they told me,” she adds. “It’s kind of surreal being here.”

“Good surreal?”

She nods. “Definitely.”

“What would you like to drink?” I prod.

Her shoulder lifts in a shrug. “Whatever.”

“Sweet?” I ask.

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