Page 71 of If You Need Me

“Smooth like butter,” I lie. “Thank you so much for opening your home to me.”

“We wouldn’t have it any other way.” She squeezes my hands and looks over at Dallas. “Sweetie, why don’t you grab the bags, and we’ll get you settled in.”

“You got it, Mom.” Dallas rounds the trunk.

“Oh, I can carry my own bag.” I packed like I was going away for weeks, not three days.

Diana chuckles. “I know you can, but it’s okay to let people do things for you.” I expect her to guide me toward the front door, but instead we round the side of the house. “We thought you and Dallas would appreciate a little privacy this weekend, so we set you up in the bunky.”

“Oh, we would’ve been fine in the house.” I look over my shoulder at Dallas who’s wheeling my enormous suitcase andweekend bag, along with his own small duffel and our garment bags.

I widen my eyes at him, and he just smiles and shrugs.

“I’m so happy that you’re finally together.” Diana pats my hand. “He was always so protective of you when you were kids.”

I frown. She must be thinking of someone else. The last thing Dallas ever did when we were kids was shield me from hurt. I don’t correct her, though. Clearly her understanding of my relationship with Dallas is different than the truth.

The bunky is an adorable little cabin. The covered front porch faces the lake and has a wooden two-person swing decorated with cushions. The front door is painted butter yellow with a sign that says HOME SWEET HOME. Diana opens the door and ushers me inside. “It’s cozy, but it’s private.”

“It’s perfect,” I say as I enter the small, one-room cabin. I’m impressed that my voice doesn’t crack. There are two doors on the far wall, presumably leading to a closet and a bathroom. To my right is a kitchenette with a sink, a tiny counter, and a mini fridge. A bistro table and two comfy chairs sit to the right. And to the left is the bed. I don’t even think I’d classify it as a double.

“We used to have bunk beds when the boys were young so they could have sleepovers out here, but I redecorated it when Dallas moved out, and now it’s our guesthouse. There’s a bathroom through there with a shower. And if you need anything, you just let me know.” She squeezes my shoulder. “When you’re settled, come up to the house and we’ll have a pre-engagement-party cocktail.” She winks and leaves me alone with Dallas.

He rolls my suitcase inside and drops his duffel on the floor before he hangs the garment bags on the coat hook and closes the door.

“What the fuck, Dallas?” I smack his chest.

“What did I do?”

I point to the bed. “It’s hardly big enough for one person, let alone two! What size is that even?”

“I think it’s a three-quarter bed. The frame belonged to my great-grandma Bippy, and obviously my mom couldn’t bear the thought of parting with it, so she put it in here. In her defense, it fits the space well.”

My stomach flips at the idea of having to lie beside Dallas in that tiny, tiny fucking bed and not give in to the chemistry raging between us. There isn’t even enough room on the floor for his enormous body. And he smells so fucking good.

There are zero chances that our bodies won’t touch in that bed. It’s too small. How will I resist him when we’re inches apartall night long?

CHAPTER 26

HEMI

“Ihate to admit it, but it’s a lovely party,” Mom says through a practiced smile.

“It is,” I agree.

It’s also one of my worst nightmares come true. This weekend will be full of them. Everyone from high school is here, and their parents. It’s like graduation night, but ten years later. Dallas is on the other side of the room, chatting with a bunch of guys from our year. I recognize all of them, and I’m sure they probably recognize me, but we weren’t friends.

I can feel the judgy stares from across the room, where Brooklyn’s friends stand in a semicircle, laughing and chatting. After prom, they all stopped talking to me. A few days later, I heard two of them in the hall saying I’d gotten what I deserved. That I was a pushy know-it-all, and they’d only tolerated me because of Brooklyn. I was too much, and they were glad they didn’t have to pretend to be my friends anymore. I take a deep breath and shove those memories aside, because they still hurt, still make me feel small and insignificant. Even though I know I’m not. Or at least I usually know I’m not…

I stand between my moms, accepting another glass of champagne as the server passes. I’m on my second, and things areblissfully soft around the edges. More tolerable. And Dallas just keeps getting hotter.

“A plaid shirt and running shoes should not look that good on a man,” I grumble into my glass. His shoes are custom made, and in team colors.

“He has interesting fashion sense. But it works for him,” Mom muses.

“I know. Sometimes he wears plaid suits and sneakers and still manages to look put together.” I sound more irritated than smitten, and at this point I’m not sure which is accurate. I’m stressed. I feel totally out of place, like the loser in the corner. I wish Shilpa was here. I wish the whole Badass Babe Brigade was here and I felt like part of something instead of being an outsider.

“It shows his personality, doesn’t it?” Ma says thoughtfully.

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