Page 87 of Mensa's Match

“Yeah, that’s why it’s so fuckin’ funny. I’m not the type to skinny-dip in a community pool, woman. Hell, a couple of the brothers have pools in their back yards and most of them don’t even skinny-dip in theirownpools. I brought a duffel over here, and I packed my swim trunks.”

Her tone became haughty. “Well, I learned something new about you.”

“You puttin’ your suit on, or what?”

“Yes.”

Mensa parked Whitney’s Elantra in his parents’ driveway. He rested his wrist on the top of the steering wheel. “You over your snit?”

She turned her head to him. “I’m not having a snit, Mensa.”

“You sure?”

Her chin went up an inch. “Very. I was nervous, and letting me drive would have kept me from—”

He interrupted her by wrapping his hand around her neck. “You don’t need to be nervous.”

“I said, ‘Iwasnervous’. And I was quiet on the way here because it’s weird being a passenger in my own car. Not to mention, I’m curious if you driving was just an alpha-male thing or if you don’t trust my driving.”

“I’ll go with both.”

“What?” she demanded.

He chuckled and let go of her neck. “I’m messing with you, though driving back from Jackson behind you, I noticed you got one helluva a heavy foot.”

She sighed. “The interstate is different, Ragstone.” She looked out the window. “Where’s Riley’s car?”

He followed her gaze. “Not sure. They might be on Finn’s bike and running late.”

She nodded, pulled down the visor, and inspected her lips.

He leaned toward her. “Whitney, you look great. Mom’s gonna love you.”

“You would say that. You’re biased, and you picked out my dress.”

He laughed. “After we showered, you laid out three dresses andtoldme to choose.”

It had been a no-brainer, too. The short, purple, polka-dot dress showed off her legs and a hint of cleavage.

Finn rode his bike up the drive and parked behind them. Riley scurried off the Harley, put her helmet on the seat, and beelined it to the passenger-side door.

Whitney opened her door, smiling at Riley. “Hey, there.”

“Hey, yourself. I love your dress. It’s so cute.”

Whitney nodded. “Thanks. Do you have Sunday dinner here often? Or just when I need moral support?”

Riley laughed. “About twice a month. You’re gonna love Aunt Celeste’s pot roast. The potatoes she makes to go with it are heavenly.”

“Are you four gonna jack your jaws out here all night?” Dad called from the front door.

Mensa replied while moving to Whitney’s side. “No, sir. We’re coming inside.”

With his arm around her shoulders, he led Whitney around the corner of the garage to the front door, where his Dad stood, leaning against the jamb. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a royal blue polo shirt. Mom had likely insisted that Dad look like he was putting in the effort.

Dad smiled at them. “Hello, Whitney. I’m Dean Ragstone, I’m not sure if you remember meeting me at Riley’s wedding, but it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

She reached out and shook Dad’s hand. “Mr. Ragstone, it’s great to see you again, too.”

---