Page 145 of The Score

“Don’t,” I say brusquely. “You need to forget her number.”

Allie gives me a reassuring squeeze. “We already said everything we needed to say,” she tells her ex. Her tone is soft but firm.

Sean clears his throat. “I owe you an apology.”

“Yep, and you’ve just made it and I accept. But we’re not friends and we won’t be.” She moves forward. I’m reluctant to do the same. I’m aching to punch that bastard in the face, but Allie is pulling me away from him, her fingers laced tightly through mine. “He’s not important,” she murmurs to me.

She’s right. He isn’t.

We’ve barely taken five steps before I spot another familiar face. This one belongs to a hot blond who smiles and waves as she passes us. “Looking good, Di Laurentis.”

I don’t return the compliment, because I like having balls and Allie will rip them off if I flirt with Michelle. Besides, I don’twantto flirt. Allie’s killed that desire. She’s the only one I want to flirt with. Plus I like having my balls attached to my body.

So I just say, “Nice to see you” and continue along.

“I guess this is the day of the exes, huh?” Allie says dryly.

I roll my eyes. “Michelle’s not an ex.”

“Right. She’s just someone you had a threesome with.”

“Almosthad a threesome with. You cockblocked me, remember?”

“Yep.” She looks pleased with herself, and I pretend to pout. “Ha. Don’t act like I ruined youronechance for a threesome. I’m sure that wasn’t your first rodeo.”

I offer a little shrug.

“Fucking hell. How many threesomeshaveyou had?”

This time I wink. “A few. You?”

“Tons.”

I stiffen. “Names and dates,” I growl. “I need to make a newKill Billlist.”

Allie bursts out laughing. “Relax. You were there for all of them.”

A frown touches my lips. Uh, I think I’d remember being in a threesome with?—

“You, me, and Winston,” she says happily.

I groan in exasperation. “That doesn’t count.”

“Sure it does. DP was involved.”

Hell yeah it was.

An hour later,we’re back at my place. It’s Allie’s turn to pick a movie, which means I have time to take a shower, because it always takes her a ridiculously long time to decide what she wants to watch. I wander into the living room ten minutes later to find her snuggled under an afghan, fiddling on her phone.

Her mouth falls open when she sees me. “Oh my God, Dean. Why are you naked?”

“I don’t like shirts.”

“What about pants?” she squawks. “Got something against those too?”

I cross the room and drop my naked ass on the couch, then grab the edge of the blanket and throw it over my lower body. Allie watches me in amusement.

“What?” I say defensively.

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