Page 43 of Set on You

In my defense, that dress was itchy. I have a thing against itchy fabric.

RITCHIE_SCOTTY7

Your dad just gave me permission to date you.

Oh and marry you, apparently.

CURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL

I’m so glad my dad is securing my future because I’m oh so incapable. Pass along my sincere gratitude.

My phone vibrates with an incoming FaceTime. From Dad.

His rosy, smiling face pops up on the screen in front of a wood-paneled wall with a dartboard.

I wave at the camera. “Hi, Dad.”

He gives me a toothy smile. “Crystal!” he shouts over the loud classic rock music in the background.

Scott’s head suddenly appears in the frame beside Dad. “Tell your daughter what you just told me.”

Dad looks directly into the camera. “Scotty has my permission to ask for your hand in marriage.”

I give an exaggerated raised brow. “Do I get a say in this?”

In typical social butterfly fashion, Dad gets sidetracked and abruptly disappears from the frame, abandoning his phone in Scott’s capable hands. I can see Dad in the background, high-fiving one of Martin’s friends. Scott looks like he’s walking away from the crowd to take refuge in a quieter area of the bar.

“Hey, I’d make a damn fine husband. I’m very low maintenance,” Scott declares with confidence.

“I don’t get that impression. You’re quite needy... passing out in clinics, constantly needing your ego stroked and such.”

“Minor details. I really only require two things. Regular sex and food.”

“That’s a tall order,” I tease.

My skin prickles at the sight of his dimples. “Wanna get married if we’re both forty and still single?” he asks.

“What? Like a marriage pact?” I clear my throat at the horrifying-but-not-so-horrifying thought of givinghimregular sex and home-cooked meals. You’d really have to twist my arm... not.

He shrugs casually, as if he’s merely asked me to play on his rec league baseball team. “Lots of friends have them.”

I give him a slow head shake. Before I can respond, he begins to squint at the camera, his lips curving upward in pure amusement. “Are you holding a penis cookie?”

I nearly choke on a tiny piece that accidentally went down the wrong pipe. “Maybe.”

“It’s, uh, very veiny,” he observes. “Are those black specks supposed to be pubes?”

“Indeed. And it’s delectable, I’ll have you know. I have extras. Maybe I’ll even bring you one. If you’re good.”

A wide smile overtakes his entire face. “There are so many things I could say right now.”

“Please don’t.”

He makes a zipper motion across his mouth. He leans in farther toward the camera. “Where are you?”

“Sitting on the curb outside the strip club.”

“Why aren’t you inside? Are you okay? That’s not a great area of town.” His voice deepens with concern.

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