Page 33 of Winning the Nightcap

Bec:Are you kidding? You don’t need to make anything up to me, and you really don’t need to pay me. I finally have someone to snuggle with. I’m living the dream.

Aiden:Then tell Hopper I’m jealous. He’s living my dream. You still thinking about what I asked?

Bec:Um, yeah…

Aiden:Where does that leave us for dinner? Am I having a lonely dinner for one or can I share with the hot dog trainer?

Bec:Ha, at first, I read that as hot dog dinner. No hot dogs for dinner please.

Aiden:No, those are strictly for cookouts and ball games. I’m thinking something classy, like Antonio’s pizza.

Bec:Hm, you might know a thing or two about how to make a girl happy, Aiden.

Aiden:That’s the idea. I’ll see you tomorrow, Bec.

Bec:Night, Aiden.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Bec

Abby:Okay, what the fuck did I just read?

Bec:You finished? How many times… ;)

Abby:I’m not answering that…but I understand why you told me these books are one-handed reads now.

Bec:I told you! So, you’re still in for book club tonight at my place?

Abby:Count me in. What can I bring?

Bec:Just you and your book. We usually order in and the host provides the drinks. I’m making mojitos but I’ll have some other options too.

Bec:Oh, and any dog treats you wanna share with Hopper. I’m dog sitting for one of my students in training so there will be a rowdy, highly food-motivated puppy here too.

Abby:Hopper…you mean that hot baseball player’s lab you had in for a makeup class? Since when do you offer dog sitting services?

Bec:I don’t. Just helping out a friend.

Abby:Uh-huh. Sure, Bec. Whatever you need to tell yourself.

Bec:I’m going to regret introducing you to my books if you try to turn everything in our real lives into a romance. He just wants to be friends.

Abby:He wants to be friends. And what do you want…?

Abby:Bec?

Abby:The silent treatment, really? Oh, we are so getting into this later. Better get your story straight now.

* * *

“Has anyone tried fucking with a pillow under your hips? I need to know if it’s as good as this book makes it sound. Carissa, that’s your homework. Be ready to report back next month,” Dee demands, shooting finger guns Carissa’s way.

Carissa looks around my small kitchen sarcastically, like she’s trying to find someone behind her, then back at Dee. “Are you confusing me with someone else? Who do you think I’m going to be practicing this position with? I’m as single as a Pringle,” Carissa replies.

“A Pringle is never single. They fit too perfectly together in pairs. Who the hell eats one Pringle at a time?” Dee asks.

“No one,” I say. I can’t help but encourage Dee sometimes.

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