Page 82 of The Wingman

Our eyes meet and something in my expression causes hers to soften.

“He’s my best friend and my wingman and there are a million reasons why we shouldn’t get involved.”

She makes a thoughtful noise that sounds like reluctant agreement.

“I’m still figuring things out.”I’m still finding myselfiswhat I want to say but don’t know how. “I don’t want to derail that.”

She hums, nodding with understanding. “Can’t argue with that.” A tight smile pulls across her mouth. “Men ruin everything.”

There’s an edge to her tone. I want to know more, but she waves me over to the dressing room.

“No more stalling,” she says over her shoulder.

Fifteen minutes later, I stare at my reflection in the dressing room.

It’s the warm, flattering lighting that’s making me look so good. Or the backdrop of the thick velvet curtain behind me. Or maybe it’s the way the store smells fresh and comforting, like vanilla and lemon.

Or maybe this is just how I look in high-end lingerie. Delight and pride spread through me as I take a deep breath, watching my cleavage rise over the bra. The delicate purple of the embroidered flowers matches my hair and the fit is perfect. The fabric is soft and luxurious, like someone put time and effort into crafting this item. Something in my chest expands, swelling and making me stand a little taller.

I think my other bras are the wrong size, because my boobs don’t normally look like this.

“Am I a genius or what?” Georgia drawls from across the curtain.

Although I can’t even imagine it, I’ll eventually need to take dating seriously again.A player is always confident and chill,the list said, and wearing something like this under my clothes would definitely give me a much-needed boost.

What I’m wearing under my clothes would melt the eyesright out of your head, she said earlier. A thrill shoots through me at the idea of Hayden seeing me in it. Or even just wearing it around him, without him knowing.

That would never happen, but it’s fun to think about.

“Yes,” I call back, biting down on a smile.

I step out of the elevator on our floor at the same time Hayden’s leaving the apartment across the hall.

“Thanks for your help, love,” our elderly neighbor, Greta, says to him before she sees me and smiles with warmth. “Hayden was helping me with the upper windows I can’t reach.” She gives him a proud nod. “He’s a good window cleaner.”

Hayden and I chuckle. The guy makes millions as one of the best hockey players in the world but isn’t too proud to clean his elderly neighbor’s windows. My heart squeezes with warmth.

“Heisa good window cleaner,” I tell her with a grin.

“What a nice young man you have here.” Her eyes crinkle with a smile. “They don’t make them like this very often.”

He shifts, uncomfortable with this praise, and I beam at him. “I know. He’s one in a million.”

“Don’t let this one get away.” She winks before closing the door.

In the quiet hallway, Hayden and I start laughing.

“How was your flight?” I ask, holding our door open for him. He arrived home earlier today.

“Good.” He tilts his chin at my bags. “Doing some more shopping?”

“Georgia and I went after work.”

He makes a pleased noise. “What did you get?”

“A few tops, a pair of shoes.” And some wildly sexy lingerie that I cannevertell him about.

He takes a seat at the kitchen island as I set the bags down. “Show me.”

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