Page 58 of All Dressed Up

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Worst night ever.

Will stood underneath the hot jets, letting the water’s steam seep deep into his muscles.

He’d appreciated his brother offering to hang out with him. They had grabbed a pizza and then came back to Will’s place where they worked for a bit in his garage.

It didn’t make him feel any better, but it did relegate the embedded image of Rachel in the arms of another man to the back of his mind for a few hours.

The one silver lining in all this, he hadn’t hit the bottle. After the one beer at the garage with his brother, he’d stuck to water for this latest brood fest.

At least that was progress.

A loud pound caused him to step back. He turned off the water and strained to hear. The noise intensified. Who the hell was pounding on his door at this hour? Stepping out of the shower, he reached for one of his oversized white towels and wrapped it around his waist.

It was probably Dan. He must have forgotten something—maybe his wallet again.

He left his bathroom but stopped in his tracks mid-hallway. It was definitely not Dan standing on the other side of his door with the porch light shining down.

He unlocked the door and flung it open. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Rachel stood in front of him behind the screen, cradling a rectangular red container. She wore the soft pink sweater she’d left at his house all those months ago.

“Sorry”—he adjusted his towel—“I was in the shower. I didn’t hear you knock.” What was she doing here? Last time he checked, it was close to midnight. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I was just in the neighborhood.”

He cocked an eyebrow. Somehow, he doubted it.

“I brought you dinner.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

She nodded to the screen door still separating them. “Are you going to let me in? It’s the least you can do after standing me up.”

Ouch!Okay, he deserved that. It’d been stupid to bail on her like he did without calling. Even a lame text would have been better than nothing. He propped open the screen door with one hand. “Come on in.”

She led the way down the hall to his kitchen while his brain tried to compute that she was here in his cottage looking all kinds of hot in her sweater, fitted jeans, and heels. Was he dreaming? His lungs filled with her sweet, intoxicating perfume. Definitely not dreaming. He glanced down at his bare chest and towel. “I’m just going to go change.”

“I’ll be here,” she sang out, walking over to his refrigerator and flinging it open. “You’re going to love what I made.”

His pulse quickened.Hot damn. This night took an unexpected turn. Not only was Rachel in his kitchen looking sexy as hell, it seemed like she wanted to be there. He dashed into his bedroom and threw on a T-shirt and sweatpants, raking his fingers through his wet hair. He wasn’t going to blow this opportunity.

He glanced at himself in his long mirror. Maybe he should put on jeans or a nicer shirt.

Nah. He hoped to have all clothing off—including Rachel’s—in an hour or so. He grinned at his reflection. A hookup had to be the reason she was here.

He wanted more, but if that’s all tonight was for her, he’d take it.

When he returned, he saw that Rachel made herself at home, setting his kitchen table with two plates, silverware, and wine glasses. She’d even lit a candle. They were really doing this dinner thing. Impressed, he pulled out a chair and took a seat. She’d filled his plate full of pancake-looking things. “What’s all this?”

She grinned, sliding into her seat. “The best chicken and asparagus crepe you’ve ever tasted along with an amazing lemon crepe with honey and fromage blanc.”

“Fromage what?” He picked up a fork and lifted the crepe. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t pronounce it, let alone didn’t know what was in it, it looked amazing.

“Blanc. It’s a type of cheese.”

He dug his fork into that crepe first, taking a bite. His eyes rolled back. “Dang that’s good.”

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