Page 23 of Fangirl Down

Now he’d seen her pale, round tits and those berry-colored nipples.

Life was going to be a lot harder from now on.

Harder. Yeah, that about covered it.

Knowing her naked body rivaled the temptation of her mouth... was going to be taking up a lot of space in his head. There was no way around that fact. No way to forget her thighs, slippery from a bath. Or her skin, softened and dewy from the heat.

“Fuck my life,” Wells muttered, right as Josephine dove through the hotel-room door.

“Sorry! Sorry. My parents called.”

“Yourwhat...”

He’d been all prepared to complain. To give her a hard time about taking eight hundred years to throw on some clothes. Unfortunately, as soon as she came out of the room in a strapless minidress, he forgot the state they were in, let alone remembered to be angry she’d taken so long.

Nothing had ever been more worth it.

He’d never had a favorite color before, but the deep emerald of her dress instantly became the one. It covered more than the towel had earlier, so why did it make her skin look so different? Almost... glowing? She’d done something to her hair, too, because it was usually up in a messy knot. Now it was down and sort of flowy? Shiny, too.

Oh shit, and then she looked up at him, rubbing her red lips together.

Red.

Maybe that was his favorite color.

Focus, man.“A call with your parents took an extra half an hour?”

“It does when they think you’re experiencing a delusional episode.”

“Come again?”

“They don’t believe me. That I’m here caddying for you.” She fiddled with something in her purse. Was that a purse? It was the size of a wallet, yet it appeared to hold a hundred items. Chapstick, a mini comb, eye drops. A green, cylindrical penlike object and alcohol swabs. Was that her insulin? He’d done some research on type 1 diabetes before coming to San Antonio, enough to know that there were more ways than one to administer insulin. Since she didn’t appear to have a pump, he assumed she took shots. “At first, my parents thought it was funny,” Josephine continued, recapturing his attention. “But my father is now speculating that I suffered a concussion during the hurricane. My mother’s theory is that I met a man and eloped, but that might just be wishful thinking on her part. Either way, they’re ready to call the FBI.”

“You know, I can easily clear this up.” He waved a hand at her purse-thing. “Let’s go. FaceTime them.”

“Really?” Hesitantly, she opened her bag again. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” he said, impatiently. “Unless you’d like to spend another half hour brushing your hair or something.”

“Thank you for noticing.” She pressed her lips together, seemingly to trap a laugh, and he found himself wishing she would just let it out already. It had been a long time since he’d heard her laugh and it had probably been at something someoneelsesaid, while she was standing in the crowd behind the rope. He wouldn’t have minded being the reason for that laugh just once. “Okay, here goes,” she said, the distinct ring of FaceTime connecting filling the hallway. “Hey guys, there is someone here who wants to speak to you.”

Wells took the phone, frowning down at the screen. “You’ve raised a daughter who can’t be ready on time, even though she had a full four hours. I hope you’re proud of yourselves.”

One of the people staring back at him had pink curlers in her hair.

The man was wearing an apron.

Something sizzled on the stove behind them.

“You’re... ,” the man started, setting down the spatula in his hand. “You’re actually there with Wells Whitaker, Joey-Roo.”

“Yes, I know, Dad. I told you.”

Joey-Roo?Wells mouthed at Josephine.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“How did you manage to birdie the fifth hole at Pebble Beach back in ’21? Did you go into the rough on purpose?”

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