Harsh? Possibly, but I’ve done this enough times to know getting straight to the point is the only way I’ll be able to get a girl like Brandi to back off.
Her mouth falls open. She quickly slams it shut and rolls her shoulders back. “She can join. I don’t mind.”
“While that’s alovelyoffer,Brenda,” Denver says, butchering her name on purpose, “that would be a hard pass from me. I’d rather peel my own toenails off than ever—and I meanever—see Shep naked.”
I smirk at the vivid imagery. “Now, now, Denny, we both know the lie detector would determine that’s a lie.”
“You wish it was a lie,Slug.”
I grunt in distaste at the nickname, because she of all people knows how much I hate it, and I know what it means when she uses it.
“What are you even doing here, Andrews?”
“Grocery shopping. This is the grocery store, isn’t it? That’s what you’re supposed to do here—notother people.”
Stripper Brandi gasps at Denny’s words, and I can’t help but laugh.
She always did get right to the point. There was never any pussyfooting around with her, and it’s something I’ve always loved about her, even when I was supposed to be hating her.
“You have a point there,” I concede.
“She does?”
“She does,” Denny tells my…well, whatever Brandi is. Potential hook-up?Expotential hook-up?
“Listen, Strip”—I catch myself at the last moment—“Brandi, like I said, it’s not going to work tonight.”
Her lips fall into a pout. Suddenly they don’t look as kissable as they once did.
And it’s all fucking Denny’s fault.
I glance over and can’t help but compare her to the girl I had plans to use as a distraction tonight.
It’s late, and we’re at the grocery store, yet Stripper Brandi is dressed to impress, right down to the studded boots on her feet.
Denny…well, she’s dressed all right, but it’s clear she isn’t trying to impress anyone with what she’s wearing.
She’s clad in bright teal yoga pants and a soft gray sweater hanging off one shoulder. Her dark hair is twisted into a messy knot, not an ounce of makeup is on her face, and with the way I can see her nipples straining against the thin cotton of her sweater, I’m fairly certain she isn’t wearing a bra either…and I’m not going to argue with that.
It’s simple, and she even looks a little homeless, yet I can’t stop my eyes from lingering on her. It’s not because of the homeless thing, either.
It’s simply Denny. It’s always been that way with her. No matter how much I want to, I can’t hate her the way she hates me.
Honestly, I never hated her at all.
“Can I at least give you my number?” Brandi asks, pulling my attention back to her.
I won’t use it, but…“Sure.”
She holds her hand out, waiting for my phone, but I know a whole hell of a lot better than to hand my precious over. When it finally dawns on her that I’m not going to give it to her, she digs into the oversized purse dangling off her arm and pulls out a wad of receipts and a pen. She quickly jots down digits I don’t plan to use and folds the scrap of paper, dragging this out longer than she needs to.
“I hope we can pick this back up…” Her eyes dart toward Denny. “Later tonight.”
“It’s after ten thirty—don’t you have school tomorrow?” Denny taunts.
Stripper Brandi huffs then stretches onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to my cheek. “I’ll be up.”
As she disappears around the corner, Denny bursts into hysterical laughter.
