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But instead of leading me back to the bathroom, he took me behind closed doors to the kitchen area, which was devoid of cooks at such a late hour.
“Are we allowed to be back here?” I asked. Then I nearly hit myself. Here I was, in the presence of what had to be silver fox royalty, and I was asking him about therules? How much more childish could I look? Thank god I hadn’t worn Mara’s disco ball earrings like she’d wanted me to.
“Yeah, I know the owner,” he said.
Of course he did. Older people always knew people. Specifically, people who came in handy when a beer got spilled all over your dress.
We approached the sink, and he reached across me to the stack of rags on a shelf. As he did, I caught a whiff of his cologne, and my eyes practically rolled into the back of my head. Why did he smell so good?
Dax refused cologne, opting instead for essential oils, but my god, he never smelled like this. I finally understood what all the heroines in Mara’s romance novels meant when they said their breasts perked up for a man. Because holy moly did the girls have a mind of their own right now.
With the wet rag in his large hand, he looked me over, an assessing air to his gaze.
I bit my lip, worried what he would think of me, and my body.
“This dress is ruined. Maybe we should get you out of it,” he said, his husky voice sending need pooling in my core.
“Wh-what?” I managed. I didn’t know getting a rebound would be this easy.
He cracked his lips into an endearingly apologetic grin. “I might have an extra uniform back here.”
He passed me and walked toward a closet in the back of the kitchen. As he bent into the closet, reaching for a box, I was acutely aware of the muscles of his back, of the way his shoulder muscles strained against his shirt.
God, I needed to get a grip. Wasn’t I always telling kids to stop objectifying each other? Hadn’t I beenengagedthat morning?
He reached deeper into the closet, and I forgot that thought altogether.
My lips parted. Now Ireallyneeded to get a grip. On him.
He came out with a black shirt. “It’s four XL. Maybe you can wear it as a dress? It won’t be a sexy as that one, but...” He shrugged and handed it to me.
My breath quickened. Had he just called me sexy? Silently, I thanked the stars that Mara had found the Vegas dress. It was already bringing me good luck.
“After you change, can I get you a drink, you know, to apologize?” he asked.
I smiled, giddy at the thought of spending more time with him. Hopefully time where I wouldn’t be gaping and staring like an awestruck teenage girl. “That would be nice.”
He nodded. “Meet me at the bar.” He gave me a once over and a rueful smile. “It’ll be a shame to see that dress go.”
The kitchen door shut behind him and I danced, fanning myself with my hands.Omigoshomigoshomigosh.
Could this silver fox be my rebound?
Oh shit.
He couldn’t be a rebound, right? Someone hot is not supposed to be the one you bounce back with. He’s supposed to be the one you get with after the bounce back and then live happily ever after. Right?
Shit.
I got out my phone and dialed Mara, praying she would hear her phone over the music pounding outside.
“B!” she said. “Where have you been?”
“I just met a super-hot guy!” I cried. “He wants to get me a drink. But he’s hot, Mar, like smoking hot. This isn’t good.”
“WHAT? Why not?”
“He’s too hot!” I whined. “Like my-fragile-fucking-heart-will-never-get-over-him hot.”