Page 44

Sweet and attentive under that gruff, tattooed exterior. As big as a mountain. Hot as hell. Spectacular in bed. Wentworth Fiorella is damn-near perfect.
When she doesn’t say anything, I look away from her. “He dumped me,” I tell her because I’m in a mood and she’s being entirely too polite. “Said he couldn’t be with me because I’m still hung up on Declan.”
“Are you?”
This time I don’t look at her. “Yes.” It’s the truth. I am. If I can say it out loud to anyone, it’s Henley. Once upon a time, the two of us were close. As close as Con and I are now. The problem is that I can’t talk to Con about this stuff without him freaking out on me.
“Have you considered telling him how you feel?” She’s choosing her words carefully, like she’s picking her way through a minefield. “Maybe he—”
“Can you take me home instead of back to the garage?” I say, cutting her off completely. “I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to wear to Cari’s opening and I need to scrape off about nine layers of engine dust if I’m going to have even a hope of looking and smelling like a human woman.”
“Sure.” She bobs her head before flashing a tight smile in my direction. “Actually, I have something that might help.”
She doesn’t say anything else for a few minutes. Long enough for her to pull up in front of my building. When I get out, Henley pops her trunk and climbs out with me. Before I can ask her what she’s doing, she lifts her trunk lid and I see it.
“No way.” I shake my head and reach up to grab the lip of the trunk so I can slam it shut. “There’s no way I’m going to—”
“Yes you are,” Henley says, slapping my hand away from her trunk. “You want to know why?” She reaches into the space and lifts out the large gift-wrapped box and bag from the floor of it, stacking one on top of the other. “Because I want to see that bitch’s face tonight when you walk into Cari’s opening wearing this dress.” She shoves both at me, giving me no choice but to accept them.
“Henley—” I shake my head at her, feeling helpless. “This dress cost three grand.” I lift myself onto the toes of my boots and peer into the open bag. “And shoes? Jesus Christ, why do you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you.” She slams the lid to her trunk closed. “I hate Jessica and I want very much to watch her swallow her own tongue.”
I can’t really argue with that. Henley might actually hate her more than I do. Still... “Hen.” I shake my head, prepared to push my salvation back into her arms. “I—”
“Declan is going to be there with her.” She pins me with a look that stops me in my tracks. “She’s going to look gorgeous and hang off his arm and make shitty, back-handed comments about the rest of us while she simpers and coos at him like he’s a fucking lapdog.” This isn’t polite, formal Henley anymore. This is the girl I grew up with. My best friend and she’s fired up. “So you’re going to take one for the team and put on the dress because if I have to watch and listen to her narcissistic bullshit for five more fucking minutes, I might actually kill her and then I’ll go to prison.” She shakes her head at me, pointing a finger at her freckled face. “Look at me, Tess—there is no way I can pull of correctional facility orange with my complexion.”
It takes her mouth twitching into a smile for me to realize she’s kidding.
“Fine,” I laugh, shaking my head at her. “I’ll take the dress, but I’m going to figure out a way to pay you back and when I do, you’re taking my money.”
She stares at me for a second before she gives me a nod, like the matter is settled. “We’ll jump off the bridge when we get to it.”