Page 35 of The Best Friend Experiment
Brooke shifted to mirror his pose, propping her own head on her hand. “Even more successful than Steve Raymond, who sells thefancyweed out of his parents’ garage.”
Dylan laughed. They were facing each other, and his head was only a few inches from hers, which meant hismouthwas only a few inches from hers. All she’d have to do was lean forward a little, and her lips would be on his.
“You’re pretty successful yourself,” he said.
Brooke made a face. “Tell that to my bank account.”
“Money isn’t the only measure of success. How many kids want to be marine biologists when they grow up? And you actually did it. That’s amazing.”
The wine must be going to her head, because the way he was looking at her was making her feel things. More than that, it was making her wonder if he was feeling something too.
No. That couldn’t be.
Except.
Maybe…
Dylan’s gaze was heavy-lidded and intense. Full of heat. If it had been anyone else looking at her like that, she’d lay money he was thinking about kissing her.
Brooke drew an unsteady breath and licked her lips.
His eyes went darker, and the room suddenly felt too small, because he wasn’t looking into her eyes anymore.
He was looking at her mouth.
His hand came up, and his fingertips stroked over her cheek in the lightest of butterfly touches.
He was going to kiss her.
Chapter Nine
The air between them seemed to crackle with potential energy.
Dylan was going to kiss her, and Brooke was going to kiss him back.
The cat jumped onto the couch between with a loud “Mur-rowr!” and they startled apart.
“Hey, buddy!” Dylan sat up and shifted away from Brooke to stroke the cat’s back as if nothing had happened—or almost happened. “Who’s my favorite kitty? You are!”
Goddamn cockblocking cat.
Brooke took a long drink of wine. She ought to be grateful the cat had interrupted, or else who knows what might have happened.
Clearly, the two of them and alcohol were a bad combination.
The worst.
Dylan had just gotten through telling her how important their friendship was to him. Did she really want to throw all that away for a drunken hookup they’d both probably regret tomorrow?
This was classic Brooke. Letting herself get swept away in the allure of something new and exciting. But how long would it be before she started to feel trapped? How long before she grew tired of Dylan?
He deserved better than that. He deserved a real partner who could love him and support him andstay with himfor the long haul. They didn’t even live in the same city, for crap’s sake.
She knocked back the rest of her wine and got up to carry her empty glass into the kitchen. Dylan joined her while she was washing her glass, and put the cork back in the half-finished wine bottle.
“You’re not having any more?” she asked, reaching for his empty glass.
He shook his head, avoiding her eyes. “I think I’ve had enough wine tonight.”
