Page 28 of Imperfect Match (Imperfect Match 1)
“Say ... you’re friends with a guy, right? And you guys have this really awesome relationship. Almost like, you just get each other. There’s no pretense or expectation, you can just be who you are.”
She nods.
“What if things ... started to ... change?”
“Change how?”
“Just … what if things suddenly felt different? I don’t know, this is stupid.” I stop myself. I’m being dumb. I already know what it means.
It means nothing.
It means that I’m horny and need to get laid.
It means that my friend and I are comfortable around each other, so it only makes sense I’d feel something when we kissed. Besides, it’s been years and I’ve never had this issue before. Maybe it’s all the talk of a baby? That would make perfect sense.
I’m anxious to have a kid and settle into the next phase of my life, and for most women, a man would be the obvious need to complete the picture. So, Reid is the man I’m with the most, therefore my subconscious has chosen him.
Voilà.
Problem solved.
“You have feelings for Reid,” Aspen says with a knowing grin.
My face gets hot. “No, I don’t. Not those feelings.”
“Oh, you liar! I knew it! I knew something was different. Your eyes got all glossy when you were staring at his door.” She walks over, placing her hand on my shoulder and closes her eyes. “And you guys did something!”
How in the hell does she know that? Seriously, I’m not sure if I should even move because she seems so entranced.
“Aspen,” I whine softly and she opens her eyes.
“We have to go,” she announces.
“Go?”
“Yes, get dressed, something covert.”
“Covert?” Now I’m really confused. I grab her arm to stop her. “Aspen, please explain.”
“We don’t have time. Get dressed and be back out in five minutes.” She turns me, slaps me on my butt, and sends me away. “Wear something that won’t stand out.”
Something that won’t stand out? As opposed to her burlap MILK getup?
I have no idea where she thinks we need to go, but I’m terrified.
Thirty minutes later we are in the back of a cab heading for Randolph Street. I must be crazy.
“You’re sure they’re at The Darling?” Aspen asks.
“Positive. I made the reservation.” I put one hand over my stomach. It won’t stop jumping. “But we’re not going to be able to get in without one.”
“Just leave that to me and stay quiet.”
We exit the cab and walk down the block toward the bar, our heels clicking on the sidewalk. Since I assume there’s a dress code at The Darling, I made her change at my place, and after looking at photos of the bar’s interior online, we decided on shades of dark brown and deep red. Our goal is to blend in. Go undercover. Spy on Reid and his date.
Okay, stalk them.
But I have myself nearly convinced I’m doing it for research purposes—just to make sure things are going okay with my project. Reid really cannot be trusted not to mess this up.
