Page 4 of Betting on her Best Friend
Hello, lightbulb. A smile curved her lips as an idea formed. That’s exactly what she needed. A hero to help her get over this one-sided crush, once and for all. A hero with abs so defined she could body surf them all night long, and a smile so perfect that Dylan’s rather endearing lopsided grin would fade in comparison.
And it just so happened she was going to a romance novel convention that would be filled with men who fit that very description. Okay, so they weren’t really heroes, but they played them in photoshoots.
Her solution could be summed up in two words.
Cover. Models.
Alyssa grinned as a new plan took shape. She’d already planned to sin while in Vegas. Hell, she even had the wardrobe for it. All she had to do was put it to good use…and hook herself a cover model for a steamy, no-strings-attached tryst.
Yes, this would work.
She would get over this childhood crush in one hot weekend with another man, and then she and Dylan could go back to their regularly scheduled program. He could stick with his flings, and Alyssa wouldn’t have to develop stomach cramps as each Friday drew near, wondering who the lucky girl would be this week. It was a perfect plan, born of desperation and determination, and it could not fail.
Because if it did… Then this had to end.
Either she finally kicked this one-sided crush, or she’d have to make the even more painful decision to move and put some distance between her and her best friend. She really saw no other choice. Because ending up ten years from now just like her mom, pining for a man who would never love her back, was not an option.
And who knows, maybe this hot cover model would fall madly in love with her, follow her back to Longmont, and she could spend her Friday nights kissing his washboard abs, ridge by glorious ridge. Stranger things have happened, right? With a nod to herself, she rejoined Dylan in the living room.
“What’s with the goofy grin, Aly-gator?” Dylan tipped his bottle up and took a swig of his beer. “You look like the cat that ate the canary.”
“Do I?” Alyssa brought her feet up and tucked her knees to her chest. She tried to affect a facade of innocence but knew she failed miserably.
“Yeah,” he said, “you do. And I know something’s up because every time you think I’m not looking you’re pouring yourself more wine. So, spill it.”
Deflect, hedge, beat around the bush!“I went clothes shopping today.”
He blinked once, then arched an eyebrow. “We need to find you some real excitement if a new wardrobe gets you this amped up.”
“I came to the same conclusion myself the other day—that I need more excitement in my life, more…well, more—which is what prompted my somewhat impromptu shopping spree for my trip tomorrow. Come on, I’ll show you.”
She placed her wineglass on the coffee table and led him to her bedroom where she had everything she’d bought that day laid out on the bed. Matching sets of lace underwear and bras in black, white, and red. A body-hugging, red halter dress that reached a mere few inches below her ass, and a black pair of what the sales lady called fuck-me boots that reached several inches above her knees. Her casual wear consisted of skintight jeans, leggings, and curve-hugging tops.
But her pride and joy hung over the closet door: a white gown she’d purchased for the masquerade ball. Wearing the strapless bodice and floor-length skirt made up of more layers of tulle than a debutante at prom, she’d be a modern-day Cinderella. Not to mention with her fear of never getting married, she was seizing the opportunity to wear a wedding dress under the guise of it being a ball gown. There was nothing wrong with secretly pandering to her inner child.
Alyssa tore her eyes away from her goodies to find a confused look on Dylan’s face.
“You, uh—” He cleared his throat and tried again. “You planning on getting married this weekend?”
“It’s a ball gown.” Well, it is now. “For the masquerade ball Saturday night. I have a mask and everything.”
Still staring at the clothes, he asked, “Why do I get the feeling I’m missing vital information in this story?”
Ignoring the doubts echoing in her head, she decided to tell him her plan. Some part of her really hoped he’d object, profess his undying love, and they could move on to the naked parts of her original fantasy, proving he was wrong about himself and they did have a future together after all. “The other day I read a book where the hero and heroine met at a club and had a one-night stand, which got me thinking—”
His eyes cut up to meet hers. “I thought those books all had ‘and they lived happily ever after’ endings. One-night stands don’t usually fall into that category.”
“That’s just how they got together the first time. Throughout the rest of the book they fall in love and all that, but that’s beside my point.”
“Which is?”
“Which is that there’s more than one way to skin a cat, and not all relationships start with dating websites or meeting through mutual friends. The former being something I will never do, and the latter option offering no prospects since you’re really my only friend and insist you know no one of the slightest worth.”
He crossed his arms and scowled. “Construction guys are all pigs.”
“You’re a construction guy, Dylan.”
“I rest my case,” he said. “Why do you want a relationship so badly right now anyway?”
