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“Fuckin’ with you. Not for three hours.”
I flopped back down on the bed and gave him the finger. “You’re a jerk.”
“Not a psycho?”
Rolling my head to look at him, my eyes caught on the smirk that pulled at his lips.
God, he’s charming.
How bad could danger really be?
“No, you’re that, too,” I said, standing and turning away before I did something stupid.
Like admitting I missed him touching me.
Like asking him to kiss me.
Like allowing myself to sink into the mayhem he brought to my life.
Judge’s heat hit my back as he stopped close. “Casual bar. Lots of bikers, rockers. Low-key.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, surprised he’d thought to tell me since I hadn’t even thought to ask. But that kind of info was vital to me deciding what to wear.
My eyes landed on the bags of personal care items and even personal-er underwear. My dry skin was screaming for some moisturizer, but I’d yet to dip into the pretties. And, other than the most basic and comfortable underthings, I hadn’t dipped into the fun or sexy underwear, either.
And it was fun and sexy. He’d clearly noted my preference when he’d been in my apartment. I’d always loved the feminine feel that came from wearing something cute or sexy under my clothes. That had grown when I’d gotten hired at Elder Oaks because nurses had to wear the same gray-blue scrubs.
But underneath? I was bright and wild or soft and pretty.
On principle, I’d left the bags mostly untouched, but I was going to a rocker bar. For my own comfort, I couldn’t roll in looking like I’d rolled out… of bed. I didn’t want to be self-conscious and miserable the whole time.
It had nothing to do with wanting to look good for Judge. Or that we were going to a place his friend owned.
At least, that’s what I told myself because, clearly, I didn’t have Judge’s hang-up about lying.
Grabbing the massive bag of toiletries and makeup, I pretended not to see Judge or his victorious smirk as I walked to the bathroom with my head held high.
_______________
Lifting onto my tiptoes, I checked myself out in the mirror above the sink.
After taking entirely too long in the shower, I’d rushed back into the bedroom, relieved that it and the hallway had both been empty since I’d only been wrapped in a towel. Since most of what he’d packed had been skirts, simple skinny jeans—with strategically designed rips, not worn ones—and a black, scoop neck tee had been the most casual outfit. I only had my slip-on canvas shoes, so that choice had been easy.
Already in for a penny by using the luxury toiletries, I’d gone all in for a pound with the undies—zeroing in on the strappy hot pink set I’d forced myself to ignore when I’d been sticking to the basics.
The lacey covered cups were delicate and pretty, but the straps that crossed over the swells of my breasts made it edgy and sexy—especially since they were still visible with my shirt on.
Doing my makeup had taken the longest, mostly because I’d wanted to use everything all at once, and that just wasn’t possible… Well, not unless I wanted to look like a clown.
I’d narrowed it down to only a fifth of the products, and I was happy with the results. I looked good. More importantly, I felt like myself.
Excitement bubbling through my veins like champagne, I made my way into the family room to look for Judge. Finding it empty, I was walking toward the kitchen when my eyes landed on the back hallway. At the top of the small set of stairs, I saw the meeting room.
And I was able to see said meeting room thanks to the partially open door.
Scanning for anyone, I slowly side-stepped in that direction. And then I stepped a little faster.
And then I speed-walked.
