Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,73

… not so much. He considered his hard-on and decided Dyma was just going to have to deal with it, because there wasn’t much he could do about it, and said, “Well, we were going to get to it eventually.”

“Sorry, man,” Owen said. He was trying not to laugh, clearly. “I did text you. Guess you weren’t paying attention.”

“Nope,” Harlan said. He wanted to say, When you tell a guy you’re going shopping and swimming and out to eat, you’re damn well supposed to stay gone for at least a couple hours. He didn’t say it, though. Owen knew it. This had to be Dyma.

He couldn’t wait to hear the explanation.

Jennifer’s hand was in her hair, trying to smooth it down. The hand that wasn’t holding the edges of her robe together. She said, “We were just …”

“Yeah, Mom,” Dyma said. “I’m not even going to let you figure out how to finish that sentence. Sorry. I had to come back and grab some clean underwear. Owen bought me a really cute crochet bikini. It’s a very pale pink and has this fringe of pearls and puka shells, and it cost more than two hundred dollars, which you’d probably object to, except, wait, you let a guy take you to a resort for the night on a private jet, so …”

Jennifer said, “Excuse me. Underwear?” She didn’t say, “Owen didn’t take you lingerie shopping, too, while he was at it?” Harlan could tell she wanted to, though.

“Except,” Dyma said, “on the way back, my period started. Surprise! Owen was cool about it when I told him, which I’ve decided is why I’m glad I won’t be dating high-school guys much longer, but I can tell I’m kind of a mess, and it’s a little hard to enjoy a romantic evening with a guy when you’re thinking about your bloody underwear, so …” She made an airy gesture. “Here we are. Also, do you have an Advil? I’ve got cramps.”

Harlan said, “You know, girls in North Dakota weren’t nearly this forthcoming.”

“Well, that was a long time ago,” Dyma said.

He had to laugh. “Point taken.”

“Also,” she said, “period shame is just about the definition of misogynistic, so if you’ve got a problem with it, I figure it’s your problem. We all get born because women’s uteruses prepare themselves for implantation, and we shouldn’t have to hide our tampons up our sleeves or make up cute little euphemisms or spend five days in the menstruation hut so men don’t have to think about that. Also, I guess Owen had better not be planning on getting lucky tonight.”

“Dyma …” Jennifer said.

Owen said, “I’ve got a couple answers to that. I’m just going to say them right now, because your mom might want to hear them, and then I think it would be a real good idea for us to get out of here pronto. First, did I seem bothered? I’m an offensive lineman. I’m also a cattle rancher. If a little thing like a woman having her period was going to bother me—in any situation, let’s just say—I’d need to find some different lines of work. Second, I wasn’t planning on getting lucky tonight. I thought I’d made that pretty clear. I don’t sleep with high-school girls. I’m saying that again, since we’re being open. And third …” This time, he hesitated, and Harlan took a good hard look at him. If Owen was hesitating, this next part was going to be really special. He wasn’t exactly the mysterious type. He was right out there. Kind of like Dyma.

Who chose this moment to snuggle up to Owen, pull his head down, kiss his mouth in a way that wasn’t going to be helping him with his resolutions much, and breathe out, “I like you so much.”

He cleared his throat and set her on her feet, since he’d somehow lifted her all the way off them during that kiss. With one arm. On the other hand, he could probably bench-press two of her without any problem. “Right,” he said. “That brings me to the third thing, which I might regret saying, but I’m going to do it anyway. You’ve got a prom or something coming up, right?”

“Uh …” she said. “Right. End of next month. It’s probably an outmoded custom, but it’s prom, so there you go.”

“I think you’d better plan on going with me.”

For once, Miss Dynamite was lost for words. “What?”

Owen said, “I find I don’t much care for the idea of all