Eligible Receiver (Men of Fall #3)- S.R. Grey Page 0,15
than a fancy dinner. I should’ve suggested that to begin with. Anyway, how did it go?”
“It went great.” I start smiling like crazy. I just can’t help it. “We got along really well.”
Lifting a billowy dress out of a box, Jodi raises a brow. “Does that mean you kissed him again?”
“No!” I grab the dress from her and place it on a hanger. “We decided it’s best if we stay friends.”
Jodi snorts. “Friends, huh? Is this his idea or yours?”
“It’s mine,” I snap, huffing.
I’m trying to remain resolute in my decision, but Jodi knows me far too well. Even she can see I’m not thrilled with the direction I’m taking on this.
“Becca,” she says on a sigh. “What the hell kind of stupid idea is that? You like Lars, right?” I nod weakly, and she goes on. “I thought so. I mean, clearly you liked him enough to attack him at the movie theatre.”
“Hey!”
Jodi ignores me, adding with a sly wink, “You also know for sure now that he’s not a serial killer.”
“Ha ha.” I roll my eyes.
She thinks she’s so funny.
But Jodi grows serious when she says, “Come on, Becca. Be honest. What’s the real problem here?”
Ugh, I hate that I can never hide anything from her.
But really, I kind of do want to talk about my misgivings with someone.
After all, she is my best friend.
“Okay, here goes nothing.” Placing my head in my hands, I admit, “The fact that there is no problem is the problem.”
“Huh?” I look up to find Jodi frowning. “What does that even mean, you goofball?”
“It means I want to protect my heart, okay? Lars is a gorgeous pro football player. He can have anyone he wants.”
“But he wants you,” Jodi states quietly.
I shake my head. “No, he just wants to fuck me at this point. I’m sure that’s the truth of it. He doesn’t know me well enough to want me for me.”
I know I have her there, so I underline my point by standing and forcefully hanging up the dress I’ve been clutching onto. I place a plastic covering over the damn thing, rather noisily, to add exclamation to what I’m saying.
By the time I sit back down on the floor, Jodi is staring at me concernedly.
“What?” I ask. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You know, you’re scaring me,” she says, leaning back on one of the unopened boxes. “I don’t want to see you missing out.”
“Missing out?” I chortle. “Yeah, right. Missing out on heartbreak and despair? Yeah, no, I think I’ll pass.”
“Becca, it’s not heartbreak and despair I’m talking about. Sure, there’s always a chance you could get hurt. It’s that way for everyone when you open yourself up to love. But what I’m talking about is something else entirely, something applicable to you in this situation.”
“Jeez, you’re so dramatic.” I blow out a breath. “Enlighten me, Jodi, please. What am I potentially missing out on?”
Holding my gaze, she says, “Possibility, Becca. You could be missing out on real possibility.”
Shit, she’s got me there.
Drowning in Dresses
By two o’clock on Sunday afternoon, I’m fucking drowning in wedding dresses. I’ve never seen so much lace and silk and something Becca tells me is called “tulle.”
What the fuck is tulle?
Of course, she finds all of this hilarious.
Laughing, as she stands above where I’m seated on the floor of her shop, surrounded by mounds of wedding gowns, she says, “I should grab my phone and take a picture of this.”
“Don’t you dare,” I warn.
“Aw, come on. We could put it on your Instagram and title it ‘Marriage Material.’”
Whoa, what?
We look at each other.
Becca is blushing like crazy.
But I start smiling.
“Thanks for the compliment,” I say.
Scrambling to recover from her faux pas, she says, “Er, uh, I was only trying to think of something witty.”
Yeah, sure you were.
That’s okay.
Let her play it cool.
When I try to catch her gaze, Becca pretends to be deeply interested in a tag on a dress.
Stirring the pot a little, I ask, “Whatcha looking at?”
Still examining the tag, even more closely now, she mumbles, “I’m just checking out the SKU number. I think this one is wrong.”
Ha, yeah right.
I bet you a million dollars it’s fine.
But, whatever.
I drop the subject and let her check out the supposedly incorrect tag in peace.
She looks so cute standing there in her tight blue jeans and black hoodie over a white tee, pretending to be preoccupied. There’s a hint of pink shading her cheeks, making her even more desirable.
Damn it.
If we weren’t