“How did it go?” Brianna asks me. “When I walked in on you guys, it looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

We’re in my bedroom and I'm getting the clothes ready that I'm going to wear for my trip. I packed a lot of nice dresses, and now I’ve got a problem. I might have packed some nice things, but I’ve got to do some shopping to get a few more outfits that would be more in line with what my mom would expect.

Peering at myself in the mirror, I spin around and place my hands on my hips, fixing Brianna with a scowl. “I don't appreciate your sending me in there unarmed. He was an asshole.”

Brianna lets out a laugh. “Unarmed? What did you want to go in there with? A shotgun? I’ve never known a man you couldn’t wrap around your finger in about two minutes flat,” she says with a snap of her fingers.

I shrug. “I dunno. A big fat dildo, maybe? So I could’ve shoved it up his cocky ass.”

“Mindy!” Brianna protests. “What did I tell you about these words around Rafe? You can't be saying those things! He’s started repeating every new word that he hears!”

“Sorry, Rafey,” I say to the little boy who's sitting atop a mountain of my discarded clothes, playing with one of my sports bras.

I get lucky, as he seems to have ignored my foul mouth and instead pulls one of my sports bras on top of his head. “Look, Mommy! I’m a Duacone!”

“A what?” I ask, giving Bri a glance.

“Cartoon,” Brianna says with a chuckle before looking back at me. “Still . . . why so mad?”

“Are you kidding? I was sweating bullets before I even walked in there!” I say, my face flushing. “He wasn’t what I expected, and I’m just frustrated that he was able to get the upper hand on me.”

“And I . . .” I clench my fists, my breath tight in my throat. “He got to me, okay?”

Brianna’s jaw drops. “I can't believe I’m hearing this. Aren’t you supposed to be Miss Fearless? The woman who takes life by the balls?”

“Balls,” echoes Rafey. “I like balls!”

I mock-scold Brianna, sticking out my tongue. “Wanna tell me where your son gets his bad language again?”

Brianna scowls at me. “I’m so going to kill you.”

I spread my arms defensively as Brianna glares murder at me. “I just wish you would’ve told me.”

“Told you what?” Brianna asks, trying hard to be mad but looking like she wants to burst into laughter.

I gesture sharply, leaning in to whisper so Rafe can’t hear. “That he was hot as fuck!”

Bri looks at me out of the side of her eyes before she shakes her head. “How was I supposed to know? I’d never met him.”

“I don't believe you,” I say. “You did that on purpose.”

Brianna looks genuinely hurt. “I swear to you, I didn't. I never saw him before I walked into the room with Gavin. It was his idea.”

I look into my best friend’s eyes to see she’s telling the truth, and I sigh, shaking my head but not smiling yet. “Never mind that. I seriously don't know how I’m going to live a week with that guy without killing him.”

Brianna glances at Rafe, who’s now quite happily turning my Under Armour sports bras into hand puppets, and leads me into my connecting bathroom. “Was he that bad?”

“You’re damn right!” I growl, letting go for the first time. “You wanna know what he told me?”

“What?”

My hand goes to my throat, remembering his deep voice and the way that it both pissed me off and turned me on. “Basically, that he would do anything to me that he wants since we’re supposed to be engaged.”

Brianna gapes. “He did not!”

I nod, my skin flushed. It pisses me off that I’m getting hot thinking about it.

Brianna thinks for a minute, then chuckles. “Well shit, you said he’s hot, right? That should be right up your alley.”

I glower at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Brianna shrugs, leaning against the bathroom wall and grinning. “I recall a certain person urging me to sleep with Gavin when I barely knew him.”

“But this is different,” I protest. “Gavin was sweet. He wanted to court you, treat you like a princess. This guy . . .” I shake my head as the curl of his cocky lips appears in my mind. Oh, what those lips could do to my . . .

I shove the treasonous thoughts away, my chest heaving. “He’s different. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“You all right?” Brianna teases, raising an eyebrow. “Feeling a little hot in here? Need a cold shower or two?”

I wave her off. “I’ll be fine.”

“Mmmhmm,” Brianna replies. “So, should I close the door behind me so you can break out your purple friend?”

I scowl. “Please. He might be hot, but he’s not that hot.”

I smile, and we both start laughing at how bad my lie was. “I might need to take it with me though,” I admit. “We’re going to have to fake all this affection. From what he says, he’s not exactly worried about keeping his hands to himself, but with how he was talking to me, I’m not about to sleep with him.”

Right then, I see Rafey pull out a red number from the pile of clothes, a dress I bought years ago but have never worn. Even for me, it’s pretty sexy and flirty.

“Oh, Rafey, I can just kiss you,” I say, rushing over and grabbing it from him, but he hangs on like a toddler will. He giggles as I tickle him and deliver kisses to his head, letting go of the dress and letting me snatch it up without any more trouble.

I rush back to the bathroom and pull it on. It doesn’t go with the undies I’m wearing today and I’m not wearing heels, but it gives me an idea. I come back out, spreading my arms and twirling a few times for Brianna. “How do I look?”

Brianna’s eyes go wide. “I think you know how you look.”

“Good,” I say with a naughty grin, the plan cooking up in my head on the fly, “because I’m going to wear this tomorrow to meet Oliver.”

Brianna looks at me like she’s about ready to call the psych ward. “Seriously? You just said you weren’t going to sleep with him, but then you’re gonna wear something like that? Don’t make me say what that dress is screaming. Not with Rafe around.”

I make a face, wiggling my butt in Bri’s direction as I check myself in the mirror. I know the heels I need to wear with this. They’d make me . . . oh, yeah. “I’m not gonna sleep with him. But two can play his game.”

“Right,” Brianna says. She grins as she gets the point of my plan. “You’re going to grab the bull by his horn.”

“More or less,” I say as I place my hands on my hips, admiring the dress that hugs my curves like Saran Wrap. Oh, I most certainly fucking will.