“What did he do?” Dean demands in a low voice. “And how bad of a beat-down does he deserve? Me and Garrett can handle our own in a fight, but if you want some bone-crushing, we can unleash Logan on him.”
“Nobody is crushing anybody’s bones, dumbass. Sean didn’t do anything terrible, and I don’t need you to beat him up. The only thing I want you to do is take this stupid phone.” I shove my cell phone in Dean’s hand. “Keep it away from me this weekend, okay? Only give it back if my dad calls. Or Hannah and Stella. And Meg and—you know what? I’ll check it a few times a day under your supervision. That way you can slap me if I try to text Sean.”
Dean looks intrigued. “So I’m…what, your relationship sponsor? I’m the one who makes sure you don’t fall off the wagon?”
“Yep. Congratulations, you finally get to do something worthwhile with your time,” I say sarcastically.
He tips his head. “What do I get in return?”
“The satisfaction of knowing you’re helping someone other than yourself?”
“Naah. How about a BJ? I’ll do it for a BJ.”
I give him the finger. “You wish.”
“Fine, an HJ.”
“Don’t be a dick. Please. I have no willpower when it comes to Sean.”
As if on cue, the phone buzzes in Dean’s hand, and my first instinct is to try to grab it. He swiftly takes a step back, then glances at the screen. “It’s Sean.” His mouth quivers in amusement. “He misses the taste of your lips.”
My heart does a painful flip. “Another rule—you’re not allowed to tell me what he says.”
“You’re giving me a lot of responsibility here, baby doll. I don’t like responsibility.”
Shocker. “You can handle this, baby doll. I have faith in you.”
Dean takes one final drag of the joint, then snuffs it out in the ashtray and heads for the glass sliding door. God, even the way he walks is arrogant. And he looks good doing it. My gaze unwittingly rests on his taut ass and the way his sweatpants cling to it. Yep, I’m checking out his ass. I mean, it’s a spectacular ass, and I’m a woman—how could I not?
“You’re going about this the wrong way, you know. The best way to get over someone is to hook up with someone else. ASAP.”
His words jolt me out of my butt-ogling. “I’m not ready to be with anyone else yet.”
“Sure you are. Seriously, just find yourself a rebound.” Dean whips up his arm. “I volunteer as tribute.”
A laugh flies out. “Dream on.”
But in the back of my mind, I’m considering the suggestion. A rebound isn’t a terrible idea, actually. It’s like falling off a horse—people always advise you to immediately get back on, right? Maybe that’s what I should do, hop right back in the saddle. If anything, it’ll be a good distraction from the ache in my heart.
I definitely won’t be doing it with Dean, though. Nope, I’d rather find a saddle that hasn’t already been ridden by every girl at Briar.
“We’ll put a pin in it,” he decides.
“If by that you mean sticking a pin in this stupid idea balloon and deflating it, then sure, let’s put a pin in it.”
Dean stops at the door and turns, his green eyes doing a seductive sweep from my head down to my toes. “Actually, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of rebounding you.” His gaze lingers on my chest. “I like the idea a lot.”
I stifle a groan. “Garrett promised that you wouldn’t hit on me this weekend.”
“G knows better than to make promises on my behalf,” Dean answers with a grin. Then he beckons me. “So are we watching this movie or what?”
I follow him inside. My mind feels foggy from the weed, but in a good way, and when Dean stops in the hall to hike up the sweatpants that are about to fall off his trim hips, for some reason I start giggling as if it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.
My humor fades when we settle on the couch, because Dean flops down directly beside me, slings one muscular arm around my shoulders, and tugs me close. As if it’s totally normal.
I frown at him. “Why is your arm around me?”
His expression is all innocence. “This is how I watch movies.”
“Really? So you put your arm around Garrett when you watch movies with him?”
“Absolutely. And if he’s nice to me, sometimes I slide my hand down his pants.” Dean’s other hand skims down to the waistband of my leggings. “Be nice to me, and I promise I’ll be even nicer in return.”
“Ha. Not happening.” I shove his hand away, but not before a spark of heat ignites between my legs. His bare chest is glorious, and it’s taunting me, begging my fingers to stroke all those roped muscles. And he smells really good. Like the ocean. No, like coconut. I’m feeling way too loopy to pinpoint the scent, but not loopy enough that I don’t register how my pussy is still tingling like crazy.
Oh, for crying out loud. My sex life must have really gone to the shitter if I’m getting all tingly in the presence of Dean Di Laurentis.
“What else do we have to do?” he counters.
I point to the TV. “Watch a movie.”