Page 30 of Pressure Point

“It’s very pretty,” he said, scrambling for an answer. This was the second time in the last half hour she’d interrupted his dirty thoughts, and he knew he needed to knock it off. He needed one hell of a cold shower and fast. Think of something, dude. What would Orla have carried on about when it came to this kind of thing? “Does that color go with the dress?”

Yes, that was the right question.

“I’m not sure…” Avery commented.

“Your boyfriend is right,” a sweet-looking middle-aged woman said, walking up to them. “With your coloring and that dress he’s holding, Magnificent Mulberry isn’t the color you want to go with. You’d want something a little softer.”

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend,” Avery offered, not skipping a beat.

And there’s the cold shower…

* * *

That was not what she meant to say.

It's not like it was untrue—he wasn't her boyfriend. Unless they were getting technical, because he was a boy, who was a friend. But Avery could pretty much guarantee that was not how the saleslady had meant it.

She had not meant to blurt that out though. Especially since her mind was still stuck on whatever that was back in the fitting room. Despite all her efforts to focus on the plethora of beauty products laid out in front of her, all Avery could do was think about that almost kiss. There needed to be a word for that. For that feeling when you are so drawn to someone, you feel like two magnets pulling toward each other. Maybe there was a word for it and she was just unaware. Hell, she’d never felt anything like that until today.

But why was she feeling it with Liam? Shouldn’t she be feeling that way with Dash? Of course, she hadn’t been anywhere near as physically close to Dash as she had Liam. That must be it. It was just a proximity thing. Once she and Dash were in a similar situation, she would feel it all over again. She knew it.

“I assume this is the dress you’ll be wearing?” the saleslady asked, pointing to the garment Liam had slung over his shoulder and thankfully not acknowledging Avery’s word vomit. Avery nodded, afraid that if she opened her mouth again, that something even more inept would come out. “Then my suggestion would be a cool tone—like a medium pink. Like this one.”

Plucking one of the small cylinders from the display, the lady gently scraped some of the color onto a disposable applicator and handed it to Avery. She took it, feeling more than a little self-conscious about putting it on, but turned to the table mirror to her right, and spread it across her lips. It went on easy enough, and when she was done, she could hardly believe her eyes.

The soft, yet vibrant color made her lips seem to pop against her skin. Even without anything else on her face, her green eyes stood out more, the few freckles on her nose disappearing. Turning to look over at Liam, she tried to smile as naturally as possible. The corner of his mouth tugged upward, and his blue eyes darkened a bit as his gaze trained in on her mouth. Damn, she hoped that was a good sign.

“Totally kissable,” he said, swallowing hard. Avery watched his Adam’s apple bob, and it made her stomach do a little flip. For a split second she considered pulling him down to her level, testing out the staying power of the lipstick, but then thought better of it. She didn’t need to lean in to whatever this weirdness was that kept floating through her about Liam. She needed to focus on finding her sexy for Dash.

“Christina Hendricks would call that color candy apple, but Atira calls it Fire and Rain. I don’t know who names these things, but I kind of want to be them when I grow up,” the saleslady joked. “What else do you need?”

“Err, everything?” Avery said sheepishly.

The older woman simply smiled and led Avery over to a chair, where they proceeded to spend the next thirty minutes going over what seemed like five hundred different products she’d never heard of. Every now and then, she’d sneak a glance over at Liam, who was leaned against the counter just watching her. Heat washed over her every time their eyes met, making her look away quickly. He seemed so content just to stand there and watch, not once complaining about being bored or asking how much longer this was going to take. Either he was a saint, or that ex-girlfriend of his trained him well. Potentially both.

“I still need shoes,” she reminded him when she was all done at the Atira counter.

“I didn’t forget.”

“I need something sexy. Something that will make me tall!” Dipping into the shoe section, she picked up a platinum-colored high heel that had such a thin heel that it looked like it could double as a murder weapon.

Liam took the shoe from her, rolling his eyes, and placed it back down on the table. “How about we go with something you can walk in?”

“You’re no fun,” she teased, mockingly sticking her tongue out at him.

“So I’ve heard,” he commented. “Your boyfriend doesn’t call me padre for nothing.”

“He’s not my boyfriend…yet.”

The idea of Dash being her boyfriend made her feel giddy. The last time she remembered being this excited over just the possibility of something was when she had sent off applications to physical therapy school. Just the thought that she was that much closer to achieving something she’d worked so hard for was thrilling. In a weird way, it was the same with Dash. She was working so hard to be noticed, and knowing that it could really happen filled her with glee.

Sure, there was the issue of what they would talk about when they did finally go on a date. Avery wasn’t really up-to-date on what Dash’s interests were—other than Talia and partying—but wasn’t that what dates were for? To get to know people? She was positive that deep down they must have plenty in common—they just needed to figure out what it was.

She grabbed a pair of simple black heels, ones that were much shorter than what she had been holding a moment ago, with less of an ice pick for a heel, and wiggled them in the air for Liam to see. He nodded and shrugged at the same time, and she couldn’t help but laugh as she shook her head in exasperation. Shoes were not his thing—noted.

“Black goes with everything, right?” she asked, sitting down on one of the chairs and slipping off her sneakers.

“That is the rumor,” he said, placing the bag full of makeup and the dress down on the chair next to her. He remained standing and looked even taller than normal from this angle. For the first time, Avery noticed just how his T-shirt stretched over his broad chest and well-defined shoulders, making him look like he was in some kind of billboard ad. She knew exactly what his chest looked like—she’d worked on his shoulder just a week or so ago—but she’d never taken the time to appreciate just how it looked in something as simple as a cotton tee.