Matching Mr. Right(35)

“Nope.”

When they got to Jo’s parents’ house, cars lined the sidewalk for two solid blocks. Everyone in Denver must be at the party. Greg had always been a popular guy.

Shelby had no intention of ruining her hair by walking in the wind and rain for a half mile, so she pulled up to her aunt and uncle’s house next door and parked under their large portico. “Let’s make a dash for it.”

Shelby linked arms with Jo, ducked under their umbrella, and made a run for the gate in the wall that separated their properties. Just as they’d both done a thousand times in their haste to tell each other the latest news, or to gossip about boys when they were kids. Thankfully, once they crossed the side yard, the kitchen door was unlocked and they stepped inside.

After they greeted Jo’s mom, who was organizing the servers in the kitchen, Jo wandered off to talk to one of their girlfriends while Shelby went on the hunt for Greg. Normally he was easy to spot because he was so tall, but Shelby, being particularly short and in a huge crowd of people, couldn’t find him. She needed to move to higher ground.

She climbed the stairs to the catwalk that overlooked the cavernous great room on one side and the dining room that could seat twenty on the other. From above she finally spotted the top of Greg’s head leaning close to a woman whose giant breasts threatened to spill out of her flimsy top. She’d recognize those bazookas anywhere, as would half the guys from their high school class. Most had handled them back in the day. They belonged to Shelby’s high school nemesis, Tiffany Baker.

Shelby’s courage took a hike. She felt like a fourteen-year-old again. How could she compete against Tiffany, a girl who got any guy she set her sights on?

Crossing the catwalk to Jo’s old bedroom, Shelby slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She turned on the light, made her way to Jo’s bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

She needed to man up. Her plan was going to work, it had to. Greg was different from most guys. He had a serious and deep side that compelled him to volunteer his time and talent for others. He’d never be swayed by a big set of cha-chas.

She hoped.

After swiping more lip gloss on, she threw her shoulders back and walked out of Jo’s old room. She’d waited two years for this moment and she would not fail. Besides, maybe she’d killed enough time so that Tiffany had moved on to her next victim.

From her perch above, Shelby found Greg again. Thankfully, he was talking to the neighborhood guys, so it was time to make her move. She headed for the stairs, and just as her foot hit the bottom rung her aunt called out, “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

She’d known her aunt and uncle would be at the party, but she’d hoped to say hello and then avoid them for the rest of the evening. “Hi, how are you?” She peered past her aunt’s shoulder to find Greg, but he was gone again, dammit. He was a freaking moving target.

“Exhausted after the auction, but recovered now.” She took Shelby’s arm and motored her in the direction of the dining room. “There’s someone here you need to meet. His mother plays tennis with me at the club, and he’s an investment banker. His name is James Worthy.”

Shelby dug in her heels, halting their forward progress. “Not tonight. I’m supposed to meet someone else here.”

Her aunt’s gaze burned a hot trail of disapproval from Shelby’s head to her shoes. “Dressed like . . . that? You’re sending the wrong message with that outfit, Shelby. You’re of the age now that you need to start worrying about settling down. And we both know that your pool of men to choose from is limited because of your legs. Men don’t seriously date girls dressed like you, they just want to sleep with them.”

“Awesome, because that’s the plan! I need a drink, excuse me.”

Her aunt’s mouth gaped as Shelby brushed passed her on the way to the bar. She’d probably pay for that remark later, but it’d been worth it to see the look on her aunt’s face.

Shelby ordered two beers and while she waited, scanned the crowd again for Greg. She heard him but couldn’t see him, so she accepted her beers and made her way toward his voice. Showtime.

Ignoring the voice in her head that laughed at her, like Nick had about Greg only wanting to play football with her, she powered her feet forward. Suddenly the crowd parted and there he was. Smiling and laughing with . . . Tiffany. Again? The woman was a leech.

Before she could decide what to do, someone called out, “Hey, Shelby, looking good.” Ben, one of the neighborhood guys she’d grown up with—and Greg’s best friend, held out his hand.