A flash of red caught his eye, and Adam turned to see Abby come into the bar in a formfitting red dress with a neckline that left very little to the imagination. Her dark hair was shiny under the lights, her lips glossy and red, her smile wide as she recognized one of the men she’d flirted with the night before and accepted a hug from him.

Adam gripped the back of his chair tighter to keep from getting up and making another scene that she wouldn’t appreciate. He knew a tiny bit of relief when she pointed at the table where he sat with his parents and disentangled from the octopus.

“I still can’t believe you’ve got six kids,” the guy said in a booming voice that could be heard throughout the crowded bar. “You’re one smoking-hot mama!”

On that, he and Adam agreed.

Only when she started toward their corner table was Adam able to tear his gaze off her and close his mouth, which had fallen open when she made her entrance. He glanced over to find his parents watching him very closely.

“Just hanging out, my ass,” his dad muttered the second before Abby arrived at their table.

The dress was way too much for drinks with the McCarthys. Abby had come to this conclusion about halfway down the stairs to the lobby. She’d known a moment of hesitation when she put it on, but after the time she’d spent with Tiffany today, she was determined to be a newer, better version of her old self. Even though the dress was too much, Adam’s reaction to it had been absolutely perfect and worth every cent she’d spent at Naughty & Nice.

“Self-confidence is the key,” Tiffany had said. “If you feel confident, you’ll project that to others.”

The red dress made Abby feel confident about walking into that bar to meet Adam and his parents, who must be wondering what they were doing together. Would they disapprove? And if they did? Would she care? Would he?

Stop it. That’s not helping your confidence.

What did wonders for her self-confidence was the greeting she received from Les—or was it Len?—one of the guys she’d met the night before who made a big deal out of her when she walked into the bar. He greeted her with a hug and a suggestive smile.

“You look amazing, baby. Are you sure you’re married?”

“Afraid so,” Abby said, relieved to rely on the cover story Adam had concocted for her. “My husband is right over there with his parents, and he’s the jealous sort.”

“If I had a wife who looked like you, I’d be the jealous sort, too.”