Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Drink?” I ask. “Lots of reason to celebrate after that performance. You were fucking Oscar worthy.”
“No need to lie.” She laughs numbly and shakes her head, playing with the hem of her blouse nervously. She’s dressed in what I’d call business chic.
Luis suggested she dress up, but I prefer it this way.
Just her, without any artificial glamour to throw her off kilter.
If we’re going to play this game, then we should cling to the truth as much as possible to avoid complications.
She’s agreed to move forward with my bullshit, and she deserves a seamless experience.
“I’m going to order some dinner,” I say casually from the kitchen, pulling a few water bottles from the fridge.
Then I change my mind and grab two beers instead.
Hell, we deserve them.
Lena’s gaze flicks toward me. She’s always had a frosty look, like she’s ready to judge me then and there.
A little unsettling.
I also must be all over the damn place from kissing her. I can’t help noticing the way her lips purse, begging to be claimed like a treasure.
I hate that it makes carving the mental distance I need harder.
The softness of her mouth, the way she whimpers, the shy and willing flutter of her tongue on mine.
I’m lucky that video ended when it did. Two seconds longer and the wrong angle, and some joker on the internet probably would’ve noticed the hard-on I couldn’t hide.
“Takeout? What are you having?”
“Mm.” I scroll through the list of restaurants. “I was thinking Thai, but we could do whatever you want.”
She tilts her head as she thinks, her hair piling over one shoulder. That chestnut hair looks like pure velvet, a few natural red highlights coming through as the evening light catches it.
I think I’m fucking jealous of the light for the first time in my life. I want to thread my fingers through her hair instead.
Ridiculous.
This is all an act, and I’d better remember it.
“Thai’s good,” she murmurs.
“Great.” I pull out my phone, open the delivery app, and toss it over. She catches it right before it smacks her in the face. “Sorry. Bad aim. Get whatever you want.”
The beer foams as I crack it open, and I try not to down it in two gulps.
Shit.
I know it’s a summer evening, somewhere in the eighties for temperature, but it’s never this hot in here. I normally don’t crank the AC up unless it’s really oppressive. At this rate, I feel like I need a cold shower to avoid turning into a sticky mess.
I can’t blame it on summer. Having her this close does terrible things to me.
Until the park, I didn’t know how soft Lena Joly could be.
Who knew that a woman who spits fire daily could be all silk, her curves supple and wickedly proportioned to make the barbs on her tongue worth it.
Yeah, there’s more to her than most of the women I’ve dated. This natural look pairs with a take-no-shit energy that hounds me to do diabolical things to her.
I can’t.
I can’t lose my head and make this a thousand times more complicated.
The ring shines nicely on her finger too. I try to keep a lid on my pride, seeing how it fits.
Lucky guess.
Now, I just have to distract myself until I stop daydreaming of kissing the woman wearing it. Pretend or not, it’s a primal impulse I didn’t expect.
This caveman shit warns me there’ll be hell to pay if I don’t check it ASAP.
The way she chews her bottom lip when she thinks doesn’t help at all.
“Here.” After what feels like an eternity later, she passes the phone back.
I punch in my usual order for spicy drunken noodles with shrimp and pretend to check my text messages. The silence yawns between us like a thick blanket.
I almost regret asking her to stay.
Then again, I don’t.
We need to learn to tolerate each other if we’re going to make this work. If we’re going to get past her urge to scratch out my eyes, or my temptation to carry her off to the bedroom over my shoulder.
We need to act like sane people.
There’s too much riding on this deal to blow it now.
“You know, I researched you more last night. Pretty deep dive before I agreed to something totally crazy.” She glances across at me.
“Yeah? I’m not surprised. You don’t just jump in and fake-marry a dude without knowing something.”
“Why pet food?” she asks.
Unexpectedly blunt. But she’s still just staring, waiting for an answer.
“Why pet food,” I repeat.
“You mentioned it at the bar. When I looked it up, I found your website. Pretty well put together. I wasn’t expecting a whole white paper linked to the mission statement.” She smiles curiously.
“I didn’t write it. I have a couple nutritionists who roped their peers into helping me refine my plan.”
“Well, obviously. You don’t get to add scientist to your skills.”