Adam turned to face her again. “Sugar, you couldn’t have forced me if you wanted to.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it to the front of his jeans, where it was still blatantly obvious that he was sporting an erection. “Don’t you dare try to take that orgasm from me. It was mine.”
She stared at his lap, not quite having the courage to stroke him despite the fact her palm was plastered there. “I, uh…”
“If it makes you feel better, next time I’ll be the one giving the orders.”
Next time. She blinked up at him. “You really weren’t joking about making this as believable as possible, were you?”
His mouth flattened, but then Adam smiled and she was sure she’d misread the expression. “I never joke about fake relationships.”
“Hilarious.” She realized she was still palming him and yanked her hand back. “But, seriously, you have to stop me when I’m out of line. I know we were just doing it for show but—”
“Sugar, stop. Remember what I said about overthinking? You’re doing it again. Sit back and relax, and let the rumor mill do its job.” Before she could answer, he pulled away from the side of the road, and, two minutes later, they were in the parking lot and he shut off the engine. “Brace yourself. It’s showtime.”
Chapter Six
Adam was having a hell of a time focusing on what Jules was saying. She was obviously really passionate about it, which was making him think of what else she’d be passionate about. Again. Every time she smiled, his cock jumped, reminding him that he hadn’t gotten the same release she’d so obviously enjoyed back in the cab of his truck.
For fuck’s sake, focus.
“…but I’m boring you. I’m so sorry.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I’m prattling on and you’d obviously rather be anywhere else but here.” Her self-deprecating smile tugged at him. “I don’t get out much, and the stuff I talk about with Aubry isn’t exactly fit for polite company, and when I get nervous, I start rambling and, seriously, just tell me to shut up right now or I’m going to keep going.”
“Jules, breathe.”
She took a gasping breath. “Right. Sorry again.”
The woman was downright precious. He pushed his plate away and sat back. “When’s the last time you were on a date?”
“Does the charity auction count?” She tugged on her tank top, which only served to make it dip dangerously. “What am I saying? Of course it doesn’t count. The only reason Dave went out with me was because I donated money to the PTA, and really, he kissed like a drowning fish, so it was never going to be anything more than one dinner.”
Adam took a sip of his beer, picking over what she just said. “They still do that charity auction for the high school?”
“Every year like clockwork.” She made a face. “As fun as it is, I can almost tell who’s going to bid on who, though there’s always at least one upset every year. Last year, Mrs. Peterson bid three hundred dollars on Sheriff Taylor. His wife wasn’t very happy about that.”
Considering Mrs. Taylor was one of the scariest women he’d ever met, Mrs. Peterson had balls of steel to pull that one off. But then, he’d known that in eighth grade, when she was his English teacher. She didn’t take any shit then, and apparently that hadn’t changed in the years since. “So, back to your date.”
“It was fine.” She picked up her fork, poked at her salad, and set it down again. For once, he wasn’t the twitchiest person in the room, and he was content to watch her fidget. She used her straw to stir the ice in her water, not looking at him, her head dipped so that her dark hair fell forward to hide her face.
He waited, but she didn’t say anything else, and since she was managing to look everywhere but at him, he figured she wasn’t going to. “Talk about damning with faint praise.”
“It was for charity.” She slumped in her chair and sighed. “It’s obvious I don’t get out much, isn’t it? No wonder the whole town thinks I’m a lonely cat-collecting spinster.”
She was so cute, it was downright painful. He just wanted to scoop her up and tell her that her adorable awkwardness was an asset—not something to be ashamed of. To hell with what the town thought. She was fresh and enthusiastic and as bracing as a dive into a mountain lake.
Adam shook his head and finished off his beer. If he was any other man, he’d tell her to forget her preoccupation with Grant. She didn’t need to fake date him in order to make a point—she was doing just fine on her own.