Hot Damn(17)
“I can pay you more. Or I can take my shirt off and fix more shit for you. I can be your eye-candy repairman.”
She frowns. “Something else.”
Uh-oh. “Like what?”
“I need a fake boyfriend.”
Right after she says it, she winces, like she can’t believe the words just came out of her mouth. Frankly I can’t believe they did, either. I give her a long look, taking in that round, pretty face, her big green eyes, her messy, reddish hair that I want to fist.
Her boyfriend.
No, wait. Her fake boyfriend. Important distinction there. “Is this a role-play thing? That could be hot.”
“No, no, listen for a sec.” She scoots so close to the edge of the chair I’m pretty sure she’s going to fall over on her face right onto her kitchen floor. “I was accepted into vet school. I can’t afford it by myself, so I need a loan. And I can’t get a loan because my credit is shit because my ex was also shit.”
She pauses. I nod without interrupting. I’m following so far—I’ll hear her out.
“I asked my parents to cosign on my loan, but they won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because they think Christopher needs a father figure. As far as they’re concerned, I’m doing everything wrong, and the only way I’ll ever be able to pull my life together and raise my child and accomplish anything is if I find a man.”
I can only stare at her for a second. She’s younger than I am; surely her parents can’t be so old that they think that’s how the world works. Actually, on second thought, it’s completely impossible since the world hasn’t worked that way since medieval times at least. If ever.
Still, maybe they have a point. “Maybe you do need a man. You might be less uptight.”
That sets her off. Those green flames go off in her eyes, and I can only smirk at the fact that she’s so easy to set off. I wonder if it’s that easy in bed. “I do not need a man. I’m doing just fine. Christopher’s dad was nothing more than a sperm donor, then he hiked off to who knows where and left me dealing with the baby and the bills and everything the hell else. I sure as hell don’t need that again.”
“So if I say yes to this, what do I get?” Might as well get all the details out on the table.
She doesn’t hesitate for a second, which makes me wonder how long she’s been thinking about this. Instead she starts ticking points off on her fingers. “I’ll take care of Thor, clean the house, clean the litter box, vacuum, dust, cook…whatever you want.”
I have to admit, her offer is intriguing. “And what do I have to do?”
“I just need you to come to some family things—dinner, maybe a holiday thing or something at some point. Just…do things my boyfriend would do.”
“Does that include all the things your boyfriend would do?”
She makes a scoffing sound, her face going pink. “Of course not. That’d be too much to ask.”
Maybe she thinks I’m not good enough for her. That thought gets my hackles up. “You’re asking an awful lot for me to just get housecleaning services. I don’t need a maid. If I did I’d just go hire one off the Internet. I think I need a little more out of this deal.”
The redness on her face has spread to her ears. “I don’t—”
I wave her off. I’m not interested in turning this into a negotiation for fucking. If I get into her pants, it’s going to be the right way, not because of some kind of barter transaction. “If I have to go to your horrible family reunion s or whatever, then you need to go to mine, too. Somebody besides me should have to suffer through Aunt Mabel’s goddamn goulash.”
Her mouth tightens, then she nods, her face gradually fading back to its normal color. “Okay. Fine.” She sticks her hand out.
I take it, chuckling, and give it a solid shake. Her hand is warm and small in mine.
“What’s so funny?”
“It just seems overly formal considering we just negotiated to be each other’s fake dates.”
She slides her hand away. “You’d like to suggest something else?”
“Maybe we should kiss on it?”
The blush comes back. I like it. Making her blush is almost as fun as making her plant her hands on her hips in that way she has.
“This is not a romantic arrangement,” she says crisply. “This is entirely a business transaction. I thought I made that clear.”
“Not really.”
“Maybe I should write up a contract?” Her eyes are flashing again, and I take it all back. This is way more fun than watching her blush. When she blushes, she’s embarrassed, and I don’t like making her feel bad. This, though… It’s a turn-on. Big time.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
“I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings.”
“No, I got it. Hands off. Pretend boyfriend. No tongue. That kind of thing.”
“All right. Just so we’re clear.”
“We’re clear.” Very clear. In that it’s very clear that I’m going to have to try to change her mind about some of those restrictions.
Glancing up at the clock on the wall, she stands. “I need to get going. I’m supposed to work at the vet’s office this afternoon, and I need to get Christopher over to my sister’s.”
With a decisive nod, I stand, too. “Great. I’ll pick you up after work, then. Five o’clock?”
She blinks at me, uncomprehending. “Pick me up? Why?”
I shrug, as if it’s obvious. “Some of the guys are getting together tonight for drinks. You’re my fake girlfriend now. I want to show you off.”
“Okay, fine, whatever.”
She starts to move toward the door, herding me that way. “Wait. Before I leave, do you need any more work done? Pictures hung? Plumbing? Sticky windows? Anything like that?”
Again, she looks perplexed. “No. Why?”
“I need to take care of all your repair needs now that I’m your boyfriend.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” She waves me toward the door. “Fake boyfriend. Quit acting like it’s more than it is.”
I open the brand-new door and am pleased by the way it opens, smoothly and silently. I do good work. “Well, honey, be sure to let me know if you need anything taken care of. I’ll be right over with my toolbox.”
She’s still giving me a look when I lean forward and kiss her cheek. Her skin is soft, and I want so badly to shift my lips to the side and take her mouth.
But I don’t. I’m just a fake boyfriend. At least for now.
I give her a smile and head out, making sure she locks the door behind me.
Chapter 6
Maddy
It’s a few minutes past five, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous in my life. Aside from the day I went into labor, that is. I know it isn’t a real date, and it certainly won’t be anything as stressful as shoving a baby out of my body, but I’m still so self-conscious I can barely stand still.
Calm down, Madison. Get a grip. It’s not even a real date. Jesse isn’t even my real boyfriend. It’s just drinks with some firemen. It’ll be fine.
My phone buzzes with a text message, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I dig it out of my back pocket. It’s from Jesse.
On my way, honey buckets! This is followed by a string of heart emojis, some with glittery effects. I roll my eyes.
“Didn’t know what you were getting into, did you?” I mutter. Though there should have been a clue or two.
I tug again at my denim jacket. I didn’t know what to wear, but I assumed from what Jesse said that I’d be uncomfortable in the business casual garb I usually wear at work. So I changed clothes in the bathroom, and now I’m wearing faded jeans and a denim jacket over a black T-shirt emblazoned with the logo for Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. It seems subtler than a Wolverine tee, and anybody who’s not really into X-Men won’t get it, anyway. It’s sort of stealth-geeky. I’ve got my hair down, and I touched up my makeup a little. I think I look pretty good, but at the same time I wonder exactly who I’m prettying up for.
A big red truck pulls up in front of the vet’s office, and Jesse gets out. It’s a very shiny truck. Also very large. As he comes around the front of it to meet me, I catch full sight of him and my breath catches in my throat. How does he do that to me every damn time?
He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, too, with a plaid button-down tossed over it. He’s also got on cowboy boots, which is damn sexy. His hair’s tousled, his face not-quite clean shaven. He’s just… God. What the hell is a guy like that doing pretending I’m his girlfriend? Surely he could find a real girlfriend who’s not a single mom covered in stretch marks.
He gives me a once-over, too, and I steel myself for whatever funny-to-him-but-not-so-much-to-me comment he’s going to come up with. But all he says is, “Nice! Lookin’ hot, Mads.”
“Thank you,” I answer, sure he’s just yanking my chain. That seems to be his specialty. “You too.”
“Ah, this old thing?” He makes an exaggerated gesture at his outfit. “Just something I threw on.”