Mr. Fiancé(23)

“I really don’t know,” I reply. “I’m more into martial arts than lifting.”

“Really? You didn’t tell us you were dating Bruce Lee,” Roxy teases Mindy.

Beside me, I feel Mindy go stiff, and I don’t have to look to know she’s cutting me with her eyes. She reaches over and puts her hand on my thigh, giving me a fake smile, when there’s a commotion at the other end of the table.

“Jesus!” Ivy Jo squeals as we hear a yelp, and suddenly, Bertha goes running around the dining room in fear. “Mary Jo, you get that HEFFA on a leash or I’mma skin it and make me a coat! Or maybe a rug!”

“Bertha, you behave!” Mary Jo snaps, and Bertha runs out. She looks at me apologetically. “Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” I say easily. “You don’t like dogs, I take it?” I ask Ivy Jo.

She raises her nose to the ceiling. “I’m more of a cat lady myself.”

I chuckle. “My dog would never let me own a cat.”

“Oh, yeah, your golden retriever,” Mindy says. “What was his name?”

“Her name was Hershey, and she was a brown spaniel,” I say casually, chuckling as I look at Mary Jo. “What was it I said about her being forgetful?”

I don’t have to look in her direction to know Mindy is cutting her eyes at me again. But I ignore it, enjoying conversation with her family. Besides Charles, I think I like everyone in the room. They’re certainly not the cultured one-percenters you’d think of with a place like this, but they are real. And I’ll take real over a pedigree any day.

Everything is going fine and smooth when Mindy suddenly sets her napkin aside and gets up from the table. “Can I speak to you outside?” she asks, walking to the doorway and turning around to give me a look that says Now.

“Sorry,” I say, flashing a wink at everyone. “Relationship goals.”

There’s a polite chuckle from the group as I leave the table, following Mindy out the back door. We step onto the marble patio, and I take a second to admire the layout of the back garden. It’s beautiful, with a clear sky and the stars starting to come out in the purplish sky. It’s going to be amazing later.

Before I can comment on it, Mindy whirls on me, her voice barely contained. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” I ask innocently, trying not to laugh. Watching her upset like this is just glorious. “I’m being your fiancé.”

Mindy shakes her head, and I must admit she’s hot as hell when she’s pissed. Hotter than she normally is. “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

I shrug, purposely still trying to piss her off. “I thought what you said was boring. Come up with better stuff next time.”

“Boring? Come up with better stuff?” She grabs me by the shirt, getting right in my face. Her eyes are sparkling with anger, and again I think, damn, she’s hot when she’s pissed off. I so need to make her mine.

“Listen here, you muscled up, arrogant bastard!” Mindy hisses, shaking me and snapping me back to her words, “You’re supposed to be here doing what I say, not trying to humiliate me. That had better be the last time you slip up or I’m gonna introduce your balls to Grandma’s nutcracker collection, got it?”

She moves to turn away, but I grab her arm, pulling her in close. Lowering my lips until they’re a fraction of an inch from her ear, I grind my hips against hers, letting her feel my cock as it quickly stiffens. “What did you say you wanted to do to my balls?”

She’s flustered, her face going red. Her lips are parted, and in the light, I can see her eyes go darker. She’s torn. She wants me, but she also wants to slap me. I’d give it to her right here on this balcony, make the choice for her, but I know there are others inside. I’m not going to push my luck that much.

I move my lips until I’m just a fraction of an inch from hers. She mewls like a kitten almost, and I know she wants to close the gap, to kiss me again. Right when our lips are about to touch, I hear steps at the entry and Mary Jo comes out, her voice cutting through the tension between us.

“Everything all right out here?”

At the sound of her Mom, Mindy tears away from me, her breathing ragged.

“Yeah, Mom,” she says, not even able to look at me. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

Mary Jo gives us a questioning look, then shrugs. “Okay. But the duck’s on the table, and I’d like to get things started. You know how Grandma is with her pills. We can’t delay dinner too long.”