Take care of it?
What does he mean, take care of it?
He looks up, those sage-green eyes almost sparkling.
I wriggle out of his hold. As calmly as I can manage, I say, “I think it’s time for you to go, Jackson.”
What the hell? How can he do that? All happy and shit about taking care of it if anything should happen.
My brain may explode.
He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
Crossing my arms, I glare. “Just go. Please.”
He scratches his head, his brows drawn together. “I don’t—”
I stalk out of the room. “Please lock up on your way out.”
He rushes to follow me, but I have a head start. I slam and lock the bedroom door before he makes it inside. I lean against the door.
He bangs a couple of times. “C’mon, Peaches. Tell me what I said wrong. I thought you’d be glad. It won’t cost you a dime. Ever.”
I scream at the top of my lungs. “Get out!”
Mumbling drifts off down the hallway. The front door opens and closes.
Good. Be gone.
I open the bedroom door, yelling, “Asshole.”
Decode the Man in Your Life
Chapter [9]: Men Don’t Play Games
Correction: Men Don’t Play Fair.
The sun is out, and the temperature breathes spring, even though it’s only a couple of days into February. There is definitely something to be enjoyed about mild winters.
I let myself in through the gate at the side of the nursery. Hopefully Dave’s here. I rub the spot under my breast bone where my nausea has rolled around all morning. I have to get this over with.
It’s time I put us both out of our misery. Even with me and Jack on the outs, the chemistry between Dave and me is nonexistent. There’s no way I can win this bet if I can’t get him to even start falling for me.
Brushing aside a flowering vine that’s obviously confused about the season, I step around the corner. I smile when Dave steps out of the back door. As I raise my hand to wave, he stops and turns.
Another man, almost as tall and every bit as good looking as Dave, follows him outside.
Wait. I know him. He’s the one from the dog show, the guy with the Sheltie.
The man takes Dave into his arms. His hand slides to the nape of Dave’s neck, and he pulls him in for a passionate kiss.
My cheeks heat as the pieces fall into place. I take two giant steps around the corner from whence I came. Leaning against the fence, I slap my palm over my mouth.
Oh. My. Gosh. Is he cheating on that guy? Or me?
No. Not me; he and I never even kissed. Or said we were exclusive, for that matter.
I let out the breath.
Okay. Let it go. If he calls, I’ll just tell him—
“Ronnie, is that you?”
I close my eyes and let a puff of air out from between pursed lips.
I turn and try to smile. “Hey, Dave. I was dropping in to see you.”
He rubs the back of his neck, looking up from under his thick lashes. “Benji thought he saw someone come around the corner. I guess you saw him too, huh?”
My gaze flits from plant to plant. “Yeah. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
His shoulders droop. “Damn. I guess the cat’s out of that bag.”
“Well, I’m not sure why you were going out with me, but don’t worry, I’m not going to make trouble.” I step through the gate.
Dave catches the gate as it swings closed. “Wait. What are you going to tell Jackson?”
Oh, God. Does he know about me and Jack?
My face flames as I turn to him. “About Jack—”
“Tell him he doesn’t have to pay me the rest of the money. And if I need to, I can refund what he’s already paid.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Dave comes through the gate. “Well, I didn’t finish the job, so—he doesn’t have to pay me.”
All the coherent thoughts in my brain jumble together like clumps of sticky oatmeal. I tap my lip, trying to form a real word.
“What job, exactly?”
Now it’s Dave who looks embarrassed.
“His show hired me.—to go out with you.”
“He hired you?” My voice cracks.
“Yeah, to date you. It was an acting gig.” Dave shuffles his feet, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
My nails bite into my palms. “So, you’re an actor, hired by Jackson Tremaine’s show to date me?”
Dave shrugs and gives a tremulous smile. “Yeah. Pretty much. He was going to have me on the show sometime around Valentine’s when the stunt reveal was supposed to happen.”
“Stunt? Reveal?”
“Yeah. He told me you were a love expert and wrote some book, and your friend is the cheater expert who helps women figure out if their guy will be unfaithful. It’s a gag.”