“What’s wrong?” Sean asked, his arm brushing against mine as he drew close.
I huffed. “My vantage point is too low. I can’t get any good pictures.”
“Well, that’s easily remedied,” he said, and without another word he lifted me. I squealed in surprise as he hoisted me up onto his shoulders. Apparently I weighed absolutely nothing.
“Sean,” I yelped on a small, startled gasp.
“I’m just trying to help you,” he said, gripping my thighs, which were currently straddling the back of his neck. “Now quick, get your pictures before they go inside.”
I swallowed and turned my attention to the A-list couple who were now being ushered into the restaurant by their security team. The camera on my phone was decent, but the flashes from the photographers all around me were blurring my shots. I managed to get a decent one of Dean with his hand on Carly’s lower back, and I knew our female readers would either love or loathe the affectionate gesture, depending on what sort of fans they were.
Sean had done the exact same thing to me as we got out of the taxi. The thought caused a flutter of girlish exhilaration to rush through my belly. I needed to get a handle on this girlish exhilaration. This girlish exhilaration needed a reality check. Maybe even a bitch-slap.
One of his hands lightly squeezed my thigh and I yelped again. “Hey, behave,” I warned, glancing down at him. He shot me a smirk and then a flash blinded me. Turning my head, I saw Mackenzie facing us, snapping a picture.
I shot her a look. “What are you doing?”
She shrugged and glanced down, lowering her camera. “Sorry. You two are just adorable together.”
“Delete the picture, please,” I said, a spike of panic causing my back to straighten.
“Why?” she asked, not understanding.
“Just please delete it, Mack,” I said and she nodded. There couldn’t be any photographic evidence out there of our relationship—no, not relationship, agreement— because if it ever fell into the wrong hands, my brother would have my guts for garters.
Just like that, I emerged from the Sean Cassidy spell, because Ronan really would have my guts for garters. Being with Sean wouldn’t just anger Ronan, it would hurt him. He would feel betrayed.
And I’d rather chew on glass than hurt my brother.
Sean let out a sigh, like he was frustrated by something, then began lowering me down his body. Once my feet hit the ground, I tried to ignore the frown marring his features and clung to the sobering thought of Ronan.
“I need to eat. Let’s go.” Sean grabbed my hand somewhat gruffly. “Again, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mackenzie.”
I gave her an apologetic smile, told her I’d call her tomorrow, and then let Sean drag me away. We walked for a while in heavy silence, me fixating on Ronan’s reaction if he were to find out, Sean growing visibly more aggravated with each step.
Soon the roaring sound of his silence eclipsed my concern over Ronan discovering my disloyalty, and I pulled us to a halt. “You know, it’s a little weird to be holding someone’s hand when they’re angry with you.”
He arched a brow and glanced down at me. “I’m not angry with you. I’m . . . disappointed in you. There’s a difference.”
“You’re disappointed in me?” I asked, a pang of guilt seizing my chest. This day had gone from simple to complicated at an alarming rate. I’d woken up with a sturdy sense of self and a plan to give Sean a blow job. Just a blow job. An exercise in delayed gratification. A simple, impersonal lesson.
Now look where we were.
So much for well-laid plans.
Sean turned to face me. “Yes, Lucy, I am. Tell me, how is it that a girl with wild rainbow hair and such a fun, carefree spirit could care so much about what other people think?”
“You know why.” I stared at the ground because his gaze was too heavy for me to hold.
I felt him studying me as his hand came up to cup one of my cheeks. Finally, he let out a long sigh and said, “I’ll let you have it your way this time.”
His words multiplied my confusion, because as far we’d agreed, no one was ever supposed to find out about us. He told me himself he’d make sure Ronan never discovered what was happening.
The scary, inconvenient feelings that I didn’t want to think about flared more powerful than before.
I liked Sean Cassidy. I liked him with something more than just my vagina.
Giving him a barely there nod, I suggested, “There’s a really good hot dog kiosk nearby, if you’re still hungry, that is.”
His brow furrowed. “I thought you were a vegetarian?”
Thankful for the change in subject, I decided to run with it. “Only when I’m detoxing, the rest of the time I eat meat. Do you know how much we could reduce environmental damage if we all had one vegetarian day per week?”