Hot Jerk (Alphalicious Billionaires Book 12)

by Lindsey Hart

  I already know I’m never going to ask her. There’s never going to be another fake date or a real one. I blew that chance, and not just by running out of gas. I should type her an email. I suck at trying to write romantic garbage, but I could at least apologize to her for the things I said. I crossed just about every line there was to cross, at least as far as being a total dick went.

  “I guess I’ll head out,” I say after I finish off my coffee. “Thanks for the chat, Dad. Don’t worry. I’ll go on the rest of the dates. I actually tried on the first one. That’s all Mom asked for, right? It’s not that unrealistic if you can get past the fact that she arranged the dates in the first place.”

  “Technically, she didn’t,” Dad points out cautiously.

  “You’re right.” I sigh. “I guess she just paid someone else to do that for her. It really will be okay, though. I might not come all the way around to this, but I’m not giving up the company. I do recognize that you and Mom were concerned, and this was somehow supposed to show that, in some crazy, convoluted way. I’ll be back to work soon enough.”

  “So you—you don’t hate us for this?”

  “Nope.” I give my dad a genuine smile, and I feel insanely bad when his chest deflates like a punching bag. Did he seriously think I could hate him? Hate my mom? That I’d be so pissed about this, it would cause a rift between us? “Really.”

  I walk back into the kitchen and, by force of habit, put my empty mug in the top rack of the dishwasher. I even give my dad a wave as I walk out the front door. He waves back.

  By the time I get in the car, I feel much better. I’m not entirely sure why, because nothing has changed. Not really. I did decide that I was going to write Rowan an email, which I plan to do as soon as I get home before she sends me another profile. Maybe that’s why I feel lighter. Oh, and now my dad knows there’s some hope for an undamaged relationship. I didn’t realize they were that worried.

  Maybe there were a lot of things I didn’t realize.

  Maybe I wouldn’t have realized them at all if last night hadn’t happened.

  Maybe, if my mom’s idea was actually to teach me something about myself and life, it’s working out.

  CHAPTER 8

  Rowan

  I know this should be completely off-limits, but I’m on my way to some little out-of-the-way ice cream shop, even though it’s pretty freaking frigid out now as it’s just after dinner and the sun is riding low. I should not be driving to meet with Cliff. Not after last night. Not at all. What I should be doing is getting my butt in gear and planning him a second date. I was actually doing just that—searching through profiles and wondering who I could be cruel enough to sacrifice as the asshole’s next victim when an email popped into my inbox.

  It was my work email, and I was working, like I normally do on the weekend. I was putting in the extra time because I woke up in the morning with renewed determination. Maybe I’m just an overly optimistic person, but I thought that maybe, just maybe, some of my words from the night before took hold. Maybe Cliff would choose to take pity on me and just cooperate enough for me to save my job.

  I spent half the night thinking about what he said, and the other half rehashing my own words. Clearly, something I said got through, because Cliff’s email was a brief apology. He asked if he could talk about his next dates in person and gave me the address of an ice cream shop fairly close to my apartment, which I’m sure he had to actually lookup. I responded back, telling him I could meet him there at seven, and he agreed.

  I wish I said five, even though no one eats ice cream at five, but I didn’t want to look weird. Seven sucks, because it left me hours to think and worry about it.

  I pull up to the ice cream place, which is a nasty looking little brick building with a boarded-up window. I park my car and do a quick scan in the rearview mirror. I’m a mess on the inside and kind of on the outside too. I tried to tame my hair, but I made the mistake of having a cold shower as soon as I got home the night before, and I went to bed with wet hair, which means it’s a frizzy mess today that no amount of product could tame. I tried twice to put on makeup, but I ended up washing it off both times.

  I have no idea what’s wrong with me.

  I spot Cliff immediately when I walk in. He’s the only person in the place. All the tables and chairs are mismatched, and they look more like they’re intended for outdoor use. But they’re not what catches my attention. Cliff catches my attention.

  He’s… well… gorgeous. He’s wearing a tight-fitting grey t-shirt that is doing some serious straining across his broad shoulders and chest. He stands when he sees me, and his jeans are even better. They’re soft looking and worn in, and they enhance his muscular thighs. It’s cold out, so I don’t know why he’s just wearing a t-shirt. I want to tell him to put on a jacket. Or a really baggy sweater, because that t-shirt is doing things to me. Like, real things. Lady bit tingling things.

  Whatever else the guy might be, he is fit; I’ll give him that.

  I also really wish he would stop getting to places before I do. It’s twenty minutes to seven, and he’s here.

  I approach the counter with trepidation, but as it is, a friendly-looking elderly woman who is absolutely adorable in a floral print shirt and pink polyester pants pulled up traditionally high, shuffles forward and gives me a big, denture filled grin.

  She’s so sweet that I immediately forget about the creepy exterior of the place and the boarded-up window. I proceed to order a large waffle cone and an ice cream cake that I’ll pick up when I leave, to take home. I know I might not have a job soon, so I technically shouldn’t be spending money, but whatever.

  Cliff gives me a strange look, but then he orders a mint chocolate chip and bubblegum cone—a nasty combination if I’ve ever heard one. Not to be outdone, Cliff asks for two boxes of homemade ice cream sandwiches, also to pick up when he leaves.

  I think we made the super cute, little old lady’s day because she keeps smiling the most adorable smile as she gives us our ice cream. After, she heads to the back, behind the counter, which gives me and Cliff some privacy.

  Not that we need it. I told him to get his big boy male panties on and grow up. So, I can put my big girl gitch on as well, and apologize, even if I have an audience.

  We both sit there for a minute, him with his gross and weird ice cream combo, me with my much more normal cookie dough. I don’t watch him eat it, though, because I’m scared of what the sight of his tongue or lips working at his ice cream will do to me.

  New lows, I know.

  I clear my throat and look up when I think it’s safe to do so. Luckily, Cliff is holding his cone in front of him. “Uh—I—I said some things last night, and it was pretty rude. I wanted to apologize too. It was unprofessional. Usually, I’m not. I shouldn’t have said what I did about me and my job. I shouldn’t have said anything about you because I don’t even know you. I’m sorry for what I said about your parents spoiling you. I’m sure that no matter how much money a person has, they have their own problems and feelings about things. Your mom seemed really nice, so I’m sure your family isn’t one of those stuck up rich types. I don’t even know why I said that.”

  Cliff’s pretty amazing lips twitch at the corners. His eyes are even better. They’re shining with amusement. “You’re right. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon—uh—anywhere.”

  I flush at that because I’m pretty sure I said it was shoved up places that were in the exact opposite direction of his mouth.

  “My parents are good people. I know you must think my mom is crazy for doing this, or that we’re some weird kind of family with strange relationships to one another, but I think this is just her way to get my attention. She really wants me to be happy. I might have had some experiences that soured me in the past. My parents have been happily married for forty years, and she wishes I could have that too. She can tell I’m lonely. She’s my mom, and no matter how—uh—dumb I think this idea of hers is, it’s really just a wakeup
call because I pushed her to it.”

  I’m pretty blown away by his level of openness and honesty. Who is this guy? This isn’t the same Cliff Marshall that I talked with at the coffee shop the first time or the one I went on a fake date with last night. This is a nice Cliff Marshall. I don’t know what to do with Nice Cliff.

  “I didn’t think anything about your family. Not really.”

  “Yes, you did. You must have thought my mom was crazy or that I was uh—well—yeah. That it was creepy to the creepiest degree.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “I didn’t.” I can’t keep a straight face, though, and I have to look down at my ice cream and suppress a giggle. “Okay, maybe a little bit. But your mom is a really nice lady, so I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Rich people are usually weird too.”

  “Not us. We’re pretty normal, actually.”

  “Good to know.”

  “My parents live in a normal house. It’s still the same house I grew up in. They drive normal cars. They work really hard to make sure the company is a success. They really care. About everything and everyone. They aren’t members of some country club, and they hardly ever even go out to eat.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I like to do normal things too. I work at a normal job. Went to college and got a degree like most people do to get a decent job. I drive—well, you’ve seen my car. I have a normal house too. It’s a newer construction in a good neighborhood, but it’s not anything fancy. Nothing that other people couldn’t or wouldn’t buy.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen your car. Did you remember to get gas today?”

  Cliff’s face blanks, and I nearly fall off my hard metal chair. “Are you kidding me? For real? You forgot again? I’m seriously starting to think there might be something wrong with you. You need to set an alarm on your phone to go off like every other day, and when it does, you need to be driving so you remember to pull over and stop.”

  “Wouldn’t I just shut it off because it’s unsafe to drive and do stuff on your phone at the same time, and then I’d end up forgetting again?”

  I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek. “You could always snooze it.”

  Cliff’s ice cream is starting to melt, and it’s dripping down the big minty scoop. It’s now dripping way down the cone, which I happen to think is a crime against humanity. It might also be a crime against humanity when Cliff’s tongue appears and winds around it, neatly licking all the drips off in one fell swoop.

  Ouch.

  I might have officially just ovulated.

  “Uh—yeah…” I totally forgot what I was going to say. I’m scared I’m going to say something about Cliff’s tongue because I’m telling myself not to say anything about his tongue. I’m focusing so freaking hard on his tongue that I’m sure I’m actually going to say something awful about it by mistake and humiliate myself.

  “Yeah…” Cliff licks at his ice cream again, and I just blank. I finally realize mine is dripping all over the place, too, and I have to lick around it. I hope he’s not looking at my tongue. Or do I? Yes. Yes, I do. Because anything else is unprofessional and dangerous.

  “Yeah…”

  He licks at his ice cream again while I try and calm my raging ovaries. “I wanted to tell you that I’ll do the best I can with the next two dates. I can’t promise anything because I’m honestly not looking for a relationship, but I will at least be nice.”

  “So, you’ll do the exact opposite of what happened last night?”

  “Yes. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

  “Good.” I should be smiling readily, but instead, I find myself forcing it. Now my insides hurt for a totally different reason. It feels a little like they just got stabbed with something pokey and evil. “And when you’re not looking for someone, that’s when you usually find them. Have you ever heard that?”

  Cliff groans. I feel like groaning too. For so many different reasons. I don’t usually spout off corny nonsense, and usually, I want my clients to be successful. I want Cliff to have good dates. I seriously do. It’s my job, right? It will also save my job. I seriously do care about that, and I should be happy all around. So why do I feel like I’m about to go into cardiac arrest?

  “Yes. Unfortunately,” he responds. “But not in this case. I’ll try and make it clear that I’m very satisfied with the job you’ve done, and I’ll make sure my mom has only good things to say. Would that help?”

  I have to glance down. Suddenly, my face is on fire. I concentrate hard on my ice cream, which is not nearly cold enough to cool down the fever raging through me. Maybe I am actually coming down with something. I’ve never felt this strange. Like I’m going to melt. And I’ve sat across from hot guys before. This is nothing overly new. Except my internal organs have never hurt like they’ve jumbled into a combination of fire, stabby knives, and broken glass.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m sorry I said anything. It was really unprofessional. Plus, it’s kind of a dick move by my boss. It isn’t your fault, and you shouldn’t have to deal with it. If you’re satisfied with the service, you and your mom can leave a good review if you want. If not, that’s fine too. You can be honest. I think that’s the best policy.”

  “Is it, though? Because this is my mom’s version of brutal honesty.”

  “Maybe, in some cases, it’s not.”

  “This place is really good,” Cliff says, changing the subject. “It got five stars. I can see why. I read they make all their own ice cream and cones.”

  “Seriously?” I have a new respect for the place because he’s right. This is really good. Maybe I can become a new regular.

  You know, after I find a new job and have some extra money. Also, it’s a good way to eat your feelings. I’d like to help them get their window fixed. Then again, maybe insurance is going to take care of it.

  “Yeah. They really do.”

  We settle into what I would call an uncomfortable, comfortable silence. It’s not really one or the other as it’s kind of both all at once.

  Pretty soon, Cliff stands. I stand too, jamming the rest of my cone into my mouth and turning away so he can’t see me try and chew it awkwardly and weirdly. Ugly chewing—I guess that’s what I’m doing.

  I nearly forget about the cake I paid for until Cliff walks over to the counter. I follow him after I grab my tote and jacket. I’m just in time to hear him say something, in low tones, about the window I was just thinking about. He then passes over a few large denomination bills. I’m far enough back that I know he didn’t mean for me to see or hear him do it. The sweet little lady’s smile would have told me something was off, though, because she’s seriously beaming when Cliff steps aside, and I walk the slowest walk I can possibly manage up to the counter.

  On the way out, Cliff holds the door for me. It’s a good thing, because I’m kind of dazzled by what I just saw him do, and my arms are full of the biggest ice cream cake I’ve seen in a while. It looks absolutely amazing. I guess this place just proves you can’t judge anything by what you see. The whole book and cover deal.

  “I’ll send over that profile later tonight,” I promise outside. I can’t look at Cliff. I don’t know what is going on with my face or my emotions or my anything, and I’m afraid it will show.

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  I have to look up. Because if I don’t, I think that would be even weirder. Cliff gives me a salute with his box of ice cream sandwiches.

  “Have a good night then. Get gas. Please. For the love of—uh—ice cream.”

  “Will do.” He nods at me.

  I nod back. I have the insane urge to blurt out something, but I have no idea what it’s going to be, so I clamp down hard on my bottom lip and wait for Cliff to walk away. I’m ashamed to admit that I steal a peek at his ass, which in those faded jeans is hella-amazing. I curse myself after and duck into my car, tucking the ice
cream cake on the floor of the passenger side.

  I’ve never had a moment where I’ve gotten into the car and needed a bit of time to compose myself, so I can actually concentrate on driving and not on the crazy stampede of everything else that is churning up an epic storm inside of me.

  I guess there really is a first time for everything. And maybe that includes corny sayings about finding things when you aren’t looking for them.

  After I get home, I break out all the stops. I take out my phone and actually communicate. I hang out with my good friends every now and then, but I’m a bit of a loner. I never liked going out, and I never did the parties thing. Then there was the whole Calvin incident. I dated him for four years until I was twenty-five. In those four years, his jealously and possessiveness pretty much drove away all the friends I had. Only a few stuck with me. I let it happen. I still, after all this time I’ve been single, have no idea why I let him do those things. I guess, when I finally figured out what was happening, I put a stop to it and broke up with him, but I was pretty naïve about it for a long time.

  I really dug into work to try and make myself happy and give my life meaning. I guess old habits do indeed die hard. Because I’d rather be at home going over people’s profiles or writing emails to my existing clients than out doing things that people my age normally do.

  Tonight, though, I can’t help myself. I need advice.

  I plop down in bed, my phone in hand. My sister and I have one of those relationships where we were always friends. She’s three years older than me, so we weren’t that close growing up because I was mostly a pest to her, and she was like this unattainable goddess to me who I admired the heck out of. After I graduated, though, we started talking more and even doing things together. She never liked Calvin, and I know she was relieved when I finally broke up with him and could be free again. I probably would have done it sooner if she lived in St. Paul, but she moved to Orlando three years ago for work. We’re sisters, so no matter what, no matter how many weeks we go without talking to each other, we’re still able to just pick up the phone and instantly reconnect.