Cheesy on the Eyes: Fake Dating Romcom (Slice Book 5)

by Teagan Hunter

Frankie laughs. “I told him, but he doesn’t listen to me.”

  “Why are you getting married to him, then?”

  “He has a really nice—”

  “Please do not follow that up with anything to do with his anatomy.”

  “I was going to say beard.” She laughs. “He just wants to make sure you’re happy, that’s all.”

  “I know, I know. It’s just annoying.”

  “How is it going with Sullivan?” Frankie leans into me. “Don’t tell your brother, but that name is so hot.”

  Don’t I know it.

  It’s the first thing I liked about him.

  Well, that and his willingness to help a crazy lady who was flagging him down.

  “Secret’s safe with me,” I promise. “It’s…good.”

  My words sound cautious even to my ears.

  Things with Sully are going well…unless you factor in my growing attraction to him.

  A real damn inconvenience when we promised not to let our tingly bits get in the way of our arrangement.

  We’ve been fake-dating for three weeks now, and the wedding is just three more away. I’m damn proud I’ve managed to keep it in my pants this long given how tightly he has my body wound with each additional look my way.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so skeptical. Good,” I say again, this time with more conviction. “They’re good. Everything is just still so new, you know? I don’t want to jinx it.”

  Half true.

  She bobs her head. “I can understand that. When your brother and I reconnected, I was very careful about how much I let myself feel for him, especially because I knew what he could do to my heart. I know you had a rough breakup with your ex, so I can imagine you’re moving forward with caution too.”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  It’s not totally a lie.

  I am being cautious because of my history with men, but I also know nothing Sully and I are doing is real, and I can’t let myself blur those lines.

  Not even if the more time we spend together, the more I wouldn’t mind doing just that.

  “This has to be the tiniest bathroom I’ve ever been in!”

  “Are you talking to me while you’re peeing?”

  Shit. “If I say no, would you believe me?”

  Sully chuckles. “Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then tell me no.”

  “No, Sully, I am definitely not peeing.”

  I hear him snicker again, and I’m glad he can’t see the red flaming up my face. I do my business, pull my coveralls back up, wash my hands, and make my way back out to his small kitchen.

  It’s been over a week since we went to the movies together, and we’ve spent every single day together since.

  I reached out first, then Sully texted me, and then eventually I just started showing up every evening with the excuse of working on his motor.

  It took me all of one day to diagnose what was wrong.

  I’ve admittedly been fooling around and dragging it out longer than I need to just so I can spend time in his presence, because apparently my social life is that sad.

  “You didn’t have to feed me lunch, you know.” I take a seat at the table, pulling the mouthwatering-goodness-filled plate closer.

  “It’s a cinnamon bun you made me buy for you when I went on a supply run. None of this was my decision.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t have to stop.”

  “You threatened to beat me with a rock-filled teddy bear—whatever the fuck that means—if I came back empty-handed. Not stopping didn’t seem like a viable option.”

  I use my fork to cut into the treat I’m calling lunch. “A rock-filled teddy bear is the ultimate weapon. Appears cute and harmless, then BAM! Ya dead.”

  I shove a bite of the best cinnamon bun along the coast into my mouth, letting the sugar explode over my tongue.

  Pebbles of sweat form on the back of my neck, and I know it’s not from eating.

  It’s Sully.

  I can feel him staring at me.

  “What?” I ask, wiping at my lips. “Something on my face?”

  “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

  “Are you doing that mind-reading crap?”

  He grins. “It’s not mind-reading. I’m just…intuitive. And no. I was meaning more along the lines of trying to figure out when you got so damn crazy.”

  “My mother claims birth. I think it happened when I was about five or so and she forgot to pick me up from school. It’s all trauma-related.”

  I shovel another bite of my “lunch” into my mouth.

  Sully continues to stare at me like I’m insane. I’m sure he isn’t entirely wrong.

  “Thank you,” I tell him. “For grabbing lunch for me. I was famished.”

  “You’re welcome, though I’m not sure a cinnamon bun counts as lunch.”

  He can tease me all he wants, but that’s the third time this week he’s given in to my sweet tooth. Last night, I mentioned I could go for ice cream.

  Half an hour later, Sully was calling me up to the top deck, and we ate our ice cream under the stars.

  “Are you now policing which foods can be eaten at certain times of the day?”

  “No, but there is a social norm on that.”

  “Eh.” I roll my eyes. “Social norms are bullshit.”

  He laughs and bites into his lunch—a boring turkey sandwich.

  “Today’s Saturday, right?” I ask.

  “Yep. Why? Have plans?”

  “No. Just trying to figure out why your lame ass got a turkey sandwich when I know full well Daisy’s has a Saturday special on the menu. What was it today?”

  “Something with pickles.” He curls his lip. “I fucking hate pickles.”

  “You hate pickles? Pickles? And you call me an abomination because I hate pizza.”

  “Just eat your sugar coma, Thea.” He shakes his head, taking another bite.

  He chews. Swallows.

  Runs his tongue over his lips.

  And I somehow find it to be incredibly sexy.

  I’ve been finding everything he does incredibly sexy.

  His eyes? Sexy.

  His laugh? Sexy.

  Smile? Sexy.

  The way his hair curls out from under his baseball cap? What’s the point of panties again?

  What the fuck is wrong with you, Thea? Are you really that horny?

  I calculate how long it’s been since I last got laid and…yep, I am that horny.

  Ugh. Pathetic.

  “How’s the motor coming along?” Sully asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

  The way he asks it…there’s something to it, like he knows I’ve been coming here without anything to do just to be around him.

  I pull my fork out of my mouth. “I, uh…I’m almost done.”

  He tries to fight his smile, but he’s unsuccessful.

  And I know.

  “But you already knew that, didn’t you?” I ask, setting my fork down and crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I had a feeling.”

  “A magic one?”

  He laughs. “No. You’re just good at your job.”

  “How would you know that? I’ve never done any work for you.”

  “No, but you manage a shop, Thea, and you’re not even thirty yet.”

  I don’t miss the awe in his voice.

  Nor do I miss the way those fucking butterflies start again.

  I like that Sully’s proud of me, like that in contrast with previous men in my life, he’s not shitting on me for what I do.

  The saddest part? He’s not even really in my life.

  “Are you busy tomorrow?” he asks.

  “Why?”

  “I need help burying a body.”

  “Seriously?”

  “No.” He narrows his eyes. “But you sound oddly excited about that.”

  “I was just going to tell you you’re doing it wrong. You obviously want to
charter a boat for the day and go way out in the ocean, chum the water, and then dump the body for the sharks to eat.”

  “Duly noted.” He chuckles. “Remind me not to ever piss you off.”

  “No plans for tomorrow,” I say, answering his question. “Why?”

  “Want to learn to surf?”

  “So it’s me you want to kill.”

  He sniffs. “Hardly. I think if you give it a shot, you’ll like it.”

  “I don’t know…” I say, grabbing my fork and scraping at the remaining icing on the plate. “I really don’t do well with the ocean. It’s just so…vast.”

  “You don’t have to get in if you don’t want to, but at least come with me.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” I tease.

  Sully’s eyes churn like the sea on a stormy day as he leans into me. He studies my features with such ferocity I almost want to back away, but I don’t.

  His proximity has my mouth going dry, and I lick my parched lips.

  He tracks the movement, watching carefully as my tongue rolls over the flesh. His pupils pulse, and I almost want to do it again just to see if he’d react differently.

  Like, say…by pushing his lips against mine.

  When he pulls his gaze up, meeting my eyes once more, he says, “I have never, ever said that to another girl before.”

  I gulp.

  There’s no teasing in his voice.

  What he’s asking me to do, going to the beach with him, it’s big. This is important to him, a part of his life he doesn’t share with anyone else.

  This is him being real.

  “Okay,” I tell him. “I’ll go.”

  “Yeah?” He sits back, satisfied. “Good. I’ll pick you up at five thirty.”

  “In the morning?” He nods, and I groan. “Ugh. You really are trying to kill me.”

  He chuckles. “Hand turkey promise I’ll never wake you up at five thirty again if you go with me this one time?”

  We bump our fist and hand together like we’ve practiced it a million times before. “Deal.”

  Slice Ten

  Sully

  “One light roast coffee with a splash of almond milk and vanilla.”

  Thea blinks up at me with tired eyes, taking the thermos from my outstretched hand. “I could kiss you right now.”

  I fucking wish you would.

  It took everything I had not to kiss her yesterday when we were sitting at my kitchen table. When her tongue darted out, I wanted to feel it against mine. I honestly cannot remember a time I’ve wanted to kiss someone so damn badly.

  I berated myself all night for not making a move like some pussy.

  “You ready?” I ask, glancing down at her attire.

  She has on a pair of faded pink jogger-style sweatpants and an oversized lightweight sweater.

  I’m almost a hundred percent sure she’s still wearing her pajamas and all she did was comb her fingers through her hair. I’ve watched my sisters put on makeup enough to know she’s sporting a light layer of mascara and some lip gloss, but that’s it.

  “Stop checking me out, Sully. I know I look dead sexy this early in the morning, but I’m gonna need you to keep it in your pants.”

  She’s being self-deprecating, but she has no idea just how hot I do find her right now.

  She’s just so…her. Simple. Understated.

  “Come on in,” she says, pulling the door open and popping the lid on the coffee I brought her. She takes a big drink before wiping at her mouth. “I just need to grab my bag.”

  I step into her one-room apartment, glancing around as I make my way past the bathroom and the kitchen area. The building she lives in used to be a hotel, and they converted the rooms into studio apartments when I first moved to town. I know because I looked at living here before Winston finally convinced me to just stay with him.

  How a person lives and decorates can say a lot about them, and in true Thea fashion, hers doesn’t tell me anything.

  The walls are bare, not a single photo or painting to be found. There’s a petite stand flush with the wall under the window, and it has a little garden on it. Instead of a TV, there’s a bookshelf full of records, but I don’t immediately spot a player. A big couch in the ugliest shade of green I’ve ever seen takes up a spot opposite her neatly made queen-sized bed.

  Other than that, there’s nothing.

  Not even on the kitchen counters. Nothing sitting atop the two-person table.

  “It’s not much,” she says, “but it beats going back to living with my parents. I couldn’t imagine having to work with my dad and live with him.”

  “You’re a bit of a minimalist.”

  “Says the guy who lives on a boat.”

  “Fair.” My eyes survey the room again, looking for anything at all that could tell me more about her.

  There, sitting on the vinyl shelf, is a teddy bear.

  Nodding toward it, I ask, “Is it filled with rocks?”

  “What, and ruin the surprise of you finding out later?”

  I shake my head. “You got everything?”

  “Almost.” She pads to the bathroom, coming back with a coffee mug at her lips, tossing back its contents like a shot. “Just need my…” She trails off, putting the now empty mug in the sink. She doubles back to the dining table and retrieves the bag hanging off the back of a chair, tossing it over her shoulder.

  I pinch my brows together when I see how stuffed full it is. “You sure you need all that? We probably won’t be out there long.”

  “Mind your business and let’s move it before I change my mind and crawl back into bed.”

  Her bed.

  Images of us tangled together beneath her black sheets assault me. I can see it clear as day, like it’s something that’s already happened.

  My dick stirs to life. If I don’t get us out of here now, I just might turn the images into reality.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  After Thea locks up, we make our way to my truck and hop inside.

  “Please tell me you aren’t taking this thing down on the beach.”

  “If I were?”

  “Then why wouldn’t we just walk there? That’s what we’d end up doing anyway.”

  While Thea is sassy on a good day, I love that she’s a little extra sassy early in the mornings.

  The drive is short, and we’re pulling into the public beach access lot in less than five minutes.

  “Aren’t we here before beach hours?”

  “Officially, yes, but unofficially, I made a point of making friends with the officials, and they never question my truck being here before hours. I can pretty much come whenever I want.”

  She gives me a sleepy smile over the top of the thermos poised at her lips. “I like your style, Sully.” She takes a sip of coffee and then says, “Come on, let’s go see this sunrise.”

  We clamber out of the truck. Thea sips on her coffee, waiting for me as I pull my wetsuit on over my swim trunks and grab my surfboard.

  “You’re really gonna surf?”

  “Maybe. Sometimes I just end up sitting on the beach and thinking, but I always come prepared.”

  “And you were giving me shit for packing a bag.”

  She shakes her head, leading us down to the water’s edge.

  Right before the asphalt ends, Thea stops and slides her sandals off, stuffing them into a pocket on the outside of her bag.

  “Ahhh.” She sighs the moment her feet slip into the cold sand. “Nothing feels better than this.”

  We trek forward, moving down the shoreline until we agree on a spot.

  When we stop, Thea tosses her bag down and pulls out a blanket she had stuffed in there.

  She spreads it out, then flops down on it, patting the spot beside her.

  I lay my board down and join her, tucking my knees close to my chest.

  We sit there quietly for several beats, just watching as the waves crash. We’re sitting close together, our arms brushing against
one another.

  My body heats up, and it has nothing to do with the threat of the rising sun and everything to do with Thea and our proximity.

  “It’s gorgeous out here,” she whispers, eyes glued to the water.

  I slide my gaze her way. Her loose honey hair is flying around in the wind, and I love the way it breezes across her cheeks in the pre-dawn light.

  She lifts the thermos to her mouth, taking a large gulp. I watch as she glides her tongue over her lips, making sure to catch every drop of coffee she can find.

  Like she can feel my eyes on her, she peeks over at me, a shy smile dancing across her lips.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” I say.

  Except it’s not nothing.

  I’m mesmerized by her, and I can’t remember a time when I was this captivated by anyone before.

  Hell, the only thing I watch as closely as I do her is the ocean, and right now it’s paling in comparison.

  She doesn’t question anything, returning her attention to the water.

  After a few seconds, she sets the coffee aside and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath and then blowing it out.

  She repeats this a few times before opening her eyes again.

  “Ah, that’s much better.”

  “Do that often?”

  “A few times a day. It helps me clear my mind.” She lifts a shoulder, eyes moving back to the sea. “I don’t remember the last time I came out here before sunrise.”

  “I’m here every morning.”

  “Every single morning?”

  “You like to breathe to clear your mind. This is how I do it.”

  “You have to clear your mind this early every morning?” she teases.

  “I have my reasons,” I counter.

  And lately they have everything to do with you.

  My lips never move, but as her cheeks redden, I know she understands me just fine.

  She pushes the hair brushing her face back behind her ear. She tucks her lips together, trying to hide the shy grin playing on them, and I want to reach over and pull it free.

  I don’t. Instead I force myself to shift my eyes off of her before I do something dumb.

  Part of me is happy I brought her here because I want to share this moment.

  But the other part knows I’m walking a thin line.

  I can’t stop thinking of her when she’s not around, and when she is around—which is every evening now—I have to repeatedly talk myself out of touching her.