Flirty Thirty (Nerdy Thirties Book 1)

by Cassie Mae

  I scoot my way off my mattress and pad across the carpet to the adjoining bathroom. I think there is some eye cream in here somewhere; a few years ago, I got cornered at the mall by one of those pushy salesmen and ended up with two hundred dollars’ worth of anti-aging cream. Julie still hasn’t let me live that one down.

  After a few minutes of digging around under my sink, my phone vibrates across the counter. My heart gets another round of Nick Carter-like beats.

  Unacceptable response ;)

  I shake my head and type back, You’ll delete that photo if you know what’s good for ya.

  You want to see a delete-worthy photo?

  Before I can respond with a yes or no, the incoming attachment uploads. It’s a close-up shot of just Cooper’s nose and left eye. I laugh to myself, scaring my skittish orange kitten under the bed.

  They really captured your boss-like essence. ;)

  I’m relieved I had the brains to trim that day.

  I give the shot another glance, my brow furrowing at the facial hair above his lip. That is trimmed?

  I meant my nose hair. Then another picture comes in, his eyes wide in a goofy selfie. He’s sitting in his bed right now, lying across it the way I’m sprawled across mine. My cheeks start to hurt from the all the smiling I’ve been doing during the conversation. Even when he’s being a total goof, he’s one of the most attractive specimens on the planet. Maybe even more-so.

  I save the picture before typing back to him.

  Can I bring my cats?

  I hover over the send button, heart thumping through my chest, around my stomach, up into my throat, and then finally into my head where it makes me temporarily hard of hearing. My thumb presses the button, and I don’t think I breathe for the twenty-two-and-a-half seconds it takes for him to respond.

  Am I hearing a yes now?

  If text messages had a tone, I would assume his was full of hope. Mine however would be a trembled mess, so I’m grateful that texts have yet to advance to that level of technology.

  If I can bring my cats.

  I send that one quickly before I can backtrack. I’m really doing this. I’m negotiating a verbal contract to be “married” to him for a couple of weeks. My hand flies up to cover my face, the realization hitting me so strongly I feel the need to make a few more conditions.

  And I want my own room, I type before he has a chance to respond. This isn’t a romantic getaway. It’s just an unorthodox way of proving to you that I’m right. If there is any shenanigans to be had, it won’t involve me falling in love with you.

  It’s only a few more seconds before my phone buzzes again, but it feels like a lifetime.

  Got it.

  Then another lifetime after that.

  For the sake of clarity, I in no way promise not to fall in love with you.

  I turn slowly from my bathroom, staring at his text as I plop back down on the bed. Finally, we’re at the crossroad, moving forward with this ridiculous charade even though we both know how it’ll end, or I can just end it now with one simple “no.”

  Tom nudges my elbow until I give in and scratch his head. “He won’t fall in love with me,” I say to my older and grumpier cat. It’s the truth—after a full two weeks of uncensored Maya, any man, even one as quirky as Cooper, would turn around running. Perhaps all this will end in is a fun vacation in a mansion and an entertaining story for future girl’s nights.

  Yes, I believe I’ve thoroughly convinced myself. I give Tom a firm nod and straighten my spine as I type back.

  Cooper Sterling, I accept.

  12

  Round and Wound

  “Jim, I can’t,” I grunt out as the wheels on my suitcase get caught on the door jam. Tom’s claws dig into my shoulder as I juggle him, my luggage, and my phone all at once.

  “I’ll pay you,” my brother says over the line, his voice drowning in desperation. “Katie needs a day off.”

  “Then why don’t…” I pause to mouth a thank you to Cooper who has magically appeared in the doorway to help me out. “Why don’t you watch them and give her a spa day?”

  A frustrated growl mixed with an impatient sigh fuzzes over the phone, and if my cat wasn’t giving me a few new piercings, I’d probably laugh at whatever sound my brother just made.

  “Look, it’s been… a while. Between two hour intervals of feeding the baby and potty training the devil spawn, along with the fact that it was kicked off with a very long six weeks celibate, both of us could use a break together.”

  Wow. He must be really desperate if he’s being so open about his sex life. While my sister spouts off her bedroom secrets as if they’re common knowledge, my brother tends to keep those things to himself. Thankfully.

  My eyes flick up to Cooper patiently waiting for me to end the call. He offers up a grin, though the look in his eyes as they pass over my cats tells me he’s not exactly thrilled with my plus-twos.

  “Jim, I would. Trust me, I would watch your kids in a heartbeat, but I’m house-sitting with a…” I drift off, amusement raising my eyebrow as Cooper wildly waves to get my attention.

  “It’s okay,” he mouths. My head tilts as I study his expression, wondering if it’s genuine excitement resonating in his grin over babysitting or if he’s just being nice. I’m assuming the former with his kid obsession.

  “Maya?” Jim says, pulling my attention back into the conversation. I let out a sigh, giving in to the two men who completely ganged up on me.

  “Are you okay with dropping them off?”

  “Yes, yes,” he says, and I can actually hear the smile I’ve put on his face. “Katie and I will probably just stay in anyway. Clean the house.”

  Sure. “I’ll text you the address.”

  “Thank you, thank you, Maya.”

  I swipe the red button on my phone to end the call, shaking my head at the screen. “So much for using you as my ticket out of that one.”

  Cooper grins, pushing up off the suitcase he was leaning on. “How old are they?”

  “Almost two months and just over two years.” I snort, tucking my phone into the band of my yoga pants. One day they’ll put pockets in these things. “You’re in for it with that toddler. Even her father just called her ‘devil spawn.’ I couldn’t disagree with him.”

  The smile that spreads across his face is equal to that of my devil spawned niece when she found the stash of Halloween candy two weeks early. “I can’t wait.”

  “You’re a very strange man, Cooper Sterling.”

  “Thank you.” He grips the handle of my suitcase and lifts it up onto his shoulder. I gulp back a squeak of surprise… and arousal. That bag would never make it past checking with how many shoes I packed in it. “Which room do you desire, Miss Baker?”

  “The big one,” I joke. I hardly expect the master suite, but Cooper gives me one sharp nod and starts charging up the stairwell before I can give him a serious answer.

  I grapple for Kat’s carrier and make sure I have a good grip on Tom before following Cooper up. He’s definitely in better shape than I am, not that I’ve done much to compete with him in that arena. If I were to lift anything, it would sooner be a forkful of cake than a barbell—though carrying my very obese cat up all these stairs should count for something.

  “I was… not really being… serious—” My voice cuts off in the middle of my labored breathing. While the extravagant room is worth a shocked reaction, it’s not the decor that I can’t take my eyes off of. Cooper sets my luggage down, the muscles in his arms chorded with the physical exertion. The moon streams in from the window, lighting up the handsome and knee-weakening features of his face—the boyish grin, the trimmed scruff, and the oceanic blue eyes. The reality of staying with such a tempting man hits me hard in the stomach, knocking the wind straight out of me. Heat fills me up from the inside out, dousing me in unexpected flames. I’m surprised I don’t drop the cats and jump directly into his arms.

  I knew this week would test my self-control, but I did
n’t realize it’d be immediately after I crossed the threshold.

  “You sure?” Cooper teases.

  “Huh?”

  “You want another room?”

  I nearly spit out that I’d like whatever room he’s standing in, but I manage to keep that to myself.

  Tom leaps from my arms and onto the king size bed, making himself right at home. Kat mewls from her carrier, scratching at the metal on the door. I set her down and let her out, and she starts clawing at the first pillow she can find.

  “Unless you’d rather room with them?” I nod to my fur babies who have clearly already set up camp.

  “Enjoy the master suite,” Cooper quickly says, taking an exaggerated step around the bed to avoid the kitties. I press my lips together, shoving back the temptation to pick up either one of them and push them into Cooper’s arms. If I did that, there’s a good chance he’ll be shoving a poopy two-year-old in mine when we watch my niece in a few days.

  Cooper brushes past me, running a hand down my arm in the process. A chill tingles up my spine, stealing away my thoughts for a moment.

  “You tired?” he asks.

  “Uh… uh huh.” Well, I was. I should be. It’s getting late, and I have an early day tomorrow. Yet here I stand, wide awake and hoping he gives in to the desire to touch me again.

  “’Kay,” he says, and I search for any ounce of disappointment in his expression. “So you know, because we’re playing house, food is yours, pool is open, wander around… pig out and enjoy yourself.”

  “How romantic.” I tilt my head. “Do I get to do any of these activities with you?”

  He wrinkles his nose at me. “Not if you don’t feel like it. We’re ‘married’ remember?”

  He winks, and I let out a laugh and tease, “I guess that means sex is off the table. You know… if we’re married and all.”

  “We’re in for an interesting stay, aren’t we?” He says with a laugh. Shaking his head, he steps into me, heating up the already warm smile set on my lips. “Night, babe.”

  “Sweet dreams, honey.”

  He presses a kiss to my lips—one that is far too brief for my liking. For him too, I think, since he stays close even after pulling away, his eyes closed and his breathing picking up to an erratic and heady tempo. If he’s trying to prove that this sort of relationship is more fun, he’s failing miserably. I’m ready to screw the slow, medium temperature setting he’s got on this thing and dial it up to the heat of a fresh relationship.

  His hand leaves the back of my head and falls against his side. He shakes himself from his thoughts and puts on a grin before turning to the door.

  “Night,” he says again, and I chuckle at his drunken gait. When he starts down the hallway, I skip to the door to watch which room he’ll be taking, but he starts heading toward the stairs.

  “Hey!” I call out. His blue eyes lift up and catch mine over the very expensive-looking banister. “What room are you in?”

  The corner of his mouth twitches, cratering his cheek. He nods to the door adjacent to mine, and then starts back down the stairs. I don’t think I’m imagining the extra bounce in his step.

  I duck back inside and shut the door, not only to keep my cats in, but to keep me from going out. I’m here for the amenities, for the view, for a staycation that I most definitely could use. I’m here to prove a point, and nothing more.

  Nothing more.

  I will not jump that man’s bones; I will jump on that bed.

  Using a running leap, I flop onto the mattress, scaring the hell out of my kitten and making the old, grumpy one hiss in my direction. I sink straight into the foam; this must be a Cozy King. It feels much like the fluffy bed used in the photo shoot. Perhaps I’m not so concerned about chasing down Cooper anymore; there is a major possibility I won’t move from this spot my entire stay.

  Tom hops onto my stomach, making me “oof” with the unexpected weight. He spins around and around and around, pawing at my t-shirt until he’s finally satisfied with the spot and sprawls down. The purring calms the anxious pitter patter of my heart, like it always does. The magic cats carry are half the reason I own them. I plan to own many more.

  My phone vibrates against my thigh, and being careful not to disturb Master Grumpy Butt, I wiggle it free from my jeans and hold it above my face.

  Forgot to tell you… the Wi-Fi name is prettyflyforawifi. Password Monster2319.

  I bite away at my smile and stroke Tom a few times so he’s purring so loudly I can feel it in my stomach. He’s got to calm these teenage butterflies. Seriously, I’m thirty now. I found another gray hair just the other day.

  Couldn’t just come in here and tell me? ;)

  Honestly, I thought it would just look like an excuse to keep talking to you.

  True

  And it would be. It’s my excuse now.

  I laugh, rolling onto my stomach and knocking Tom onto the pillows with a snoozing Kat.

  This is new for you, I type. Usually you break the ice with something a normal person would keep to themselves.

  Like how I’m fighting the unbearable urge to put this conversation on hold and explore every inch of that intoxicating mouth of yours?

  Oh sweet lord, is it hot in here? Yes, like that for example.

  Thought I’d try something else for a change.

  Small talk?

  No, he answers in a simple text before another follows. Why don’t you want to get married?

  This again?

  For curiosity sake. I promise I won’t ask again.

  I contemplate my answer, starting my text and erasing it multiple times before I land on what the truth is. Because honestly, the deep rooted reason is a little embarrassing to admit. I spent the better half of my twenties guilty of one of the seven deadly sins in particular—envy. Julie and Jim had found their life partners so quickly it seemed. Holland was married before it was even legal to drink. Clearly on the outs having never gotten to that level of commitment, my thoughts went down wretched paths. When I wasn’t insulting my own personality or body type, I thought horrible things about the people I loved most. As in, “if she can find someone, why can’t I?” That sort of thing.

  I hated it. I was a bitter, jealous girl who needed to stop and smell the roses. When I did, and found out all the things I had—work, sleeping in, an allowance to be selfish with my time, independence—I realized I wouldn’t dare give those things up. And with everyone coming to me to vent about married people and parenting problems, I count myself very lucky.

  I suppose when it didn’t happen for me as quickly as it had for my siblings, I convinced myself that I never really wanted it in the first place.

  It worked so well that you still don’t want it, even if you have the chance for it in the future?

  Yep. I bite away a grin and take a look out the balcony window next to the bed. The soft, transparent drapes bristle in the slight night wind. Though I do admit, so far the fake married life isn’t so bad. ;)

  Good. My evil plan is working. A pause, and then another message. Any chance I’ve convinced you on actual marriage yet? ;)

  Persistence must be part of his advertising training. I don’t want the fiancé, kids, adult thing right now.

  Well, let me know if you ever do. Because I would fiancé you so hard.

  I roll to my back again, laughing at the playfulness I can sense in his text tone. If the walls weren’t so thick, I imagine I’d be able to hear him chuckling as well.

  We spend the next ten minutes, thirty minutes, oh… it’s been two hours chatting, minus the breaks when we both showered—in separate bathrooms—and when he got a call from his brother. I fluff the pillow and check the clock on the nightstand, telling myself again that I really should get to sleep, even though I can’t imagine sleeping with my lady bits tingling like they are. Perhaps that shower should’ve been a cold one.

  I should try to sleep now, I type, but it takes me a minute to actually send it.

  Likewise. Tho
ugh I doubt I’ll resist the urge to keep talking to you.

  A sleepy, goofy grin slides onto my lips. Good luck with that. Goodnight. :)

  Night, beautiful.

  I stare at the texts, even scrolling through our conversation and reliving the evening again before I finally shake myself out of it and plug the phone in on the nightstand. Kat pounces up by my head, taking her usual spot on top of my hair to sleep. This is complete madness; all of it. The room itself as I let my sleepy eyes wander around it once more before I snuggle into the foreign pillows is enough to make me question my sanity. These things don’t happen in real life, let alone to someone as insignificant as me. Successful, sexy, Pitt-in-his-prime kind of man, who is not just that, but also fun, unpredictable, and adorable, is my pretend husband while we play house in his billionaire buddy’s home. Call the Hallmark channel; I have an idea for them.

  I spin around in the sheets, causing Kat to give me an irritated look before she settles back down on a vacant pillow. With how late it is and the extreme comfort of this mattress, I’d have thought the moment I closed my eyes I’d drift off into wet dreams. Instead my fantasies are keeping me wide awake, and they are aching to be played out.

  I clench my thighs together and try to sing an unsexy mantra in my head. The Go Eat Worms song I learned as a kid should work, but it doesn’t. When I forget one simple lyric, my traitorous mind slides back into the memory of Cooper’s lips on mine outside his truck just the other night. His beard was scruffier then, and I wonder how it will feel now that it’s a bit more trimmed. That peck of a kiss he gave me earlier wasn’t nearly long enough for me to tell.

  “Gar,” I grumble, twisting again in the sheets, burying my face ear-deep into the pillow. My fingers curl into the feathers as I try to suffocate the thoughts out of me. When I come closer to actually suffocating, I pull my face free and sit up on my knees. I blow a stray strand of hair from out of my eyes, sounding more horse than human. It’s no use. If I’m going to get any sleep I’m going to have to alleviate some tension.