by Jodi Linton
She ignored his comment and snatched a clipboard off the desk. “I’ve got to turn in my classroom roster from the day. Maybe since we both live in Austin now we could meet up for drinks sometime.”
But before he could question the abrupt brush-off, the door to her classroom burst open and she walked out on him. No way in hell would he let them end on another sour note. He needed Hannah to accept his fake proposal. No. He needed them to be fucking friends again. On that singular thought, he chased after the one person who could make all his dreams true.
His Urban Chopper deal with Chrome, that was.
When he reached the daycare front doors he stopped in his tracks at the sight of Hannah frozen ramrod straight on the porch and staring at a man standing at the playground gate entrance. The guy shoved a pair of wire-rimmed glasses up his round nose and dropped a box on the ground. He appeared non-threatening. Sort of. From the looks of it, the guy seemed to know Hannah and vice versa, although she hadn’t quite gotten around to introducing Nate to Mr. Tweed Sweater Vest.
Her shoulders stiffened.
Nate really didn’t fucking like the way nerd-jerk was looking at Hannah. He decided his best form of action was to barge in on their standoff. And— Oh, God, did Hannah actually just refer to nerd-jerk’s cock as a salami?
Yep, she had.
It was time to act.
She turned, noticing him watching the schoolyard quick draw, and it was absolutely the incentive he needed, although she beat him to the punch. Instantly she reached out and grabbed him by the arm, whipping her body into his. The questionable look he shot her didn’t seem to hinder her advance. She ignored the look, tugged their bodies closer, and looped her arms around his neck. Damn fucking inviting. The breeze picked up, and Hannah’s vanilla and lavender shampoo assaulted what was left of his sensibilities. He slowly caressed the pad of his thumb along the contours of her face and felt her shiver. “If you didn’t know by now that tangling yourself in a man’s arms might get you kissed, you should. I also think you should know that I’m not good at being tested. Normally I fail and give into my urges. Like me wanting to kiss you, now. ”
Her tongue darted out, then swept back inside, giving them a candy apple shine. “Just shut up and kiss me, Fox.”
And he realized he was going to heed her advice and kiss the girl. Kiss Hannah.
He slanted his head to the side, and the moment when her breath hitched he pressed their mouths together. Bubblegum-flavored glossed lips greedily mapped out a path between their mouths. Like a lightning bolt, his obsession to savor Hannah struck each one of his nerve endings. He tasted her hungrily. Wanted more. Ached to drown in his own stupidity, to forget his no-fraternizing-with-the-kid-sister rule.
Nate traced her full lower lip, leisurely dragging his tongue along the slight dimple in her mouth. She sighed and tugged at his hair, sliding her ankle up his calf. If she moved any more up his thighs, she’d notice his very sizable hard-on standing to attention. Well, fuck. His cock was definitely saluting real-life Skipper. A curly spiral of red hair fell from the black-and-white, polka-dot clip she’d fastened in her messy ponytail. He reached up and pulled it through his fingers, loving the small gasps of air escaping her parted lips as he placed openmouthed kisses to the corner of her mouth.
God, he could devour her soft lips for days. On a curse, he broke the kiss. When he looked up, she seemed stunned. Like him.
Small fingers rubbed across his mouth. He groaned. “You ready to work that engagement magic?”
“Damn, heartbreaker, you drive a hard bargain.” He gave her a flirty grin. “What’s your angle?”
“I want an adventure.” She looked straight ahead as she slid into his side and twined their fingers together. “I also need to keep him at bay.”
They both turned and faced their unwanted company. Nerdy I-wear-flood-pants jerk pushed his glasses higher. Nate smiled. Flood pants grimaced. Yep, definitely DEFCON action was required.
“I don’t think we’ve met.” Nate kept a firm hold on Hannah as he stuck out his other hand. “Nate Fox. Hannah’s fiancé.”
Two thick eyebrows lifted in question, and Nate was left with his hand hanging in mid-air. “Fiancé, huh? But I thought you were the guy from the porn shop fiasco.” Henry squinted beneath his glasses, and his nose wrinkled in thought as he eyeballed Nate. “Yeah, I’m sure you are porn-shop guy. That was sudden.”
“Sadly, they told us what happens in porn shops doesn’t stay there, so we had to come clean about our engagement.” Nate looked the guy in the face, wanting desperately to give him a reason to call a plastic surgeon. “She wanted something less scientific in the bedroom, and I’m all about trying new and improved techniques.”
A tennis shoe kicked him in the shin. He hobbled from one foot to the other as he looked at Hannah. Yep, he’d pushed a hot button with her, but hell, something about her ex-boyfriend rubbed him wrong. And Nate had never been the sort of guy to stand down. He liked winning too much.
Henry adjusted his glasses and made a point to only look at Hannah. “I couldn’t get ahold of your new address, and I found some of your things still inside our apartment and thought I’d drop them off. I also thought we could talk. But it seems I’m too late.”
“Try three months too late,” she said.
The nerd-jerk grumbled. “We could’ve tried to work out our problems.”
“I think Hannah’s made it clear she’s done.” Nate stepped forward. “Now why don’t you leave?”
Hannah looked pointedly at Henry then Nate, what he could only assume was to soak in the pissing match. If they weren’t at a daycare, Nate would’ve clocked her ex-boyfriend in the nose. She could definitely do better than this asshole. Plus, he didn’t like the way those glasses slipped each time Henry copped a glance at her girls.
“Thanks for bringing my stuff by.” She pried her hand away from Nate and bent down to scoop up the cardboard box. “But we could’ve just skipped this awkward post-breakup meeting.”
Henry scratched his chin, still glaring at Nate, “Well, that’s it for me. I guess we’ll be seeing you at the wedding this weekend, Nate.” Her ex-boyfriend pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “Nice to meet you, Nate. Been a pleaure. ”
They watched Henry turn and walk back to his Prius. When the car sped away, Nate stepped aside and stared at Hannah. “That guy’s a piece of work. First he cheats on you—which by the way, if you ask me he needs a good fist to the jaw—and then he shows up here like you two are friends.”
“He was just being—”
“What? Don’t say it.”
Hannah pursed her lips. “Nice.”
“Smart ass,” he said. “You want to explain that kiss?”
She touched two fingers to her lips and blushed. Nate schooled his features, even though he felt slightly territorial by her subconscious move. Liked the kiss, huh? Me, too. Hannah dropped her hand, her soft, pink lips opening on a shocked O before closing again. “I wanted to give my shitty ex the middle finger, so I kissed you.”
He grinned. “I think you should know your lips taste like bubble gum. I liked it. They reminded me of my childhood.”
“How about we scratch old-time’s sake and shake on this fake engagement stuff?” Her eyes lit with interest. “A week tops, right?”
Not exactly what he had in mind. Instead of her being all swoony, he’d pulled a chick move wondering why that kiss didn’t flip her switch. Like it had his.
Check: one man-card coming right up.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yep.”
Something dawned on her face, the same something he’d witnessed in himself whenever he got an idea.
“I think I was wrong about your plan earlier.” Hannah butted her chest up against his, leveling their mouths millimeters apart. “This could work, you know? We don’t find each other attractive. You need to fix the screwup with your business deal, and it seems like I need a plus one to a wedding.”
A muscle worked in
his jaw. “I never said I don’t find you attractive.”
“Fine, you didn’t.” She gave him that girl-next-door smile he loved so much. “But you did say I wasn’t the girl. That’s why you’ll make the perfect wedding date. You won’t try to get in my pants.”
If she only knew how hard agreeing to her terms was going to be.
He grumbled, feeling slightly irritable toward her comment. “So no to sexing it up? Got it.” He scratched his chin. “Anything else on the fake fiancé wedding agenda?”
“Don’t break my heart, okay? I know this thing between us…well, isn’t real…but don’t make me regret shaking on our deal. I already had to kick one douche cannon out of my life and I don’t really want a repeat.”
He placed his hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear not to fuck this up.”
“Got your phone on you so I can give you my address?”
“Sure.” He fished his cell from his front jeans pocket and handed it to her. A beat passed as he watched her type in her address before giving him back his phone.
“It’s a date.” Her face beamed as she lifted up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll see you at my apartment on Friday. We’re headed to the Hill Country, Fox.”
Then she turned and escaped inside the daycare, leaving him pleasantly confused. Yeah, she might have agreed to play his fake fiancée, and he should be thrilled. Mostly, he was. Although he knew without a doubt their Hill Country wedding weekend would test his willpower more than that time he went with Jack to the Alamo Draft House and they found themselves stuck in a Notebook movie marathon.
Chapter 3
Sliding one eye closed then the other, Hannah watched Nate morph into ate on the fogged-up mirror. She continued to vigorously brush her teeth, debating bitch-slapping the proverbial angel on her shoulder dishing out a disapproving glare. Agreeing to a fake engagement with Nate was right up there with that time she thought dog walking would be a good career move.
And, God, they’d kissed. At that moment all her silly little girl dreams had come true. Sort of. Well, if it hadn’t been initiated only as an opportunity to dig at her ex, it would’ve.
But Hannah had to admit the plan made sense. She would have gone to the wedding alone, because being a good friend sometimes sucked monkey balls, and felt pathetic sitting around all the happy couples. Now she could show up with a man on her arm, a devastatingly handsome man, smile and say the right things. Effectively proving to Henry and everyone else that she had gotten past his douchiness and she could stand on her own two feet.
Although the way her pulse skipped a beat around Nate could become problematic. But it didn’t matter, because the wedding was, well, it would not be a trip for romance. She didn’t do players. She had guy standards, and her main man wouldn’t have an allergic reaction to relationships. Period.
She spat toothpaste into the sink and reminded herself that she knew the type of man Nate was—commitment phobe, to the moon and back, with a revolving bedroom door that slapped the plastic-enhanced girls on the behind, commencing their walk of shame. So he was a safe bet to take to the wedding. Right, squeaky romance-free clean.
With a quick ruffle of her bedhead she pinned the messy curls into a bun, feeling invigorated to drive to the wedding with Nate, and pushed through the bathroom door. A high-pitched squeal accompanied by cold milk sloshing down her tank top confirmed she ran into her roommate, and before she could divert another disaster a spoon whacked her on the cheek.
“Did you just spoon whack me?”
The milk had started to dribble down her belly and into her pajama pants.
Oh. Joy.
Willow Green, health-nut yoga teacher and her roommate ever since Hannah had answered Willow’s room for rent ad in the newspaper, beamed a smile and made the spoon dance in the air. “Maybe I spoon whacked you. And maybe I asked an old friend to be my fake fiancé to my ex-boyfriend’s sister’s wedding. Did you even fill your brother in on this hairbrained plan of yours?” Willow mumbled through a mouthful of cereal. “It’s big-brother level needs-to-know alert status.”
“I don’t have to alert the family on every decision I make. Nate’s just watching my back at a wedding, okay?” Hannah slapped at the pesky utensil. “It’s no big deal.”
The spoon thwacked her cheek again. “Yep, I think I might have whacked you with a spoon.”
She sucked in air through her teeth, wishing she’d hid all the cereal spoons from her roomie.
“It was a mutual agreement. Besides, I wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for your awesome blow-up doll shopping spree idea.” She pried her soggy shirt away from her skin and copped a glance at the valley between her boobs. A single red Fruit Loop was hanging out in her cleavage. She plucked the cereal off her chest and flicked it at Willow. “Now I have to take a shower, and I’m already running late.”
“Say ‘thank you, Willow Green, for making my dirty dreams comes true,’ and I’ll be your wedding packing bitch.”
“He’s a friend of my brother, well used to be,” she pointed out. “Thanks to the little porno incident, not only will I be attending the wedding as a woman scorned but one with a rap sheet as well.”
The spoon dangled from Willow’s bottom lip. “Fine, I’ll agree, but at least you might actually get to see his junk this time, right?”
“Willow!”
“Hey, you got arrested for blowing Nate Fox!” Willow slurped the milk from the bowl, regarding her critically. “I think I’m owed a little Q&A session before you jump in the car with the guy to drive off to Hill Country paradise.”
She gaped at her roomie. “We already went over this, and we both agreed I was cock trapped.”
Willow, in her cock-talking excitement, dropped the bowl from her hands and splashed cereal across the bathroom tile. “No, you agreed. I was thinking about you and Nate Fox’s man junk being in the same room.”
“Does your mind ever take a breather from that gutter it resides in?” she asked.
“Once a month for five days straight,” her bestie added, a grin bursting her lips wide open.
It dawned on her that her roommate might accidentally open her mouth and spill the most crucial secret of her life: that her engagement to Nate Fox was faker than a pair of stripper boobs. Cue more mortification if that happened. And it wouldn’t; not if she had any say in it. So Hannah did the only thing she could do and placed a hand over heart, looked at Willow, and said, “Do you pledge to cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die that you won’t blab a word about this engagement with Nate not being real?”
Willow made a zipper motion over her mouth. “Sealed tight. Besides I’m not going to ruin your sham fairy tale. I sort of like you all smiley again.”
Hannah took a deep breath and nudged past Willow to turn on the shower. “This week will be over before I know it, and then we can go back to being single in the city together. And I finally get to put Henry and my past mistakes behind me.”
“Whatever. You call them mistakes. I’m going to call them hiccups to putting you on the right path in life.” Willow ripped a towel off the bath rack, tossing the cotton terry cloth over the spilled cereal. “And I’m also giving one big fist-pump to porn encounters of the closest kind.”
Hannah observed her friend and wholeheartedly regretted that drunken night when they played truth or dare after her breakup with Henry, and she admitted her long-standing crush on Nate Fox and how no man would ever compare to him. Jeez. Whiskey had always loosened her tongue, and boy did she give a detailed account of her unrequited love fest. Screw Johnny Walker Black.
She looked at Willow. “Ever going to let me live down that drunken night.”
Willow slung her arm across Hannah’s shoulders and tugged her close. “Look at you trying to suck all the fun out of my life. You, though, smell like milk, and I think you’re spot-on about needing a shower.” She smacked her behind. “Hurry it up. You don’t want to make lover boy wait.”
With that sweet en
dearment, Willow closed the bathroom door on their exchange. As Hannah stripped out of her clothes, she hoped like crazy going to the wedding with Nate wasn’t another big oops in a long line of life screwups.
Nate lowered his sunglasses and took a much needed deep breath when he saw Hannah wheeling a pink suitcase down the apartment steps. She’d tucked her fire-engine red hair under a hat, and really, all things considered, it looked more like an umbrella straw used to top off fruity cocktail drinks. Chunky lime-green jewelry dipped down the valley between her stunning cleavage, and annoyance smacked him upside the head that they hadn’t even started the wedding road trip and he was already checking her out.
I’m so fucked.
He grumbled, irritated more at himself than her. Truth be told, he liked Hannah just the way she was, with her bold-pattern fondness and quirky disposition. She was going to fucking kill him by way of the best damn cleavage attack ever. He could pretend that kiss meant nothing. But he’d never been that great at being a good boy.
The woman driving him crazy looked at him, and they exchanged smiles. Her lips parted and an image flashed in his head of her throwing both arms around his neck and kissing him. Like real lovers.
Christ. Kissing her had been a bad idea. Now all he wanted to do was reenact it over, and over again. Taste those soft pink lips once more until she begged him to take her up against the wall and fuck.
Shit, snap out of it. This is just a business exchange between two people who need to keep up appearances.
“Hey! Let me help you with that bag.” He rushed up the stairs and grabbed her bag, brushing his knuckles against hers. There was a solitary beat that passed between them before she released her hold on the luggage. And he actually missed her touch. Shaking off the thought, he started to pull the luggage behind him. “I packed us some water and snacks for the trip. And feel free to hog the radio. I’m not one of those who believes the driver should pick the tunes because they’re behind the wheel.”