by T. Torrest
“Who’s Ainsley?”
Who’s Ainsley? Ainsley was only the sweetest most beautiful girl I’d ever met in my life, that’s all. No way I was gonna gush about all that to Jared, though. I already felt like a complete sap. “You’ll meet her next week,” I said instead, swinging my club and sending my ball hurling across the green.
“Is she hot?”
That made me snicker. “She’s... perfect.”
Jared had taken to hacking away at his ball. “So, what’s the problem? You must find yourself in this situation all the time.”
That one threw me enough that I couldn’t concentrate on my swing. I lowered my club to the ground and crossed my hands on top of the grip. “What do you mean?”
“Well, these women are your personal pet projects. It’s the Pygmalion syndrome. You fall in love with your creation.”
I’d always been proud of what I was able to turn these women into but I never fell for any of them. “No. This is a first for me.”
“Well, how do you normally handle this stuff? Like, with a regular girl?”
“I don’t.”
His club froze in midair as he looked at me in disbelief. “Are you trying to say you’ve never had a girlfriend before? I’m starting to think I should be asking for a refund, here.”
“No. I’ve had girlfriends, just no one serious. I’ve never been in love with any of them. I’ve never been in love at all before.”
There went my attempt to hang onto my cool.
“Well, why would you,” he said on yet another unproductive swing.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Well, look at you. If I had the looks and the money and the game that you do, studmuffin, I’d never settle down either. I’d be too busy banging every hot chick I met. Why do you think I took this course?”
I crossed my arms and raised an accusing brow in his direction. “Please tell me after all I’ve tried to teach you that you’re not just looking to get laid.”
“No, man. Of course not,” he laughed. “I did this for me first and foremost. I’m down ten pounds. My arms are starting to develop actual muscle. I’m feeling pretty great about it. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to testing my new self out on the ladies.”
I snickered as I teed up my final ball. “Well, let’s go hit the bar and see what we can do.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“That’s it. Nice and easy.”
Ainsley and I were in the parking lot of an abandoned strip mall for today’s assignment. She was behind the wheel of my Aston Martin, attempting to give it a little more gas. The car lurched for a second until Ainsley slammed on the brakes—hurtling me toward the dashboard—and I threw my hand out to stop myself from crashing through the windshield.
The car started to roll as she turned toward me to ask, “Oh no! Are you okay?”
“Brake!” I yelled, causing Ainsley to floor the gas again, until she realized her mistake and slammed the brakes instead. At least I was prepared for the abrupt stop that time. “Put the car in park. Please.”
She did it, amidst profuse apologies. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! Why can’t I do this?”
“You can do this. Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s not easy to learn something new.”
“It doesn’t look nearly this difficult from the backseat.”
I chuckled at that one. Ainsley had been pampered her entire life, been driven everywhere she ever needed to go. It probably never occurred to her to learn to do it herself. If it had, she realized there was no need.
In any case, our little driver’s ed mishap was the first relaxed moment I’d had all day. I’d spent the past hours in her presence freaking out over my “love” realization, and had reverted to my default mode of “strictly business” because of it.
“Well,” I explained, “that’s why I arranged this lesson. It’s good to learn how to do things for yourself.”
“Good how?”
“Self-sufficiency equals self-esteem.”
She pursed her lips, eyeing me skeptically. “Mmm. Hmm.”
“Would you like to try again?”
But instead of putting the car in gear, she continued staring at me. Her curious blue eyes were making me nervous, so I broke the gaze to redirect my attention toward the radio. I was absently flipping through the stations when she called me out. “You’re acting weird today.”
It was the truth, of course, but I didn’t want to admit it. “How so?”
She ran her hands over the steering wheel and shrugged. “You’ve been very... businesslike all day.”
That I had. I was too afraid of letting my emotions slip, so I compensated by going in the completely opposite direction. But instead of cool and casual, I was coming across as a robot. Guess she noticed.
I forced a smile and tried out a joke. “I’m a businessman. See? I’ve got the suit and everything.” That made her giggle. “Besides,” I added, babbling through my nervousness, “you’re not paying me to goof around.”
She turned toward me and shot back, “I like when you goof around.” Her eyes lingered on mine for an extra beat, causing my pulse to speed up.
Shit.
“Yeah, okay, good to know,” I said. “Sorry. Guess I’m just having an off day.”
“I also like it when you flirt with me.”
Wait. What?
I was speechless at that bit of news, and could only stare at her in shock. “You do?”
“Yes. It makes me all nervous in the most amazing way. Like I’m scared and excited and intrigued all at the same time.”
“It does?”
“God yes.”
Holy shit. Was this really happening? I found myself inching closer toward her side of the car, staring at her lips as I said, “Well then maybe I should keep it up.”
Keeping it up wasn’t going to be a problem. It had been “up” since the start of this conversation.
We were locked onto each other’s eyes, my heart hammering in my goddamn chest... because I knew I was going to kiss her. I didn’t even think about it, didn’t try to talk myself out of it. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I was going to knot my hands in the back of her golden hair and pull her face to mine, slip my tongue between those gorgeous, full lips and unleash all the pent-up desire I’d had for her since the first minute I met her. Sweet and soft for as long as I could stand it, then rough and unyielding until the two of us burst into flames.
I swallowed hard as my hand raised on its own to touch her hair. But before my fingers could even make contact with a single strand, she said, “It helps pull me out of my shell. It shows me what sexy is supposed to look like. I’ve been taking mental notes to use all these lines on Blake.”
I could practically hear the record scratch. “Wait. What? Who’s Blake?”
“Blake Atwood.”
My eyes tightened as I took in the name of one of the city’s most prominent real estate developers. I knew who he was of course, but I couldn’t quite understand what he had to do with this conversation. “What about him?”
Her eyes found the hands in her lap as she explained, “I told you I was husband hunting, remember? Our parents are friends. I’ve had a crush on him since we were fifteen.”
Fuck!
Here I’d been, assuming if I could just bide my time, Ainsley would be mine for the taking at the end of our eight weeks together. But she only came to me because she wanted my help to land another guy. Not just husband hunting in general, but a specific fucking guy.
Even still, Atwood wasn’t going to be an easy catch. The guy was a known playboy, confounding when you take into consideration that he was an absolute tool bag. But when you ran with the rich and the powerful, the babes were never far behind.
I finally snapped back to attention and was able to find some words. “Blake Atwood? Really?”
“I know it sounds stupid. I just… We just have so much in common. Honestly, we’d be perfect together! He just doesn’t know i
t yet.”
“Well then he’s a fool.”
The thought of a finite deadline for our time together used to fill me with impatience. Now, it was causing an inexplicable pang in my stomach. I didn’t like the idea of having to say goodbye, and I sure as hell didn’t like the idea of handing her over to another guy when I did.
The realization hit me hard; a sucker-punch to the gut.
How the hell did I fail to see it coming?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I woke up sicker than a dog on Sunday morning. Probably nothing more than a nasty cold, but it was enough to incapacitate me. I was barely able to roll over and pick up the phone.
Mia was being a pain in the ass about taking the course at Miss Melanie’s, so I’d been secretly plotting an alternative plan for this morning. But now there was no way to carry out the surprise.
“Mia,” I mumbled into the phone. “I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to reschedule our appointment.”
“You sound like shit.”
“I feel like it, too.” For more reasons than one.
“Awww,” she busted. “But I was so looking forward to learning how to be a proper lady.”
Against my better will, I found myself snickering. “It’s not just salad forks and pinky popping,” I defended. “The right school will also train you in business etiquette.”
“I know how to shake hands and look someone in the eye. I know not to pick my teeth with the expense report in the middle of a meeting. I know these things already, Luke. I’ve told you this.”
“Well, in any case, you wouldn’t have had to go anyway.”
“What do you mean? Giving up on me already?”
“No,” I chuckled. “I was going to swap out your day at finishing school for breakfast at The Russian Tea Room instead.”
“Oh, man! I would’ve loved that!”
“I figured as much.”
“It sucks that you’re sick.”
“Sure does.” As if on cue, my body heaved with spastic coughing.
Before I could apologize, Mia said, “Hey. Why don’t I come over? You obviously need someone to look after you.”
It sucked that she was right. Of course my father had chosen this weekend to take one of his rare business trips, and I didn’t feel comfortable asking any of the help to play nursemaid to me. Besides, I was a grown man, for godsakes. I could take care of myself.
I got myself under control and shot back, “No, Mia. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine! What’s your address?”
From any other client, the question would have seemed bizarre. But ever since that trip out to Sleepy Hollow, Mia had started to feel less like a client and more like a friend I was helping out. Well, I guess in the case of today, she was trying to help me out.
There was a bit of back-and-forth, but since Mia wouldn’t let it go, I finally caved and gave up the info. If she wanted to risk getting the plague, I wasn’t going to stop her. Not that I could. That chick normally did whatever the hell she wanted anyway.
I managed to drag myself down the hallway to unlock the side door, then into the shower before getting dressed and sinking back into my bed. I got pretty tied up in a Walking Dead binge—appropriately enough—but it was only a couple hours later that there was a knock on my bedroom door.
“Come in!” I yelled, the sheer exertion of which had me coughing all over again.
Mia breezed in, took one look at me, and snarked, “Wow, you look great.”
“Save the commentary, Cruz. Have some respect for the dead.” I blew my nose and threw the tissue in the garbage pail. “Guess you found the place okay.”
“Yeah. It was pretty easy. Well, I mean, I took an Uber,” she answered, scanning her eyes around my bedroom. “I think I went to the wrong door, though. Unless you forgot to unlock it. Anyway, I rang the bell and your butler let me in.”
“William isn’t a butler,” I defended. “He’s an estate manager.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake like there’s any difference.”
I chuckled through a cough as Mia made herself comfortable in the wing chair next to my bed. She dropped a big cloth bag at her feet before smoothing her hands over the fabric of the chair. “This is some house. Makeovers must pay well.”
“It’s not mine. I live here with my father.”
She raised a questioning eyebrow at me. “And how old are you?”
“Twenty-eight, wiseass.”
She pulled off her beige poncho and draped it over the back of the chair. She was wearing a matching beige top underneath. Damn. I was really looking forward to introducing some color into her monochromatic wardrobe. “Twenty-eight. And you obviously make a good living for yourself.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Sooo why not get your own place?”
I snickered to myself as I answered, “Because my father thinks keeping an eye on me is the only reason I stay alive.”
When Mia’s face scrunched, I gave her the short version of my life story. “When I was twelve, I almost died. Nasty-ass car accident. Dad feels safer keeping me close.” I pulled my hair back to show her the scar on my forehead. She leaned in closer to inspect the pale line as I added, “The place is big enough that it’s like living on my own anyway. We could easily go days without bumping into each other.”
“Do you?”
I couldn’t help but grin. “No. Never.”
Mia returned my grin with a warm smile of her own. “So,” she started in, changing the subject, “How are you feeling?”
Like shit. Like a fucking heartbroken idiot. I pulled a tissue from the box and blew my nose. “Like my own body is trying to waterboard me.”
“Congested?”
“Yes. Head and body aches, runny nose. And these tissues suck.”
“Well, lucky for you I brought provisions.” She grabbed the bag at her feet and started rifling through it, pulling out a cavalcade of seemingly random items and placing them on my nightstand one by one. “Nyquil. A quart of chicken noodle soup from Dean and DeLuca. Gatorade. Lots and lots of Airborne. And...” she shoved all the stuff out of the way to present me with the final item. “A box of Puffs Plus so you don’t shred your nose.”
“Wow, thanks. Looks like you thought of everything.” I dove for the soup and popped the lid, grateful that Mia thought to bring a spoon.
She paused her unpacking to gauge my reaction. “How is it?”
“I think it’s good... Too bad my taste buds are so screwed up. Want some?”
“No thanks. I grabbed something before I came.”
How could she know this is exactly what I needed today? I was already feeling better. “I can’t believe you brought all this stuff over. Really. Above and beyond, Cruz. It was really cool of you to come take care of me. Thanks.”
“Just take it off my bill,” she said on a shy smile. “Besides, I didn’t even show you the best part yet.” She reached back into the bag and pulled out a stack of DVDs. “I brought some movies! I’ve got Heart-Shaped Box, Unleaded, and Swayed.”
I couldn’t help but notice the common theme between all three of her chosen films. “You a Trip Wiley fan?”
“Who isn’t?”
I tried to be cool as I said, “No, he’s a good actor. I guess I just didn’t realize you were into blond guys.”
“I’m into that blond guy!”
My stomach kind of sank when she said that. Which caught me off guard, to say the least. I didn’t know where the pang was coming from. What was the big deal? So she had a crush on an actor. Lots of people did. I didn’t know why I was getting so caught up over it. I guess maybe because I looked nothing like the guy, and to tell you the truth, maybe I was a little jealous.
She tossed the movies onto the bed with a shrug and dove back into her bag. “I also brought Some Kind of Wonderful and The Princess Bride.”
I could only roll my eyes. “Really?”
Mia hugged the boxes to her chest. “Only The Most Romantic Movies Ever M
ade!”
Her exhilaration made me laugh, and I almost choked on my spoonful of soup.
She added the boxes to the pile on the bed and continued, “Aaaand, since we have to improvise on my etiquette training, I was also able to dig out an old copy of,” she pulled her hand out of the bag with a flourish and held the DVD out toward me. “Dat-da-da-dahhhh! My Fair Lady!”
That made me chuckle. I guess she found a way to do her assignment today after all.
“I’ll leave the rest here for you to marathon on your own, but I figured you’d want us to watch this one together. These are my own copies, so take care of them.”
She hopped off the chair and slid the DVD into my Playstation. I fiddled with the remotes to get the movie started as Mia made herself comfortable back in the chair.
I was looking forward to having something else to distract me from my misery, but I guess it was hard to stay focused on a movie I’d already seen before. My head had been consumed with thoughts of Ainsley and Blake Toolbag Atwood since yesterday afternoon, and the sudden lack of conversation between Mia and me had me thinking about it all over again. Over the past twenty-four hours, I’d worked myself up into quite the frothing rage. I didn’t say much throughout the first half of the movie, resorting to absent, one-word answers until she finally gave up talking to me altogether. I’d almost forgotten she was even here.
That was, until she said, “I would totally fuck Professor Higgins.”
The declaration knocked me right the hell out of my moping. “What?”
“You heard me.”
I gaped at her in shock. “Are you serious? He’s such a weenie.”
“What can I say?” she shrugged. “I’ve got a thing for smart guys.”
And blond guys. And redheads. And guys who wear masks and rescue princesses. In other words, guys who were nothing like me. What did that say about the type of guy I was if I wasn’t even good enough for a girl like her? “You’ve apparently got a thing for lots of guys.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just forget it,” I said, a little more forcefully than I intended.