Catching Mr. Right

by Misti Murphy

  “Pretending to fuck,” I amend, ignoring the hardness of my erection pressing against my zipper.

  “Well clearly we aren’t really going to have sex.” She purses her mouth and taps a finger against her lip before she laughs. “We’re going to make him so jealous he can’t stand it.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  With a squeal, she throws her arms around my neck and presses her tits up against my chest, food be damned. “Thanks, Cas. You’re the best.”

  “Okay, okay.” I let her hold onto me a minute too long, because it feels so damn good to have her there. Then I disentangle her arms from my neck and press her back. “I need to head back to the ranch. How about I walk you home?”

  “Can we grab ice cream on the way?” She stands and starts gathering the empty containers and packets. “My treat.”

  “Sure.” I take the trash from her and dump it in the trashcan. “Let’s go do that.” And then we’ll get to work on this fucked up plan I concocted. It’s supposed to keep her out of my hair. Why do I have the feeling I may have just made things worse for myself?

  Chapter Seven

  SAM

  I’m waiting in line at Cream where a pimply faced youth in a white shirt and one of those old timey caps is scooping balls of ice cream and shoving it into cones. I just want a damn milkshake.

  The electronic doorbell goes off as more people join the line. It’s hot for this late in the evening. The sun’s all but melted from the sky like a Salvador Dali painting, and I’m pretty certain on my way over I heard someone complaining about the bottom of their shoes sticking to the sun baked blacktop. All I want is to get my giant cup of liquid ice cream and return to the restaurant so I can make a call to my boss. Then I’m going back to my hotel and stripping out of these sticky clothes.

  Five minutes later, I’m standing in front of the kid who is busy making my milkshake. I thumb through my wallet and pull out a couple notes when he hands over my drink. Depositing them in his hand, I scoop up the tall cup and head for the door. I’m almost all the way out of the store before I see her. And that guy from the first night I arrived in town is with her. Casper Morgan. He was the one who thought she and I were together, and now he has his arm draped loosely around her waist. “Mandy?”

  She cuts off mid-conversation to look at me. “Sam, what are you doing here?”

  “Milkshake.” I hold the cup up. “You?”

  “Thought we’d grab some ice cream before we head back to my place.” She darts a glance at her new friend. “Cas and I had dinner together.”

  “Oh, right.” What am I supposed to say? The girl is gorgeous. Of course she’s going to have guys clambering for her. If I was ten years younger I’d have taken her to bed the minute she told me she wanted me to. It would have been awkward since it would have been Summer’s bed, but Mandy Pearce is enough to make a younger version of me crazy. And quite possibly the older version of me too, if the way I’ve masturbated over her is any indication. But there’s a difference between forgetting myself in my imagination and doing it in real life. This guy isn’t any younger than I am either, but he clearly has no morals. “Well, I’ve got to make a call.”

  “Have a nice night,” she tells me, tucking herself in closer to Cas, who takes the opportunity to ogle her tits.

  Sleaze. My phone chirps in my pocket, and I pull it out.

  “It’s Summer. I have to take this. I’ll see you around.” I stalk away from them, phone already to my ear. When I get out the door and turn onto the pavement, Mandy raises her hand halfway and wiggles her fingers.

  I almost wave back, but my hands are full, and she’s drawn back in by whatever that pervert is saying. And really, it isn’t any of my business. “I just saw Mandy with that Casper Moron she’s working with.”

  “It’s Morgan, and you don’t need to snap at me.”

  I flinch at the way her voice bursts through the speaker. “Sorry. It’s too damn hot.”

  “Sure. Blame the weather for your mood.”

  Well, fuck. What else am I going to blame it on? Certainly not Mandy, or that creep who has his hand casually slung over her shoulder in an effort to cop a feel. What she does and who she does it with are none of my business. “It’s been a long day, and now I’m late for a conference call because I got stuck talking to your friend. And her date. Did you know she was out to dinner with him tonight?”

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Summer interrupts me. “I think they might be dating now.”

  “Dating?” I suck hard on the end of the wide straw poking out the lid of the cup. “As in more than one dinner?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s all happened pretty quickly. One minute we were talking about you, the next she’s kissed that guy and going to dinner with him. Maybe he’s her new dream man. Or at least wants to be, because those were his words.”

  “Christ.” I pinch the bridge of my nose as I’m attacked by a bout of brain freeze. What is it they say about getting rid of the awful pain? I slam my tongue to the roof of my mouth and massage the spot between my brows. Doesn’t fucking help.

  “Are you not happy about that?” my sister questions. “I thought that was what you wanted. For her to leave you alone.”

  “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be happy that she’s found someone else to harass? Ugh, I gave myself an ice cream headache over this crap.”

  “Over Mandy?”

  “No.” I glower at the cup in my hand. “Over this dumb vanilla milkshake. It tastes worse than one of Sasha’s diet mixes.”

  “Sure.” I can practically hear my sister rolling her gaze at the phone. “Anyway, you probably don’t need to worry about Mandy trying to seduce you anymore.”

  “That’s good.” I guess. I scuff the toe of my boot against the asphalt. Why don’t I feel more relief over that? Because she’s hanging out with a guy who is taking advantage of her, and since she’s my sister’s friend I should probably go in and defend her. Or maybe I should move away from the front of the ice cream shop before Mandy and her new beau come out the door. Turning in the direction of the restaurant, I start moving. “Aren’t her friends at all worried about her dating a guy so much older than her?”

  “Sam, she told me you called her too young and immature. Is that true? Because you know she and I are almost the same age, and Gabe and you are, so—”

  Just once I wish I could tell her why I worry about her dating guys that are older than her. And it’s not even that she’s dating two of them at the same time that gives me the most anxiety. It’s that love just isn’t enough to bridge the social gaps. But I don’t tell her that I know this first hand, because then I’d have to explain how I know it, and that’s not a discussion I will ever have with my sister.

  “I love you, Sum. And I told you I’ll accept whatever you choose for your life, but I still think those guys are too old for you. And Mandy fucking Pearce is way too young for me to even think of as a woman.”

  And yet I am. Thinking about her. Fantasizing about her. Imagining her with me instead of that guy, right now, while I talk to my sister about all the reasons I will never let on that I do. Christ, she has that affect though. She’s like an earworm, getting inside my brain no matter how much I pretend I’m deaf to her. I’ve never met anyone quite like her. Actually, that’s probably a good thing, because I don’t think the world could handle more than one Mandy Pearce.

  “Seriously? Do you know how judgemental and—and ridiculous you sound?” Summer huffs. “Do you realize how much you sound like our mother?”

  “Take that back.” I mock growl at the phone. “I may be a lot of things, but I am nowhere near as bad as Sasha Sweets, exercise junkie and queen diva. I never make you eat salad.”

  Summer chortles. In the background, Dylan asks what’s so funny. “Okay, I’m going to hang up and leave you to your sulking. Come ‘round for dinner tomorrow night. You won’t even have to cook.”

  “Sure. Wait, what? I’m not sulking.”

/>   “Of course you are,” Summer says. “I can hear it in your voice. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Bye.”

  She hangs up on me while I’m still wondering why she thinks I’m brooding. There’s nothing to brood about. At least not when it comes to the subject of our conversation. No, I’m not moping over Mandy’s sudden desertion for another guy. That’s for the best. I’m perfectly content, actually.

  Except I still have to make that call to Josef about the restaurant. And I still have to work out how I’m going to explain to him that I’m done with his daughter. Once I figure out how to break it off with her first. All without losing my job. If I’m brooding over anything, it’s whether I’m going to have a life to go back to when I head home to L.A.

  Not Mandy.

  Nope, Mandy is just a girl who doesn’t hold my thoughts hostage at all.

  ***

  Breathe in. Breathe out. Keep going.

  Thud, thud, thud.

  It’s practically an oven outside already. It never cools down in this godforsaken place. My T-shirt sticks to me. My footfalls echo on the path that winds around the lake. Thirty-six years old, and my knees aren’t what they used to be. They creak and pop far too much. I push harder until my muscles start to burn. Oxygen bursts out of my mouth and gets pulled in through my nose. Unlike Summer, I don’t mind exercise.

  Most of the time. It’s not clearing my mind the way it normally does though. I had an email from Josef about changes to the fit out. Some of them are things I signed off on yesterday, and now have to order the contractors to rip out and change. Not that the men I’ve been overseeing are going to care if it means an extra few dollars in their pockets, but it’s the added hours, the extra time that has to go into the project before D-day that makes me antsy. Top that off with images of Mandy whirling through my mind, and I’m screwed.

  I come to a stuttering halt, bend forward and plant my hands on my knees while I drag mouthfuls of air into my lungs. It’s been ten days since the last time I saw her. I know this because that’s how many times I’ve woken up hard and leaking jizz like a teenager. Slammed into awareness with my imagination still hung up on her naked body straddling mine. Or running past me in the tiniest pink shorts with the word juicy across the butt, her silvery ponytail swinging against her shoulder while she blows me an air kiss over her shoulder.

  Wait. What?

  I straighten as she turns to focus on where she’s going. I’ve been running this track now for almost two weeks and this is the first time I’ve seen her. I didn’t even know she ran. I had no idea she ran fast. It takes me a few minutes to catch up with her. It’ll probably take me less time to fall behind. “Hey.”

  She snubs me. No, not ignores me. There are wires from earbuds, so I raise my voice and try again. “Hey.”

  She swivels her head, pulls out an earbud and slows down. “Hey. I thought you were finished. Otherwise, I would have offered to run with you.”

  Thank God, she reduces her speed. My heart rate slows a little, and I can breathe a bit more easily. “You don’t run here normally.”

  She raises an eyebrow, and yes, I did sound like I was accusing her of something now that it’s out there. “I like to switch it up every now and then. It’s only the last two weeks that I haven’t run here at least twice a week.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t intend for it to sound like—”

  “You were accusing me of stalking you? Or that I took up running because I wanted you to chase my kitty?”

  “Uh, no.” She’s dating that guy now so clearly… “Isn’t that guy too old for you? He’s what, mid-thirties?”

  “So?” She halts abruptly, both hands gripping her waist as she stares at me. “You’re in your mid-thirties.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter, feeling fucking old with my inability to keep up with her as easily as I once would have been able to. “And that’s still more than a decade older than you. What is it with you and old men? Do you have daddy issues?”

  “Hard to have daddy issues when you never had one.” She shrugs and drops her gaze to the tip of her pink running shoes. “They’re more like anti-daddy issues.”

  “I don’t think that’s a thing.” I walk a circle, trying to keep my desire to throttle her from getting the better of me. “I don’t understand you and Summer. Is old age the new orange, or purple, or whatever it is?”

  “It’s black, or maybe in my case pink.” She grins and bites her lip. “And no. Why are you so hung up on it anyway?”

  Why am I? Why does her interest in older men bother me so much? Maybe because relationships with huge age gaps aren’t meant to work out, and then people get hurt. They fall in love without realizing how complicated things will get when one’s ready to settle down and the other isn’t because they’re only just discovering themselves. I scrub a hand up the back of my neck and exhale. “Maybe because I have more experience when it comes to relationships than you and Summer do, and I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

  “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal of it though. Especially since we’re not talking about someone you’re dating. Summer’s relationship, and mine, aren’t the same as your experience.” She peers at me, her eyes widening. “Unless you’re telling me the age gap isn’t as big a deal to you after all.”

  “Okay, you got me. I haven’t had the exact same experience as you.” I put my hands up in surrender. If she doesn’t want to listen that’s her business. Not mine. In the same way that her long golden legs shouldn’t be my preoccupation. The way her sports bra melds to her perky tits is also not on my agenda.

  Okay, no one believes that. I have a dick. I notice.

  I just don’t want to.

  “But someone has to keep an eye out for you or you’re likely to get yourself into trouble. And that guy.” I fling my arm out, not in any particular direction. “That guy is taking advantage of your naivety.”

  Mandy stares at me for a moment. Straight faced, her lips slightly parted. A pleasing blush fills her cheeks and the area across the top of her breasts above the line of her top, probably from the running. “You think I’m naïve? You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

  “No, I don’t.” I scrub a hand through my hair, bring it away damp with sweat. “I think you have no clue, which is why you’re wishy washy and after men who, let’s face it, want things you aren’t ready for.”

  “Like what?” she says, staring me down. Those green eyes are daring me to speak only truth. I tread closer to her, and yeah, it’s not such a smart move. Is that black cherry, patchouli, and salt I can smell? Holy shit, it’s mouth watering. “Because my virginity isn’t on the table, so you can’t be worried about my virtue.”

  I gape at her. “Your virginity? You think I’m talking about sex?”

  And now I am. Thinking about it too. Thinking about her crushed between me and one of the oak tree trunks behind us. The rough bark, my rough hands, her satiny skin. Soft glossy lips. Her, breathy and moaning.

  “I’m talking about life experience, about whether you have things in common, whether you really want to find yourself barefoot in some man’s kitchen and popping out babies when you could be out partying, and travelling, and enjoying everything life has to offer.”

  “Cas isn’t like that,” she says, furrowing her brow. “He’s not thinking about that kind of thing. He can barely handle having me in the kitchen in the first place.”

  “Of course he is.” I capture her wrist, wrap my fingers around her slim arm. I need to make her understand that he isn’t right for her.

  For a moment she drops her gaze to where I’m holding her, then she looks me dead in the eye. “Are you sure we’re talking about Cas?”

  “Yes. Who else would we be talking about?”

  Oh shit. Way to go, jackass. She’s going to say I’m talking about myself. I’m not. I’m truly not. Just because I know what that creep is thinking doesn’t mean anything.

  “You.” Thick eyelashes flutter against go
lden skin, and my dick does what it’s been doing so well since I got to Reverence and jumps to attention. “You actually do like me, don’t you?”

  “Nope. That’s not it.” I release her wrist and go to take a step back.

  She doesn’t let me. Moving closer, she holds my attention with one hand running down my sticky chest. “You’re jealous I chose Cas.”

  “You didn’t choose him.” I throw the words at her, pushing into her touch. It feels damn good, a trail of fire on my hot skin. So does her ponytail, when I twist the damp, silky tendrils in my fist. Her hip is perfect in my grasp, that spot beneath her earlobe satiny soft under my lips. “You didn’t choose that sleaze. The only reason you’re with him is because I told you I didn’t want you.”

  Her breath hitches. Her jaw moves as she swallows. I swear her scent becomes muskier. My gut tightens with the urge to slip my mouth to her lips. Her voice wobbles though she tries to hide it. “And now you’re jealous.”

  Me? Jealous? Envious that she’s with some other guy? Hell yeah. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I ran into them at the ice cream shop over a week ago. I skim my lips across her cheek toward her mouth. “Maybe. A little bit.”

  She shoves her palms into my chest as I go to kiss her. Pushes me away until no part of me is touching her. Shaking her head, she puts her fingers to her lips. Is she thinking about how close we came to kissing? Then she takes off up the track, calling out over her shoulder, “I’m with Cas now. I’m not going to kiss other guys behind his back just because you’re a little jealous.”

  So she’s serious about him? She’s done with me? Why does that piss me off more than all her come ons did? Worse, I reacted like I planned on doing something about the situation. Does she think I would have kissed her? Did I really admit her being with another guy makes me jealous? Because it doesn’t. Not one iota. Not at all.

  I’m only looking out for her best interests, and that isn’t Casper Morgan. So what if pink lips and green eyes make my mouth water. Who cares if this past year, in my head, she’s spent more nights in my bed than any flesh and bone woman? I cup my hands to my mouth and yell, “I’m not jealous. I wasn’t trying to kiss you.”