The Dare

by Rachel Van Dyken

"No." I laughed. "I don't want to cause other women to fantasy cheat on their significant others. It would hardly be fair to the other men there to have you shirtless."

  Red stained his cheeks before he quickly pulled a white t-shirt over his muscled chest.

  Since when has linen looked hot on guys?

  Oh right. Since Brad Pitt. Sorry, but you've just been replaced.

  Jace grabbed my hand and kissed it. I tried not to sigh or look as nervous as I felt. Tonight felt more real. Maybe it was because we'd kissed a lot, or maybe it was because he seemed to actually be enjoying spending time with me.

  It felt like a date.

  Then again, anything would feel like a date after the whole sugarcane incident. I gave him another smile and tucked my excitement into the farthest part of my brain.

  "So what restaurant is the mixer at?" Jace asked, "You never told me."

  He gripped my hand as we rounded the corner toward Blu.

  "Habachi Grill."

  Jace put his arm protectively around me as he led me around a couple walking slower than us. And then grabbed my hand again. To him it was effortless.

  But I'd never had a guy do that before. I'd seen it all around me. A guy being protective without realizing it. Or walking on the outside of the road so the girl is protected and safe. But experiencing it? Felt amazing. I felt… treasured. Crap. I needed to remember it wasn't real. He may be attracted to me, he could think I was the best thing since Netflix — but in the end, he wouldn't be waiting like Mr. Darcy.

  "I love Habachi." Jace cleared his throat.

  Okay, was it me or were things awkward? Was I overthinking things?

  "Beth…" Jace stopped walking and turned me to face him, placing his hands on my shoulders. "I have to tell you something."

  "Okay." My throat was seriously starting to close up. He was going to bail. He was going to say he couldn't do it. He was going to abandon me; I was too boring. I knew I should have kept talking. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I be interesting —

  His hot mouth pressed against mine as his hands came around my head, pulling me into his kiss, sucking the panic right out of me.

  "You look…" He shook his head and let out a string of curses. "Let me try this again." He grabbed my hands and looked down at them as our fingers intertwined. "You look absolutely… stunning."

  I couldn't hide my smile.

  Mars could probably see my smile.

  And I couldn't care less.

  "Thank you," I said finding my voice.

  "No." Jace released my hands and tilted my chin so his lips were a breath away from mine. "Thank you."

  "I don't understand?"

  With a wink, he released my chin and grabbed my hand again as we continued walking.

  "I love white."

  "Okay?"

  "And I love wedge heels."

  "Aw, you know what wedge heels are. Well done."

  He grimaced. "Don't tell anyone."

  "I'll take it to my grave."

  "You wore your hair in kinks."

  "Kinks?" I laughed. "You mean in waves?"

  He blushed and licked his lips. "Yeah, that's what I meant."

  "Thought so."

  Jace shook his head and wrapped his arm around me as the door was held open for us in the restaurant. "We have reservations under Brevik."

  "Right this way, Senator." The waitress had dark cropped hair and a piercing in her nose; she looked about twenty years old, and I immediately wanted to trip her for looking at Jace longer than necessary. And how did she know he was a senator? I specifically called him Mr. Brevik not Senator Brevik? Was the guy that famous?

  Doubtful, it was Oregon, not California.

  Jace held out my chair. There were eight seats around the grill. I'd hoped it would be just me and Jace, but mixer made it sound like we had to mix. Which totally reminded me of college orientation where you run around playing silly games, trying to get to know people in your class. I hated mixer games; I always ended up being the awkward one or, worse yet, the boring one with no boxes checked on Get-to-Know-Me-Bingo.

  The restaurant looked really empty. Maybe it wasn't going to be as packed as I'd thought? Hope died the minute I heard a familiar voice.

  "So you guys made it?" Brett slapped Jace on the back and took a seat, leaving Paris to pull out her own chair. Poor soul struggled sitting in it because her spandex dress was so tight her legs wouldn't lift high enough. A nicer person would have helped.

  I smirked.

  Not because I wasn't nice.

  But because she wouldn't take her whoring eyes off of Jace.

  "Uh, yeah." Jace put his arm around me and tugged me close. "We thought a little food was necessary to keep going."

  Would it kill him to be the smooth politician at least once today? I kicked him in the shin.

  "Going?" Brett smirked.

  "Like bunnies," I said without thinking. To be fair, I meant the Energizer Bunny, but that wasn't how it was understood.

  Jace had just lifted a glass of water to his lips and started choking.

  Brett's eyes narrowed as he took us both in.

  "Good evening." A server approached with a cart of tea. "I'll be your server today. Your chef will be here momentarily."

  "Bunnies, huh?" Brett smirked, ignoring the waitress, and his fiancée as well as the fact that the conversation had taken a downward turn into hell. May as well get comfortable, I didn't see things improving for at least a few hours.

  "Yeah." I gripped Jace's arm, digging my nails into his skin; he yelped and put his water down.

  "But enough about our very satisfying sex life… what have you guys been up to all day?"

  "Searching," Brett smirked, "the Internet."

  "Aw, shit."

  I froze, momentarily thinking I was about to hear Donkey. Instead, my blood ran cold when I realized what Brett must have been searching. He knew it was a ruse. He knew we weren't together.

  Rejection sucked.

  I wanted to wallow.

  How was it fair that the one guy who'd rejected me when I was in high school now thought I was a lying prostitute? Forget feeling insecure — now all I felt was shame.

  "How much does she charge?" Brett asked calmly as he placed a napkin on his lap.

  "Excuse me?" I seethed, reaching for a knife to stab him.

  "For your services." Brett grinned smugly. "Not that I'm interested, since I really am happily engaged. Besides, I'm not a fan of disease."

  Paris pulled out a nail file and began filing like the world was about to end if she didn't get rid of her chip and a hangnail.

  I sighed. "Your definition of happy and mine are two very different things."

  "You couldn't afford her," Jace snarled.

  Okay, so not the rescue I was hoping for, but it worked.

  "I've got money." Brett rolled his eyes. "And I wouldn't want her anyway."

  "That's it." Jace stood and grabbed Brett by the collar. "Beth, we'll be right back. Brett and I are going to go have a little heart to heart and grab a few drinks, okay?"

  "Sure." My hands trembled as they reached for the water glass.

  "Welcome to Blu Hibachi!" A female voice all but shouted.

  I looked up in horror.

  There stood Grandma, giant-ass knife in hand, a black pantsuit, and a leopard scarf tied around her head.

  "Should you…" I pointed, "have knives?" Or anything that could cause physical harm to herself or anyone standing within a foot of her?

  "Of course." She threw the knife into the air. I almost passed out until she caught it with her other hand and winked. "I studied for years to learn the art of the Hibachi." She said Hibachi with way more emphasis on chi than I think the Japanese would say was appropriate. "Where's Jace?"

  "Having a conversation." I sighed.

  "With his fist," Paris interjected.

  Oh wow, so airhead could speak. Nice.

  "Fist?" Grandma began stacking vegetables and types of meats on the h
ot grill. The minute she threw oil on the heat, I was hit with a cloud of heat that should have singed eyebrows. "He's fighting someone?"

  "Her fiancé." I pointed at Paris. "An old… friend."

  "Please." Paris snorted. "He said you were like the nerdiest girl at his school, doubt that makes you friends."

  I wasn't sure if I wanted to grab Grandma's knife and stab it into myself or just Paris.

  She giggled.

  Just kidding.

  Paris. I wanted to stab Paris.

  "You let Grandma handle these things." Grandma threw another knife into the air. "After all, this is your vacation, Beth, and you only have few days left."

  "Of vacation." I finished.

  "NO, you only have five days to make him realize what he's worked his entire life for is standing right in front of him. A Grandma knows these things."

  "Grandma." I fought to keep the tears from rolling down my face. "I'm not that person. I'm not his penguin or lobster or whatever you want to call it. He's an island I'm lucky enough to be stranded on for the next few days, that's all."

  "I sure hope not," Jace said from behind me. "I was hoping I was more than a damn island."

  "What do you want to be?" I tried to sound like I was joking.

  He gripped my face hard in his hands and kissed my mouth. "The world. I'd rather be the world."

  Grandma cleared her throat.

  Paris rolled her eyes and continued filing her nails at the freaking table. Seriously. Here's to hoping a piece of nail lands in her food and not mine because heads would roll if I crunched down on something that wasn't a carrot.

  Besides, Jace had just said he wanted to be my world. I just about died as his words sank into my consciousness, healing cuts I never knew existed. "Where's Brett?"

  "Oh, Brett." Jace grimaced. "He got sick."

  Paris grabbed her purse. "Guess that's my exit then, huh?"

  "Oh, he'll be back. I told him it would be wonderful to enjoy some dinner with him this fine evening."

  My eyes narrowed.

  Paris shrugged. "Fine, I'm going to use the restroom. If he gets back before I do, tell him I want something with shrimp."

  Her heels clicked against the floor as she sauntered away, her ass nearly falling out of her dress.

  I let out a breath of relief.

  "Oops!" Grandma dropped some shrimp onto the floor. She picked it up and placed it back on the grill. Then she grabbed something out of her pocket and put a few drops in the sauce for the shrimp.

  I smacked Jace, "Do something! She's drugging—"

  I paused.

  "You were saying?" Jace laughed. "Let her eat bad shrimp. See if I care. Technically, I can't kill the guy, but that doesn't mean I want to sit here and eat with them. The sooner Grandma gets rid of them the sooner we can romance."

  "Romance? You're using it as a verb?"

  He grinned, "It's an action."

  "So now I get action."

  "Oh sweetheart, you have no idea."

  My face fell. "He thinks I'm a prostitute, doesn't he?"

  "No. He thinks what I tell him to think."

  My head snapped up. "What did you do? Brain wash him?"

  "Baby," Jace whispered in my ear, "sometimes being a politician has its uses. Brett's a weak man. My ploy had nothing to do with punching him in the face or lying to him. But everything to do with what I could get him. He thinks we're dating, and the story is a cover-up because of another scandal in my past."

  "What did you have to do? To convince him."

  "I paid him fifty grand."

  My mouth dropped open.

  "Geez, I'm kidding..." Jace chuckled, warm against my ear. "I told him I loved you."

  My world plummeted. Had he no idea? That those three words had just shattered my entire existence? Because I wanted it to be real. And he just reminded me yet again that it wasn't.

  "Hungry?" Grandma flipped a few pieces of clean shrimp onto our plates. "Eat up!"

  Chapter Nineteen

  "Are you really a chef and licensed therapist?" The agent asked.

  "Yes." Grandma nodded enthusiastically. "I'm also a pilot."

  "Licensed pilot?"

  "Why do you keep saying license? Do I not look intelligent enough to have several talents and hobbies?"

  "Why did you feel the need to get all of these… .certifications?"

  "Because I know my grandsons. At one point, I figured I'd have to learn how to fight in the MMA arena, but thank heavens that didn't happen." Grandma shifted in her seat. "Besides, a good leader always knows one thing."

  "What's that?"

  "If you want something done, you sure as hell better do it yourself."

  Jace

  "If you as much as sneeze in her direction, I will stop at nothing to destroy your pitiful existence from the ground up."

  The thing I should have said instead of…

  "I love her."

  Brett laughed. "Right. You do realize that half the world thinks you're on vacation with a new girlfriend, and the other half's convinced you're with a prostitute."

  "Well, clearly, since I love her. She isn't a prostitute. Money doesn't need to exchange hands when you're in a relationship. Not that you would know that." I sneered.

  "I'll expose you," Brett threatened. "After all, what type of concerned citizen would I be if I let a state senator get away with illegal prostitution?"

  "Expose away. I have no secrets." I seethed feeling my control snapping, "But leave her out of this. Don't you think you've hurt her enough in the past?"

  Brett's face pinched. "She told you about high school? That's kind of pathetic if you ask me. I mean, she's what, thirty? And she's upset about something that happened twelve years ago?"

  "You're a bastard." I snapped "And by the way, It was me."

  "You?"

  "At the dance." I puffed out my chest. "Kissing her. It was me, so take your damn accusations and stuff them up your ass before I do it for you. We've been friends for an eternity, and I. love. Her. I. Choose. Her. Mind your own business before I pay a friend of a friend to cut the brakes to your car."

  "Are you threatening me?"

  "Of course not. We're just joking around. You, of course, are a little drunk after all those shots…" I reached for the drink on the bar and threw it in his face. "…and a little unsteady on your feet after getting in a crazy bar fight." I punched him across the jaw and then grabbed at his shirt again, steadying his body so I could punch him again. "Am I right?"

  His face turned a hundred different shades of red before he pushed against my chest.

  I took a step back and smirked. "Now, you're going to either apologize or wish you had."

  "I'll go ahead and take my chances." Brett cracked his knuckles and took a huge swing in my direction.

  I ducked and then punched him in the face.

  Hard.

  "Bastard!" Brett almost fell over. "You don't even love her! You're just dating. Something doesn't add up here."

  "It's serious, and I do..." my voice cracked on the lie, "I do love her."

  The minute the words left my lips I felt like I'd betrayed something special between us. As if I'd somehow cheated her out of having that experience because I'd said too soon. But it wasn't as if I would ever say it to her anyway, right?

  I took another sip of whiskey and grimaced as the dry liquid burned down my throat. I shouldn't have told Beth that part. I should have kept it locked up inside.

  Instead, she looked like I'd just told her I wanted to set fire to Donkey and eat a puppy for dinner.

  "Eat, eat!" Grandma instructed loud enough to wake up the dead.

  I was surprised I hadn't broken my hand — I'd never hit a guy so hard in my entire life.

  "Shrimp?" Grandma asked as Brett took a seat on the opposite side of the table a good few feet away from me.

  "Sure." His eyes darted from the plate to the empty seat next to him, "Where's Paris?"

  "Bathroom," I said.


  While Beth said, "Puking," under her breath.

  "Great."

  Grandma threw a knife into the air and then chopped some mushrooms in front of us and spread them out like a fan. For being eighty-six, she had quick hands.

  I hadn't asked why she was our chef for the same reason I hadn't asked why she was our therapist. She was insane. Therefore, her cooking us dinner? Yeah, it made total sense.

  I half-expected her to be our guide today for the excursion and wouldn't have even blinked if she walked into our room and claimed to be the maid. Hell, if she claimed to be president of her own country, I'd just pour myself a glass of scotch and ask which one.

  Brett ate a few pieces of shrimp, alternating between licking his fingers and using his tongue to mate with them.

  "Is he eating it or seducing it?" Beth whispered next to me.

  Ten minutes later, Brett closed his eyes and moaned as he then gripped the table with his hand.

  "Orgasm via shrimp?" I concluded. "I may never eat again."

  What I thought was Brett becoming aroused by shellfish was actually Brett moaning in pain. He teetered off his chair and with a thump fell to the floor.

  "Holy shit, Grandma killed him." I mumbled under my breath, pushing my chair away from the table so I could go help him, or maybe just kick him while he was down. Jury was still out.

  "I, uh…" Brett burped and reached for his water, "I don't feel so well."

  "Are you allergic to shellfish?" Grandma asked, concern lacing her every word.

  "No." he pounded his chest and burped again.

  "Oh, heavens!" Grandma dropped the knife onto the table and rushed to his side. "I think you are! I think you're going into shock! Hurry! We need to get you to the hospital."

  "Seriously?" He gripped the table again. "I do feel kind of hoarse."

  Grandma nodded emphatically. "I'll get the manager. We'll have you in the hospital in no time!"

  Amused, I watched Grandma lie her ass off as she escorted Brett to the waiting taxi. Paris came out of the bathroom in time to see the fiasco. She'd also failed to look in the mirror. White powder glowed next to her upper lip.

  "Not puking, snorting. Classy woman." I took a long sip of my whiskey and watched as the night went to hell in a hand basket.