The Bookworm's Guide to Faking It (The Bookworm's Guide, #2)

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The Bookworm's Guide to Faking It (The Bookworm's Guide, #2) Page 7

by Emma Hart

This was not happening.

  I’d say I couldn’t believe it, but I could. I had no car and now, no room. What was next? Everything happened in threes, didn’t it?

  “Okay, do you have a room for me?” I asked, pulling off my hat.

  Regret flashed across her features. “The entire resort is booked this weekend.”

  “I know that,” Sebastian said. “I’m the one who booked it.”

  Wow.

  “No, sir, there are no rooms available,” Dawn explained. “Every room has been booked out for…” She leaned in closer to the screen. “Three weeks now.”

  Seb pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can you look into this and make sure I’m not being charged for a room I don’t have? In this case, I should only be paying for my room and the bridal suite.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll make sure it’s sorted for you. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” Dawn smiled awkwardly.

  She could smile all she liked. I was the one who’d driven up here, fucked my tire, and now had no room.

  Seb pulled me away from the desk. “Look, it’s fine. I’m in a suite. You can sleep in the bedroom, and I’ll take the sofa.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not sharing a room with you.” I folded my arms. “This wasn’t the deal.”

  “I know, and believe me, I’m going to complain,” he said, resting his hands on my upper arms. “But if there are no rooms, there are no rooms. We need to get your car sorted, so let’s grab your stuff and take it up to my room.”

  This weekend was just going from bad to worse, wasn’t it?

  ***

  “Greg is coming to get your car in an hour,” Seb said, standing in the doorway of the living room with the room’s phone in his hand. “He’ll take it back into town, sort it out, and I’ll take you to pick it up on Sunday.”

  I stared up at him from where I was sitting on the sofa with my arms still folded across my chest and one leg over the other. I was not amused by this turn of events, and I said as much.

  “No, your face wasn’t clear.” He fought a smile. “There’s nothing you can do. You have the bed, and I’ll sleep in here. It’s not a big deal.”

  “You can’t sleep on the sofa.”

  “Of course I can. It’s my fault you’re here in the first place, and I’m not going to make you sleep on it.”

  “I was thinking you could just take me home and then it wouldn’t be an issue at all.”

  He shook his head. “The rehearsal dinner is in a few hours. If I show up without you, my mother will never let me hear the end of it.”

  Now there was a reason not to go.

  May Stone was a force to be reckoned with, and I had no doubt she was the driving one behind this entire weekend.

  “She’s the reason you tricked me into this, isn’t she?”

  “Of course,” he replied. “Could you imagine her face if I showed up without a date? Being the Bears pitcher isn’t enough—she seems to think I can find my future wife while I’m out injured.”

  “Don’t look at me.”

  “You wound me, Holley.” He clutched his chest dramatically and put the phone back on the holder.

  “Mm. I’m considering it,” I muttered.

  “You want me to go get your stuff from your car?”

  “I’m not going back out there. It’s freezing.”

  “So I can’t tempt you into skiing, then?”

  I wrinkled my face up. “When have you ever seen me ski?”

  “Once. You were twelve. It still gives me nightmares.”

  “There you go, then. Not going to happen.” I grabbed the remote control and turned on the TV. “My purse is on the front seat and my case is in the trunk. Keys are in my coat pocket.”

  He shrugged his coat on and felt about in my pockets for the keys. Upon finding them, he tossed them a few inches into the air and caught them again, then nodded toward the coffee table. “Since you were stuck out there for hours, feel free to order food. It’ll charge to the room, and dinner isn’t being served until eight.”

  Eight? I was going to be skin and bones by then.

  Well, not likely. But I was in a dramatic mood today, so…

  “Do you want anything?” I offered.

  “Get whatever,” he replied. “I’m not fussy.”

  He left on that flippant comment, so I shrugged and grabbed the menu. It was vast, and most of the meals were fancy. I didn’t want fancy.

  I wanted soup and grilled cheese.

  I was still cold.

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever be warm again.

  All right, now I was even annoying myself with the dramatics.

  I kept flicking through the menu and eventually found the section titled ‘Comfort Food’ where I located my soup and grilled cheese. Since I really didn’t know what to get for Seb, I decided to order him the same.

  Once upon a time, it’d been his favorite thing.

  It was still mine.

  I got up to grab the phone and called the order in. I also got a glass of wine and a hot cocoa because I was cold and stressed and it seemed like a good idea.

  Chocolate, wine, and cheese.

  In what world wasn’t that a good idea?

  Not a world I wanted to live on, that was for sure.

  I picked up my phone and connected to the WiFi, immediately opening my reading app the moment it was done. My book downloaded and synced to the last read spot, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I lay back on the sofa and carried on reading.

  I just had to know if Rachel was finally going to give in to Donovan and just kiss him already.

  The door to the room opened, making me jump, and I looked up over my phone. Seb pulled my case through with a little grunt and put my purse down.

  “What did you pack in here? Your closet?”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t know what to wear, so I brought a few options.”

  “Mm.” He shut the door behind him and wheeled the case into the bedroom. He came back in a second later, glanced at me, and pulled off his coat. “By the way, I have some news.”

  “It better be good,” I replied, staring over the top of my phone.

  He grimaced. “My grandfather thinks we’re dating.”

  CHAPTER NINE – HOLLEY

  rule nine: contrary to popular belief, overthinking isn’t always a bad thing.

  You know how you blink when you feel like you have something in your eye, but you’re not quite sure? That really quick, intense blinking that makes you feel a bit dizzy? That may or may not clear out anything in there?

  Yeah, that.

  I did that.

  A lot.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I hauled myself up into a sitting position and threw my phone on the cushion next to me.

  “My grandfather thinks we’re dating.”

  “Oh no, I wasn’t saying that because I didn’t hear you. I was saying it because you need to explain. Right now.”

  He scratched the back of his neck.

  “Sebastian,” I said, a warning in my tone.

  “Well, you see, it’s like this.” He paused. “I don’t know what it’s like.”

  “You tell me what happened right now!” I grabbed a throw pillow and, getting up so I had one foot on the floor and my knee resting on the sofa, I threw it at him as hard as I could.

  Seb caught it like it was nothing, raised one eyebrow at me, and tossed it back onto the sofa.

  It wasn’t the most effective weapon in the world.

  “Listen, listen,” he said, holding his hands up as he slowly approached me. “It’s my mom’s fault.”

  I glared at him.

  “My dad went to get my grandpa from the home, and they pulled up when I was getting your case. Grandpa asked me what I was doing with a pink suitcase—” He shot a look at my case. “—And when I said it was yours, he asked me why you were here. Mom came out right then, and Grandpa asked if we were dating, and she said yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell them we aren’t?”
r />   “I tried.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “Mom clipped me round the back of the head and told me not to ruin his fantasy.”

  I dropped back into the corner of the sofa. “This is going from bad to worse,” I groaned, rubbing my temples. “You have to fix this!”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Grow a pair and tell him the truth!”

  “I know it’s not an ideal situation, but—”

  “There is no but!” I sat back up again and pointed at him. “Do you know what’s going to happen, Sebastian? He’s going to think we’re dating, go back to the retirement home, and tell my grandmother we’re dating.”

  He paused.

  “Do you know how much I don’t need that in my life? Jesus Christ, she already thinks my sister and Kai were married before she got pregnant,” I said. “They’re weren’t! They eloped! She has no idea!”

  Sebastian blinked at me. “I thought they were married.”

  I stared at him. “They are. Just not for as long as she thought she was. She’s already dealt with one fake relationship. If you think I’m going to fuck around with another, you can think again. And I am definitely not concocting some magical story about how we made up and I forgave you and we went from high school best friends to adult lovers!” My voice was a few octaves too high and the pitch was most definitely too high.

  I was borderline hysterical.

  I could feel it.

  “I did not sign up for this!”

  “Okay, breathe.” He took a few steps toward me and paused, obviously thinking better of it. “Breathe. Seriously.”

  “Don’t you tell me to breathe, Sebastian Stone!” I threw another throw pillow at him. “I don’t want to be here!” And another. “I’m only here because you tricked me into it!” And another. “And guilted me into it!” And another. “I am not pretending to be your bit on the side!” And another.

  He deftly avoided all my fluffy missiles with not a lot of effort on his part and looked down at them scattered across the floor, bemused.

  I threw one last one in his direction and hit him square on the side of the head. “I won’t do it!”

  “All right,” he said, snatching the last cushion up and throwing it back at me.

  I did not have his ability to dodge it and it hit me.

  If I were a dog, I’d have growled.

  I might have. I wasn’t sure. There was a pissed off rumble somewhere in my chest, but it might have also been my stomach, so…

  “First,” he said, fixing those annoyingly perfect blue eyes on me. “If you’re delusional enough to think that you’d ever be just a bit on the side, then you’re not as smart as I remember.”

  “Did you just call me stupid?”

  “No. I implied you might be.” He didn’t bat an eyelid. “Do you think you’d ever be a bit on the side for me?”

  “I’ll be a bit on the side all right,” I said, gritting my teeth. “The side of the grave I’ve buried your dead ass in.”

  His lips tugged to one side. “Holley, if you and I were ever more than friends, you’d be my wife.”

  Say what now?

  I blinked heavily at him. What the—what was that? What was he saying that for?

  Why was he so full of shit?

  “You’re starting to piss me off.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “Starting? Gee, and here I was thinking you were in a good mood,” he drawled.

  “You’re full of shit.”

  “Why? Because I told you something you don’t want to hear?” He walked over to me, and the close proximity of him leaning over me made me sink back into the cushions. He gripped the back of the sofa and dropped his head so that his black curls fell over his forehead and ears, almost framing his gorgeous face.

  His hair was such a stark contrast to the perfect lines of his face—messy, unruly curls that had a mind of their own, that begged to be teased with a girl’s fingers, compared to sharp, almost sculptured lines of his cheekbones and jaw.

  Sebastian Stone was the thing wet dreams were made of.

  And my body knew it.

  “Go away,” I said, craning my neck back and looking at him. My voice wasn’t quite as firm as I wanted it to be.

  He smiled slowly, an unnecessary sexiness creeping into the movement.

  One that bugged me.

  Because it affected me.

  Because while my left hand wanted to slap the smile off his face, my right hand wanted to grab him and do… something else.

  Like pull his lips to mine.

  He dipped his head a little bit closer. “Holley, I don’t say anything unless I mean it. That’s never changed. So when I tell you that you’d never be a bit on the side, that’s what I mean.”

  “Wife is a little far, don’t you think?”

  His gaze held mine in a manner so arresting that I never thought I’d be able to look away. “Do you?”

  I drew in a deep breath. I had no idea what he was saying, but I did know that this was completely ridiculous. This conversation was weird and confusing and had no place right here, right now, but I had no answer to him.

  Me.

  I had no answer.

  I swallowed, quickly darting my tongue out to wet my lips, then dragged my lower lip through my teeth in a nervous motion that pulled off a bit of dry skin.

  My response danced on my tongue. It was a resounding yes, that it was completely ridiculous, but a loud knock at the door interrupted me.

  Seb waited for a moment, but when I didn’t answer, he stood with that stupid ass smirk on his face. He turned to the door, leaving me to scramble up to sitting straight when he opened it to reveal room service.

  The young woman kept her head down as she wheeled the cart into the room and placed it where Seb asked. She handed him a black, leather wallet that he opened and scanned before signing it with the proffered pen and returning it.

  She left as quickly and quietly as she came, clicking the door behind her like it was the door to Fort Knox.

  Seb approached the trolley and picked up the cloche on the plate furthest to the right. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup. I assume this is yours.”

  I said nothing.

  He replaced that cloche and moved to the other. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup,” he said with a resigned sigh. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you to get me whatever.”

  “What’s wrong with grilled cheese and tomato soup?” I asked, hauling my butt off the sofa and over to the food. “It’s the ultimate comfort food. It’s hot, there are carbs, and there’s cheese. It’s the perfect trifecta of food groups.”

  “Hot isn’t a food group. Neither is cheese, really.”

  “And I’m not your girlfriend, but your grandpa thinks I am. I think you can suspend some belief about hot soup being a food group.” I took the tray that held mine and carried it over to the sofa. “Which it is,” I added pointedly.

  He shot me a look, but he didn’t argue the point further. He picked up his own tray and joined me on the sofa, actually scooting my tray along the coffee table until there was more than enough room for his.

  That wasn’t annoying at all.

  I skirted along by a few inches until there was a good space between us and pulled the cloche off my food. It was almost too hot to handle, but I set it on the floor next to me so I could finally eat.

  It’d been one long ass day, and I wasn’t sure it was going to stop anytime soon.

  ***

  ME: We have a problem.

  I lay down on my stomach on the bed, careful not to yank the charge cable from my phone, and waited for someone to respond.

  KINSLEY: Whatever it is, we didn’t do it.

  ME: That makes a change.

  SAYLOR: I resent that.

  ME: Stop it. I have a real problem here.

  SAYLOR: Sorry. What did you do? You didn’t sleep with him, did you?

  ME: I knew texting you was a bad idea.

  KINSLEY: Yet we never learn. What�
��s wrong?

  ME: Sebastian’s grandfather thinks we’re dating.

  SAYLOR: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HOW DID THAT HAPPEN

  She was such a damn jerk.

  ME: Saylor.

  KINSLEY: Saylor.

  SAYLOR: I’m sorry. How did that happen?

  Again. Such a jerk.

  ME: My tire blew out on the way up here so he came to rescue me. We called a tow so it can be replaced, and he ran down to get my stuff before the truck showed up. His gpa was just arriving and his mom said we were dating.

  KINSLEY: How does that even happen?

  ME: I don’t know, but I hate my life. This was a terrible decision.

  SAYLOR: Can you at least get laid out of it?

  ME: SAYLOR

  KINSLEY: SAYLOR

  SAYLOR: STOP YELLING AT ME

  KINSLEY: Then stop being a dick. We need to be helpful.

  SAYLOR: Yeah, I’m not good at that.

  No shit.

  ME: What am I supposed to do? His gpa lives at the home, and if Grandma finds out, I’m never going to live it down.

  KINSLEY: Ouch. Yeah. Can’t you just tell the truth?

  ME: His mom is super stressed and I think she just wants to pretend for the weekend, but I don’t want to

  SAYLOR: So… don’t

  SAYLOR: Honestly you’re so smart but sometimes you’re really dumb

  I had to find a way to replace her as my friend.

  ME: Thanks.

  KINSLEY: Say, don’t make me yell at you again.

  SAYLOR: Why bother? It obviously doesn’t work. I’m still an asshole.

  ME: Never has a truer word ever been spoken.

  ME: But seriously, what do I do?

  KINSLEY: You might have to just pretend. His grandpa might not even know Rosie. You might get away with it.

 

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