Page 34 of Crazy Little Thing Called Love

She laughed. “Thank you, Del. Seriously. I know this is creating a lot of problems for you—”

“For both of us,” he interrupted.

Seeing her best friend’s hurt expression in her mind again, she nodded in acknowledgment. “For both of us. But you made me feel better today. Thank you.”

“I’m just trying to be a good fiancé.”

“Fake fiancé,” she reminded him.

He stared, clear blue eyes so pale they looked like the morning sky right at dawn, focused intently on her. He took a step toward her, crowding her personal space, but she didn’t back away. She couldn’t, as if he’d transfixed her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, all her focus zeroed in on Del and what he would do next. Her body tingled with anticipation and she couldn’t even find the desire to be mad at herself.

“Right,” he finally spoke, low and deep, his voice reverberating in her ears. “Fake fiancé. We have to keep up appearances. And speaking of appearances.”

His head dipped down. Cassie didn’t even question the fact that they were standing on the porch of her house, tucked away from the street, with no witnesses in the vicinity. She shut down every thought about this being a bad idea and leaned forward, closing her eyes as she met him halfway. She could blame it on the situation, the booze, the stress of the day, but in truth? She desperately wanted to kiss Del again.

So, she did.

She pressed her lips against his, wrapping her arms around his neck to tug him closer. He didn’t fight it. Del was all too happy to acquiesce to her request. He pressed her back against the door, crushing his body against hers. A moan rose in her throat, and she could do absolutely nothing to stop it.

Holy crap, who knew Charlie’s little brother could kiss like this?

Her body tingled, and a strong ache settled between her thighs. When Del moved against her she swore she almost came right there, fully clothed. The man was a keg of sexual dynamite, and she felt like the fuse, ready to explode at the first strike.

Just as she began to entertain the idea of making her bad week of decisions even worse by inviting Del in, he pulled back.

Their harsh breaths mingled together as he pressed his forehead against hers. She thought she heard him mutter a curse, but she couldn’t be sure. Her ears still rang from the bombshell of a kiss he’d given her.

“Goodnight, Cassandra.” With a squeeze of her hips, he released her and hurried down the steps and into the night.

She stood there, slumped against her front door. She brought a trembling hand up to touch her lips, swollen and still buzzing from her fake fiancé’s kiss.

“Goodnight Del,” she whispered into the empty darkness.

CHAPTER 11

Four days later, Del was busting his ass behind the bar. The warmer weather drove people into the mountains for hiking, river kayaking, and camping. Along the way, tourists stopped in Kismet to enjoy everything the quaint town had to offer, including a stop at the local distillery.

He hadn’t seen Cassie since Monday, but they’d been texting all week about wedding plans and what they were going to do to get this thing moving along. Honestly, he kind of got the impression she’d been avoiding him since the hot as hell kiss they’d shared. Every kiss—granted, they hadn’t had many—had been fire-alarm worthy, but that last one in particular…

He swore he could still feel the soft curves of her body pressed against his, hear her sweet little moans as he devoured her delicious lips. Damn, he needed to stop thinking about it or Kelley would bust his chops for having a hard-on at work. She never missed an opportunity to harp on him.

“Hey there,” a voice said.

He shook his head, shaking off his daydream. At six in the evening, they weren’t super busy, but the rush was coming. He needed to snap out of it and stop thinking of Cassie and how much he’d like to make certain aspects of their relationship real.

Glancing up at the pretty blonde on the other side of the bar, smiling at him, he grinned politely. “What can I get for you tonight, miss?”

Blonde giggled, leaning forward ’til her impressive—and hard to miss in a barely-there top—cleavage practically fell out onto the bar. “I’ll have a vodka and cranberry juice.”

“Coming right up.”

As he made her drink, two more blondes joined her.

“Vodka and cranberry, ladies?” Tending bar for so many years, he’d learned to pick people’s drinks from just a glance. These women were transparent.

“Yes, please,” blonde number two purred, twirling a lock of her bleach-damaged hair around a finger.

“Oh, he’s good,” blonde number three commented. Her gaze roamed over him in an overtly suggestive manner. “Makes a girl wonder what else he’s good at.”

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