Page 47 of Perfect Score

“The bathroom is all yours,” I tell him, stepping out and giving him access to it.

He takes one step toward the bathroom as I move around him.

He reaches out, his fingertips reaching out and pressing gently against my stomach to stop my progress from moving out of his way. Tingles break out from his touch. I remember very vividly the way it feels to have his fingers all over me.

It’s crazy that less than twenty-four hours ago, I hated this man but now his touch makes my body perk up and take notice.

“Hey… we're okay after last night, right?”

His eyes lock on me, flicking between them as if he’s trying to read something I might not say.

“Yeah, we're fine. And thank you for that. I needed it." I admit, feeling a little blush forming

He pulls his hand off my belly and then rubs the back of his neck to my question.

“You never have to thank me for that. I'll happily take care of you anytime you want this weekend. Just one of the many perks of me being your fake boyfriend. You don't have to fake everything."

Oh my God, did he honestly just say that?

"How do you know I didn't fake it last night?" I ask, challenging him.

“Pussies don't pulsate when they fake it,” he says, and then turns to the bathroom and steps in, and smirks at me as he closes the door.

Is he flirting with me now?

Great. As if things couldn't get more complicated, they just did.

Chapter Thirteen

Zoey

Fifteen minutes later Brent and I are packed in the SUV and headed to the retirement facility for Gran’s birthday party.

It’s about a thirty-minute drive from the hotel of which Brent keeps the conversation mostly on my photography business and I ask him about how Tessa is doing and her wedding plans.

Although she’s younger than me, she and I are friends on social media, and I commented on her engagement announcement. She's killing it in Seattle while working for the Hawkeyes and it's fun to see how far she's come.

She posts a lot of pictures and every time she'd post a photo of Brent, I'd catch myself lingering a little longer than I should have at his familiar eyes, or his familiar smile that lights up when Tessa or his Gran is around.

But then I'd notice I was staring too long, envy and maybe even longing would rise up, wondering why Brent never wanted to give me that version of him, and then I'd close down social media before I let those emotions float up to the surface.

Finally, Brent takes a left and we head down a long driveway that looks like the entrance to a PGA golf course, not a retirement facility. I’m relieved to almost be there since the small talk was killing me. Awkward doesn’t begin to describe our ability to converse with one another.

The huge stone arch with St. Claire’s Living Estates on it tells me that this is, in fact, his grandmother’s retirement community.

We’re here.

Thank God because the unspoken tension of what happened between us last night feels like it's on the tip of both of our tongues and I'm not ready to discuss it.

As we continue, I see a large Japanese garden to my left and then further up, a stunning multi-acre rose garden to my right.

Beautiful condos start to appear around the outskirts, where I assume most of the residents must live in condominiums rather than apartments. It’s obvious this place would be expensive to live in.

This isn’t your run-of-the-mill retirement home.

“This place is beautiful,” I tell him as I take in the stunning three-story building ahead of us.

The entire place is covered in Christmas lights. Even the palm trees are wrapped in them.

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