Page 16 of The Best You've Ever Had

With that, I carry her to the couch and toss her down. Her small body bounces on the cushions, her auburn hair splaying out around her. Leaning down, I cage her in with my arms, the weight of my body causing us to sink into the couch and each other. With our faces only inches apart, I take in the sight of her—challenging blue eyes, the sprinkling of freckles across her nose, and the cupid’s bow of her full lips. In an instant, the energy in the room shifts from playful to electric. The erection that had gone away only minutes ago, comes back with a vengeance. And she instantly is aware of it, taking a sharp inhale when she feels the weight of it against her abdomen. We both stare at one another, surely contemplating what the hell is up with us and our newfound attraction.

Do we do something about it? Even if we are sworn frenemies?

Her pelvis rocks against my length for a fraction of a second, turning me completely feral. But before I have the chance to ruin thirty years of never even coming close to crossing the line, she pushes off the couch with a huff.

Ignoring what just happened, she straightens out her shirt and crosses her arms. “Fine. Make me food if you want to so badly.”

Reluctantly, I set her phone down on the table nearby and proceed to get out all the ingredients. She stands there, smack dab in the middle of the family room, watching me with a mixture of curiosity and scrutiny on her face. Like she’s ready to cut me down at the knees with insults, but too hungry to attempt any serious damage.

As I measure out flour I ask, “So, want to tell me why you ran to my house at six in the morning?”

Inspecting her nails as if she doesn’t give a damn, she simply replies, “Nope.”

But out of the corner of my eye, I see her bite her full bottom lip. To anyone else, it might seem insignificant, but I’ve known her long enough to understand her tells. Biting her lip is her giveaway, the thing she does when she’s flustered, even if she tries to hide it.

With my attention focused on mixing the batter, I avoid meeting her eyes, attempting to not emotionally spook her. “We both know that’s not true,” I remark. “You’re forgetting I know you better than almost anyone. Tell me.”

“Goddamn you,” she groans. “Fine. First off, this morning I heard…noises. Noises I’d never want to hear again for as long as I live.”

“What kind of noises?”

“Ones of the sexual nature. From my mother’s room.” The look on her face is haunted, but all I can do is laugh since thank fuck it didn’t happen to me.

“And the second reason?”

“I found out my mom is moving in with Paul soon. Can you believe that? They only recently started dating.”

“It’s not recent to them—it’s just new to you. I remember meeting him at my dad’s birthday party last year.”

She bristles. “I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me sooner.”

“Maybe she wanted to make sure it was serious before she introduced you two. Or she was scared of how you would react?”

“Scared? My mother would never be scared of me.”

“You sure about that?” I counter. “Don’t you always say men are good for nothing except for opening jars and sex?”

“Opening jars, sex,andmoving heavy furniture.” She tries not to smile at her own absurdity. “Don’t want you to feel ripped off. Can’t forget that one.”

Scooping a cup of batter, I pour it onto the Belgian waffle maker and close the sizzling appliance. “Case in point, yourmom was probably nervous to tell you. Paul seems like a good guy though, right?”

Kicking off her all-white running shoes, she plops down on a chair at the dining table. “That’s the thing. He’stoogood. There has to be something wrong with him.”

“Elaborate what you mean by ‘too good.’”

“He buys her flowers once a week, for no reason.” Holding up a finger, she begins to count the reasons off. “Washes the dishes and does chores around the house without being asked. Holds doors open, and shows her affection without an ounce of embarrassment. I don’t know. It all feels a little too good to be true.”

“That’s not that crazy. Sounds like what a partnershouldbe doing in a relationship.”

From her seat, she raises one perfectly sculpted brow and gives me a skeptical look. “You’re telling me that you do all that when you’re in a relationship?”

I shrug. “I mean, yeah, I’m a good boyfriend.”

“Huh. Then why are you single?”

“I’ve got a fake girlfriend now, remember?” I wink, watching her groan and sink deeper into the chair, as if the memory of our faux relationship is a weight pulling her underwater.

“Don’t remind me. Another reason why I ran here. We need to figure out how we’re going to keep up this charade.”

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