Page 21 of That Kind of Guy

I scowled at him.

I hated this. I’d been here for seven seconds, and I hated it. I hated everything about his smug, annoying face. His knowing expression, like he totally expected me to accept his deal and knew I’d come crawling back because I had no other options. I hated relying on someone else, and I especially hated relying on him because I got the sense that he loved it.

But I wanted the restaurant, and I wanted to make things as smooth as possible for Keiko. So, I was doing this.

“Okay,” I reluctantly forced the word out of my mouth.

His eyebrows went up. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

He beamed at me and extended his arms. “Let’s do a practice hug.”

I put aside my rage and focused on plotting Emmett’s slow, painful death. “You can hug me in your mind,” I told him, walking past him into his home.

“We’re going to need to practice affection if we want to sell this,” he called after me, closing the front door.

A few minutes later, we sat in the living room. Giant windows overlooked the forest around the house. Anywhere else, I would have wondered if the room would get too hot in the early evening sun, basically being a greenhouse, but the towering, two-hundred-year-old fir trees kept the place shaded and cool. The decor throughout the house was mid-century modern, all dark woods, clean lines, with the occasional interesting painting or vase, and big leafy plants. Photos of his family popped up once in a while. The whole place had a Mad Men-cool vibe to it and I wondered if he had chosen the decor himself. Probably not. Men like Emmett paid people to do things like this.

“The election is in two months,” Emmett informed me. “You know this town, as soon as they find out that you and I are dating, they’re going to go nuts.”

He was right. Something like this would be all over town.

“When do you need the money? I can have the lawyer draft up a loan contract,” he asked, pulling out his phone.

I shook my head. “I’d rather you cosign on my loan.” After this was all over, I’d rather pay the bank directly instead of him. Paying him would feel like I was on the hook long after this was all over. This deal was already humiliating enough, and I wanted to part ways with him as soon as I could.

He shrugged and put his phone away. “Sure, that’s fine.”

“And I’ll be the sole owner of the restaurant,” I told him.

He snorted. “I have no desire to get into the restaurant business. It’s all yours, Adams.”

I nodded, and the tension in my chest eased a little. I may be selling my soul to the devil, but at least he was agreeing readily to my terms.

“Five public appearances a week,” Emmett said.

I rolled my eyes. “Public appearances? Who are you, a nineteen-year-old popstar?”

“We can call them dates if you prefer.” He winked at me.

“Onepublic appearancesa week.”

“We’ll split the difference. Two a week.” He didn’t wait for me to agree. “How much PDA are you comfortable with?”

In my mind’s eye, I pictured Emmett and I furiously making out on a park bench like teenagers. I was straddling his lap, and his hands were in my hair. I blinked and shook it out of my head.Thatwould not be happening.

“What?” he asked, frowning. “What’s that face?”

“Nothing.” I swallowed. My cheeks warmed. “Light hand holding.”

He laughed. “Lighthand holding? What does that even mean? How is that different from regular hand holding?”

Er, I wasn’t sure. “I just want to avoid your politician’s death grip.”

He grinned at me. “Adams, no one is going to believe that I’m dating a woman who will only allow some ‘light hand holding’ in public.”

I sighed. He was right. “Okay, public affection is fine, just don’t be gratuitous about it, alright?”

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