Page 60 of Britta & the Beach Boy
“Wait, Britta.” I grab her arm and gently tug her back. “I’m sorry. I’m tired and feel like a tool after last night, but I don’twant that to get in the way of our relationship. Can we just forget about it and go back to being friends?”
Her eyes dart to the papers in her hands, and she bites her lip. “That’s actually what I came to talk about.” She meets my eye, and her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink. “I want to be more than friends. I want to be business partners too.”
I take a second to process what she’s saying, but then she hands me her papers. “Here are my conditions.”
I unfold them and read the words,Britta Thomsen and Liam Dexter Marriage Contract.My eyes bounce from the paper to Britta’s face, then back again.
“What changed your mind?” The words on the paper are a blur, I’m so shocked.
“Long story, but basically, I’ve decided figuring out who I am means staying in LA, and what I want is a coffee shop close to the beach.” She finishes with a clipped,I’m certain,nod.
“Good on ya, Britt.” I return her clipped nod, because I’m certain I want her to stay in LA and take over my favorite coffee shop, too.
Her mouth tugs at the corner before she points to the “contract” I’m holding.
“It’s not legally binding, obviously.” Her voice skitters with nervousness. “But I trust you to give your word until we can have a pre-nup drawn up.”
“A pre-nup?”
She waves her hand, like she’s brushing away a minor inconvenience. “I want the money you give me to be a loan, so whatever legal paperwork we need to do to make sure that happens.”
“I’d rather give—”
Her hand goes up and I stop. “Not negotiating on that one, but I’m willing to work with you on my other conditions… some of them, anyway.”
I scan the numbered list, and because my brain can’t think of any words to say of my own, I read Britta’s out loud.
“Number one: no kissing in private.” I nod. Disappointing, but not surprising. “Number two. No kissing in public, with the exception of kissing-appropriate celebrations.”
I look up. Specifically, at her lips. “Like under the mistletoe or on New Year’s Eve?”
She waves her hand at the list. “We can discuss details later if you agree to these conditions.”
I read the rest of the list to myself. It’s two pages long and covers a lot of ground like, absolutely, positively, no sex. That one she points out specifically and adds, “In private or public. Just to be clear.”
“Public was never on the table. Just to be clear.” I pull in my smile. “I hadn’t considered holidays together, but I appreciate that you’re willing to go to Australia for Thanksgiving.”
“As long as my family gets us at Christmas,” she says firmly.
“You’re aware we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in Australia?”
“Hmm. I guess we’ll have to go to my family then.”
“No Fourth of July celebrations in Aus either.” I raise an eyebrow.
“Paradise has a really great one. I guess we can go there instead.” She doesn’t crack a smile, and I get a sense of who’s going to have the upper hand in this ‘partnership.’
I go back to the list, trying to keep my face as unreadable as hers. Most of her asks are reasonable. Separate bedrooms. Separate bathrooms, with an aside that readsnon-negotiable. I shared a bathroom with three brothers.Handholding only when absolutely necessary.
That one stings. Her hand is soft and fits perfectly in mine.
“You want me to teach you to surf?” I raise my eyes to hers. “I’ll happily do it, but it will mean breaking the ‘no touching’ rule.”
Britta leans in and reads the list over my shoulder, then points to rule number eleven. “Nounnecessarytouching. Touching while teaching is fine.”
A thousand thoughts of what I’d like to teach her run through my mind. None of them appropriate. I bite back a smile as her cheeks grow pink.
“Donotsay what you’re thinking right now.” She grabs the list from me. “I’m serious, Liam. We have to keep this arrangement professional, otherwise it won’t work and one of us will get hurt.”
