Page 17 of Duke's Daring Bookworm
“You know this will end in disaster.” Anders didn’t even know Lily. He didn’t know how her mind worked, how when she latched onto an idea, she had to see it through no matter what.
“I would never do anything to hurt her,” I said vehemently.
I didn’t know why I tried to defend myself. It was a terrible fucking idea, and I should go over there now just to tell her as much and back out.
Anders didn’t know that I was likely only hurting myself. Lily would go on with her life as always. I wasn’t going to enlighten him on it, though.
“Duke, you aren’t exactly known for dating women so much as fucking them and then leaving them high and dry.” He pushed off the counter and sat beside me, like he needed to hold my hand through this. “What will you do if, at the end of this, she wants more?”
More. With Lily.
“She’s been very clear that she doesn’t want anything more.”
I stood, threw my towel into the small basket, and grabbed my helmet.
I couldn’t be here anymore.
“Grace likes Lily,” he said, stopping me before I got to the door. “I will take her side if you hurt her.”
“Thank you,” I said as I walked out. I should probably be angry that he wouldn’t be on my side, but I could never be angry at the people in Lily’s corner.
Chapter Seven
Mom!” I called out when Frankie and I walked into my childhood home. “We’re here.” I wandered through the clutter of furniture, knickknacks, and plants to find her in the kitchen singing Paula Abdul and dancing around with flour coating every free surface, her hands, and the once brightly colored flower apron she had owned my whole life. “You can make pasta?”
“Oh, Lily. Frankie.” She dropped the pile of fresh spaghetti into her pot of water and came to hug us.
Without cleaning up first.
I tried not to cringe away from my mom, but I must not have succeeded because she stopped and turned to the sink.
“I just learned from Alfonso. I met him at the farmer’s market. He had the cutest little stand selling homemade sauces. Oh, and that Italian accent,” she said a bit dreamily.
“Where’s dad?”
“Mm, Italians,” Frankie said, as we both took a seat at theisland to help chop veggies for the salad.
“In his office, probably signing us up for cooking classes. You should have seen the look on his face when Alfonso offered to help knead the dough.” She giggled.
“Gross,” Frankie said.
“I don’t understand you two.” I just shook my head and focused on chopping a cucumber.
“I know, sweetie, but hopefully, someday, you will have someone special as well.” She walked around to me, and I tried not to cringe back from the flour still coating her. I nearly fell off my seat trying to avoid it. Thankfully, she didn’t hug me, but grabbed the cutting board with my chopped veggies on it instead.
“I don’t need someone special. I just need good sex.”
Frankie snickered beside me. “And you have a plan for that.”
“Plan? What’s this about a plan? You should be with someone special. I thought you had a hard time finding someone you can trust enough to be close to?” She stirred the pot of sauce, and the tangy and rich smell made my stomach rumble.
“Oh, she has someone special alright.” Frankie spun the tomato she was supposed to cut as she poorly concealed her laughter. I kicked her under the bar.
“I don’t need someone ‘special,’ whatever that even means. I just need someone I can trust. That’s why I’m going to have sex with Duke,” I explained in the most logical and straightforward way I could.
I plucked a few leaves from the fresh basil sitting on the counter under a grow light. The strong, spicy smell relaxed me, and I felt my shoulders drop at the comfort it brought.
A sharp clatter assaulted my ears, and when I looked up from the plant, my mom stared at me like I’d grown asecond head.
