Page 15 of Contingently Yours
Andrew’s barstool is scooted so close beside mine, he’s practically enveloped me with his open thighs from the way he’s sitting on his. I stepped away from him and shrugged off each of his touches as soon as the Hepperlys weren’t looking while we walked around the resort today. I thought he’d have gotten the hint, but apparently not. His arm slinks over my shoulder from behind, effectively putting me on display now that I’m between him and the Hepperlys. I know he’s doing it just to annoy me. We don’t need to touch each other to sell properties.
Steadying my breath, I try to ignore the sensation of his heavy arm over my shoulder and the way he’s fingering the pocket on my shirt. I haven’t been touched in forever, but it’s not the touching that bothers me. It’s the toucher who’s making it feel…weird. I think sitting still while your archnemesis pets you might actually be more difficult than any of my army training.
“So, you two met at work?” Mason asks, sitting back in a chair at one of the round tables next to the bar that he and his husbands claimed. The caretaker brings over a tray of drinks and deposits them on their table, giving me a moment to prepare myself for our lie.
“Yeah,” I concur, trying to smile. I feel dirty already, dirtier than when Andrew’s filthy hands are on me.
“Sooo…tell us all the details,” Mason croons. “Was it an office flirtation? A secret rendezvous? How did it happen?”
Andrew laughs. Too loudly. Right in my fucking ear. There is no way my smile looks genuine right now.
“He followed me around with those big puppy dog eyes of his for weeks before he finally got the nerve to ask me out.”
My stomach roils and my face burns as the Hepperlys coo and chuckle. “I did not,” I grit.
“Oh! I always love this part,” Keenan laughs. “Two sides to every story. I can relate, Lucas. Go on. Tell us what really happened.”
Fuck. How did I go from not wanting to lie to them to being neck deep in it with all eyes on me? My mind churns over every past interaction I’ve had with the jackass who’s now got my shoulder in a death grip, like he’s silently threatening me to make him look good. A man can only be so dishonest. Andrew is not good.
Picking up the beer the caretaker set on the bar for me, I mutter as I bring it to my lips. “He stalked me like a menace until I gave in.”
Dario cracks up and shoots a look at Mason. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
As the Hepperlys laugh, I feel heat at the back of my ear. The death grip on my shoulder tightens. “What the fuck?” Andrew hisses.
As soon as I’m sure our clients aren’t looking, I smack his hand off my shoulder. He lets out a gasp like it hurt. The baby. I sit up straighter, pretending to adjust my shirt, but it’s just an excuse to put more space between us. I don’t want the first time I’ve been touched in four years to be by someone I can’t stand. It’s a deception my body doesn’t need.
I try to listen to Mason defend his reasons for repeatedly booking Dario’s survivalist package and coincidentally ending up at the same off-the-beaten-path pub Dario was at, but I can feel the hostility behind me like an invisible barrage of daggers. Good. I hope Andrew enjoyed getting a taste of his own medicine.
“Lucas,” Dario calls, raising his glass with a smile, “you have my sympathies, mate.”
“Thank you.” I nod, raising my glass in return, enjoying the ounce of vindication it brings me.
I can feel Andrew bound off his stool. His hand clamps down on my shoulder again, making me tense. “Fellas, can you give us a minute to go over some of the arrangements for tomorrow? We’ll be right back. The staff’s getting some lunch prepped for you now, though, so hang tight.”
“Sure. Bit a grub sounds good by me,” Dario assures us.
“Take your time,” Keenan adds, looking over the property plans with Mason like their digs to each other are already forgotten.
I give Andrew a side eye and am met with a sour expression. His stupid, wavy, sandy hair is starting to curl more in the humidity, making him look deranged. If he thinks he’s supposed to be intimidating, he needs to work on it. Gripping the back of my neck, he practically steers me to the patio door. He’s got another thing coming if he expects me to ask how high each time he says jump. I hope my sisters have at least an inkling of how much I love them and cherish their happiness. I cannot wait to break up with this asshole.
CHAPTER 5
Andrew
Is hetryingto blow this? God, what was I thinking? There is no reasoning with a six-foot-one slab of backwoods meat with the social skills of a porcupine. I am giving this my all, and he’s trying to ruin it at every turn.
I pat him on the shoulder, and he shrugs it off. I lean in, and he shifts in the other direction. Does he think that was easy for me? The man is a walking, talking repellent. Still, I even tried to hold his hand earlier when we were showing the Hepperlys the convention room, but he jerked his away. I swear Keenan noticed and gave us a peculiar look. Even now, when all I want to do is throttle him, I’ve got my hand on the back of his neck like we’re life mates.
Speaking of which, why is he so fucking sweaty? Yuck!
Shoving him away from me as soon as we’re outside and out of view of the Hepperlys, I wipe my palm on my shorts. Mental note to burn them later.
Folding my arms, I face off with the brute. Glaring at me, his lower lip pouts, causing his cheeks to puff out. It makes him look like a depressed chipmunk. Dario’s sympathy should be forme. If I were really gay, I could do so much better.
“Are you trying to blow this for us?”
“What?” he huffs, adjusting his shirt collar like I roughed him up. If only.
