Page 31 of My Grumpy Sweetheart
Fuck. No.
I needed to stop thinking like that.
* * *
I was kinda having déjà vu.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I barked at Bailey, who looked up at me with his bright blue eyes, one shoe already in his hand, his sock-clad toes wiggling happily.
“Same thing as last time: I’m taking my shoes off.” He laughed, then proceeded to do just that, pulling the second, heavy boot from his foot, wiggling his toes like he’d just freed them from a sad existence in a tight prison.
“You could just buy your shoes a size bigger if they’re hurting you.” No, he definitely should buy bigger shoes if they hurt his feet so much. It still wasn’t a reason to take his shoes off during a car drive. Who did that? Especially since this was a rental. He had no idea where this car had been. How many people had put their sweaty feet… on the seat. Just like him. “You’ll give yourself foot fungus,” I grumbled.
Bailey just placed a hand on my arm and smiled at me, his eyes gentle. “Thank you for your concern. It means a lot that you’re already worried about me. But you really don’t need to be. First of all, my shoes are the right size, I just like being comfortable, and no shoes are always more comfortable. And I won’t get fungus or whatever. I promise. And if I do, I’m happy to let you tell meI told you so. Deal? I’m sure you’d love to do that.”
What I’d love to do was strangle him.
Preferably with one of the Twizzlers he was pulling out of his backpack right now. Followed by Nerds. And chocolate. And cookies, and…
“Where the fuck did you get dried apples?” We already had a trunk full of apples. And pie. Why did he need more?
“Didn’t you see the gift basket?” Bailey asked, offering me a chocolate covered dried apple, but I shook my head. I wasn’t hungry yet. “They had a whole assortment of things. I’m a little bummed they didn’t offer any chocolate-covered-apples-making-classes. But they did sell them in the little booth out front. I bought a couple of bags, and even got them to tell me how to make them.”
I blinked at him in disbelief.
“When?”
“Oh… I had a few moments here and there.” Bailey shrugged, taking a bite of apple, humming happily. “Apparently, I need a dehydrator, but I already bought one online, so I’ll just have to figure out how to use it. The chocolate dipping part should be easy. Oh, hey, maybe we could do that as kind of a second date?”
Asecond date.
My thoughts came to a screeching halt. Swallowing, I dared to look at Bailey for a second before focusing back on the street ahead of me. Two days ago, I had refused to even call this farce of a weekend a date. And now?
Yeah, there was no way of denying that it, in fact, had been a date. And as much as I hated to admit it, I’d had fun. I didn’t care about the orchard or the pie making class or anything, but I’d had fun with Bailey. He was…light.
The word confused the ever loving shit out of me, but it was the first thing that came into my mind when I thought about the little minx sitting next to me, happily munching on a whole bag of apple-treats after having spent the whole weekend eating and drinking everything apple.
His appearance, his smile, his hair, his eyes, his laugh, the way he walked, his giggling… everything was light. And I enjoyed that. It grated on my nerves, but at the same time, it warmed my heart.
And the sex?
He’d called it the best sex of his life — and I had to wholeheartedly agree. It was off the charts.
Fuck.
An image of Bailey’s lip stretched around my cock, his eyes watering, my hands tugging at his hair came alive inside my head, and my dick made a valiant effort to harden once again.
Off the charts.
But…
“Not that you need to go on a second date with me if you don’t want to,” Bailey quickly said, waving his hand like it wasn’t a big deal. He was even still smiling, but… the sparkle in his eyes was gone, and his lips trembled a little. He was definitely putting on a brave face. “I mean… this first date was more like my choice than yours. Sure, you signed up for the whole auction thing, but I was the one who bid on you, right? So, if I’m not really your type and you want to treat it like a Vegas-trip, that’s fine.”
“A Vegas trip?”
“Yeah, you know. What happens at the orchard stays at the orchard?” He laughed, but it wasn’t the airy melody I was used to; there was a weight to it dragging it down. “That’s okay. I’d just like to know where we’re standing. For the record — and just in case it isn’t obvious — I do like you a lot. Even if you might be an axe murderer and the only thing that’s saving me is the fact that I’m not a virgin.”
This time his giggle sounded a lot more like himself, and I managed a smile at his antics, but my mind was still tangled up trying to think about what to do.
