Page 5 of My Grumpy Sweetheart
I whined. “But the axe murderer is hot.” I let out a breath both in relief because there he was, Mr. Axe Murderer, and because Parker might have a point about skipping potential murderers. “Maybe you’re right. I haven’t placed a bid yet, but I definitely will. Especially since it’s a win-win-win situation. I get a hot date, a vacation, and the money will help homeless queer teenagers. It’s a no brainer for me. But I totally get why it’s too early for you. I’ll just invite you to the pub for burgers next week.”
I’d hoped Parker would be happy about my invitation, but he just went silent on me before sighing heavily. “Fuck, you play dirty, Bailey. The money goes to homeless queer teens?”
I blinked at my phone. Was he listening to what I was saying? Because I was getting the feeling he wasn’t hearing what I wasactuallysaying. Which, yeah, was fair, I guess, since he was going through a breakup, but…“You do know I’m not trying to play dirty, right?” I took a deep breath, trying not to feel hurt by his words, though they definitely stung a little. But this wasn’t about me. This was about Parker. And if he wanted to know more about the charity, I’d tell him. So I made sure to mark Mr. Axe Murderer’s questionnaire as a favorite — just in case I wanted to have a look at it again, not that I was seriously contemplating actually bidding for him; nope, nu-uh, not at all — and went back to the info section to read up on the charity because I might’ve only skimmed through that part.
To be completely honest, I didn’t really understand why Parker considered doing the charity auction, even after he explained a little bit about his brother to me, but if it helped him getting over the asshole, I was all for it. And that’s what I told him — minus the name-calling part.
“Thanks, Bailey, I’ll let you know if I end up doing this damn thing.”
I chuckled. I sure as shit hoped so. If I ended up being responsible for him getting out there and getting laid, I wanted to know all the good stuff.
“Okay… but I call dibs on the axe murderer!” I giggled, though I was only half joking. Damn the fucking AIDA method. He’d caught me hook, line, and sinker, that fucking grumpy fucker. “You’ll know it’s him if you see his profile. He looks like he wants to murder you — with the axe he’s holding. But I kinda like that… Damn, that sounds messed up, but it’s not, I promise. Anyway… What do you say? Let’s hit the pub next week?”
“No judgment man. I don’t kink shame,” Parker said, laughing what sounded like a real, heartfelt laugh. “But I promise the axe murderer is all yours. And yeah, that sounds perfect. Text me later to make plans? Because you know me well enough to know I’ll forget the other way around.”
Like he was the only one of us to forget stuff. If I didn’t add it to my calendar, I’d have forgotten all about it in like ten minutes, max. My object permanence was crap at the best of times. “Will do. Bye.”
“Take it easy, man. And congrats again, Bailey. You completely earned that promotion.” Parker paused for a moment. “All right, I’ll talk to you later.”
A couple of minutes later, I was still sitting on my couch, staring at my phone, trying to work through everything that’d happened just now. It felt like a lot.
Fuck. I felt so bad for Parker. He deserved better.
I really hoped the auction, should he enter, would help him get over the douchebag.
Oh. The auction!
I tapped away on my screen, going back to Mr. Axe Murderer’s profile.
Yeah, he still looked like a grumpy, murdering, hipster lumberjack. But according to his profile, he also loved animals — especially dogs — nature, and he had a strong dislike ofeverything that’s fun.
I giggled. I sure as fuck hoped he loved sarcasm; otherwise, it was going to be a long ass weekend because yeah… fuck it. The AIDA method totally worked on me. He’d caught my attention, got me interested, awoke the desire to meet the weird guy who posted murderer-selfies as profile pics to an online dating app, and now I’d take action and get that date with him.
I entered the price I was willing to pay into the little box at the bottom of the questionnaire and closed my eyes for a second.
Here’s hoping I hadn’t made a huge mistake.
CHAPTERTWO
DAKOTA
“You did what?” I screamed at my friends, staring at them in horror and disbelief, searching for hints that they’d lost their fucking minds because they very clearly had.
This was supposed to be a fun, relaxing weekend camping trip, but the throbbing vein in my neck told me I was everything but relaxed.
“Listen, man…” Liam started to say, nervously turning the beer bottle in his hands.
“Iamlistening, but I must have misheard because I think you guys just told me that you fucking SOLD me off like cattle.” I swear, I tried not to shout — but how could I not, considering everything they’d done?
The bottle in my hands shook violently from rage, my chest was heaving, my vision blurring from the tension inside of me.
“We didn’t… it’s not like that… we just…” Jason shrugged helplessly, looking at the others for help.
“It’s not likewhat?” I asked, breathing in deeply through my nose, holding my breath for a couple of seconds before carefully releasing it. This anger wasn’t good for me. I knew that. And I hated always being this angry, feeling the rage setting fire to my blood.
I’d left the corporate world behind to get a handle on my issues and cut out a big chunk of the stress and pressure, and most of the time, I was fine now. At least if my friends didn’t go and sell me off, which, as far as I knew, was considered slavery and was generally frowned upon within the US. “Did you or did you not auction me off without my consent?” There. I’d managed to ask that quietly. Through clenched teeth, but quietly.
“Yes, but it was for charity,” Jason hurriedly said, his cheeks turning bright red.
