Page 27 of Hopeless
Does he mean me?It could only be me.
“She also told me I’d embarrassed myself and called me an asshole.”
I can’t stop the shy smile that curves across my lips. “Wow. She sounds really smart.”
It’s right as we hit the top of the embankment that he turns and glances over his shoulder. “She’s pretty too,” he murmurs, the golden sky glowing around his silhouette.
He almost freezes me in place with that little addition, but I cover it and roll my eyes with a light laugh. “Cute. Really cute.” I gently slap him across the shoulder to cut the tension, not wanting to bask in him and his smooth words for too long.
I remind myself that Beau is older and charming and about to be myfakefiancé.
He’s always been a flirt—a showboat—and it’s nice to get a peek at that side of him. It feels good to be the one who can bring it out in him, but if I’m going to go through with this bet, I’ll need to keep reminding myself that we’re pretending.
And that Eatons don’t mix with Jansens.
“Your house is nice.” I spin the cold bottle of beer between my palms. Truthfully, I’m not a beer gal, but this feels like a situation where beggars can’t be choosers. “Super modern.” I keep my head turned, peering around the open space.
Doesn’t suit him if I’m being honest. It’s all sharp corners and cold materials. Polished concrete floors. The odd wood beam paired with gray walls. Big floor-to-ceiling windows that face out over the open expanse of land on one side and the creek bed on the other.
“Yeah. After growing up in what felt like a mountain lodge, I built something a little different. Less Old West and more … ” He shrugs from across the table, dipping his tea bag into the steaming mug of water … over and over again.
It’s almost sexual. In, out. In, out.
This fake relationship is going to be painfully long if I can’t even deal with the way this man handles a tea bag.
I lick my lips, cross my legs, and take a deep swig of my beer, internally berating myself to get my shit together.
“Fresh. Sleek,” he concludes thoughtfully.
“Yes, well. It’s very masculine. Just like you.” My eyes snap to his. Smug humor graces his every feature. “Fuck. Just … ” I look away, spinning the bottle again, trying not to be overwhelmed by sitting across from him at a small dining table. “I’m nervous. You make me nervous.”
“Why?” He doesn’t budge, keeping his focus entirely onme.
Because I’m endlessly horny, and have you met yourself?
“This situation makes me nervous,” I clarify instead of blurting out the first thought that runs through my mind.
For once.
“Okay,” he leans back in his chair, appearing so relaxed. I envy his level of confidence. “Let’s talk it out. Plan it. Lay it all on the line.”
I nod, nibbling at my lip, trying not to let my eyes take the slide back down his body again. “Yes. We need some ground rules.”
He leans forward now, elbows propped on the table, mug between his big palms. I stare.
I wish I was that mug.
“No anal sex, Bailey,” he deadpans. “I know you’re really interested, but I’m just not that into it.”
I jolt, eyes about to bug out of my head. My hand shoots up over my lips, and I force myself to swallow the beer in my mouth so I don’t spray it all over him. “Oh my god!” I say from behind my fingers. “It was just a question!”
“Yup. A question that no other person has just casually lobbed out to me.”
“Well, who else am I supposed to ask?”
“Google?”
I lean back in the chair, groaning as I stare up at the ceiling. “It didn’t seem like a weird question in the moment.”
