Faking It With the Grump
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She looks suddenly nervous. “Okay, here’s the thing. I kind of told some people today that you and I are…well, that we’re…”
When she doesn’t complete her sentence, I lean in and ask, “You and I are what?”
She glances around nervously before she says, “Dating.”
I straighten, shocked.
As my brain tries to comprehend what she just said, I blink at her a few times.
I need clarification. In my experience, beautiful women don’t usually go around telling people they’re dating you without your knowledge.
Well, not sane, beautiful women, anyway.
“Did you say you’ve told people you and I are dating?” I ask.
She nibbles on her lip, reminding me of a rabbit. It only adds to her appeal. Despite my concern, she’s confirmed she’s not exactly sane. “I did warn you it was weird.”
“That’s true, you did. But that doesn’t explain why, exactly.”
She clasps her hands together, clearly uncomfortable.
I’m overcome with the strangest sensation, wanting to reach out and place my hand over hers to reassure her it’s okay.
She takes a breath. “I know this makes me sound crazy. And I’m not crazy. Really, I’m not.”
Said no crazy person ever.
“I don’t know if you recognize me or know what happened, but even if you don’t, I really, really need you to pretend to date me because—”
Her eyes dart to something behind me, and before I fully realize what’s happening, she’s pushed the bar stool to one side, closed the distance between us, a decidedly wild look in her eyes.
“Everything all right?” I ask her tentatively.
“Okay if I kiss you?” she murmurs out of the corner of her mouth.
I blink at her. “Now you want to…kiss me?”
She nods, her eyes darting behind me and then back to my face. “That okay with you?”
This gorgeous woman who smells like a meadow, the double threat, the woman who only just told me she wants to pretend to date me, now wants to kiss me.
As confusing as this situation may be, I’d be an idiot not to leap at this.
“Sure,” I tell her, the thought of having her soft lips pressed against mine making my belly clench.
It would appear she’s not a woman to be told twice.
Immediately, she pulls herself up onto her toes, places her hands at the back of my head, and before I can utter another word—like “why?”—she leans in toward me and kisses me.
I don’t move for fear this is some kind of mirage. Not that I think mirages are all that common in Washington, what with it not being a desert. But seriously, this sort of thing doesn’t happen to me a whole lot. Or, you know, ever.
And I’ll be honest, as far as kisses go, it’s easily the most surprising of my life, hands down. One second, she’s explaining to me why she wants me to fake date her, and the next she’s kissing me, like it’s no big deal at all.
The problem is, for me to kiss someone like Harper Cole, it should be a big deal.
3/17/2023 06:39:56 pm
Fun excerpt! This sounds awesome!
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