“You know, I’ve gotten into art myself. I’m going to be doing the mural this fall,” she says with a grin, and even though I’ve nearly written off bidding on it, I can’t help but tip my head.
“I heard it was a bid process? Did they change that?”
She gives me a coy look and waves her hand.
“Oh, well, my daddy said that my entry is the most impressive, so I’m basically a shoo-in. Why, were you thinking about entering?”
“I haven’t decided,” I say through tight teeth. She lifts a careless shoulder, probably sensing she already hit her target and can move on, knowing she ruined my day.
“Well, I was just about to go get a tan, but I saw you and your friend and thought I’d say hi.” Her rude tone softens to something sickly sweet, and she leans in, touching Graham’s forearm, eyes eating up every inch of him. It takes everything in me not to push her away, and not to question where the hell that came from. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” she asks.
I don’t want to introduce them. I don’t want to give Cece any kind of in, any kind of upper hand. She seems like she would be his type—put together, gorgeous, sure of herself, and I know he would be her type—hot, wealthy, powerful.
“This is Graham. Graham, this is Cece?—”
“Stevens,” she says, putting a hand out to Graham. He stares at it for a long moment before eventually taking it and shaking stiffly. Cece bats her eyelashes at him. “I haven’t seen you around. We don’t get many new faces in Seaside Point. I’d love to take you around, help you get to know our great town. How do you know our June?”
But even though some part of me sees Graham asmine, I know that it’s me being silly, so I give her a tight smile and start to answer.
“This is my?—”
“Her boyfriend,” Graham startles me by saying.
“You’redatingJune?” she asks, unable to hide her shock. I force myself to remain neutral, to now show shock at Graham’s words or irritation at Cece’s insinuation.
“Found the most gorgeous woman in Seaside Point, had to do whatever I could to make her mine,” he says, a smug smirk on his lips.
It’s not one of the radiant smiles I’ve seen, something that gives me strange relief since I wouldn’t want to share that with Cece. Instead, this one is all sex appeal and cocky attitude. His actions punctuate it, his hand moving to my hip and wrapping to my waist, tugging me into his side and pressing his lips to my hair.
“June wouldneverdate a tourist,” Cece says with a shake of her head. “She hates them.”
That’s notcompletelytrue, but I don’t get the opportunity to correct her before Graham is speaking.
“Good thing I’m not a tourist then, huh? My lady luck here sold me on this place,” he says.
The words roll off his lips so easily, I almost buy them myself.
My lady luck.
God, what I’d give to have him call me that for real.
Despite common sense, I find myself melting into his side, soaking it in. He smells good, musky and woodsy, expensive cologne mixed with sweat from walking in the heat for the past hour. I wish I could bottle it up, save it for a day when I’m feeling lonely.
“Hmm,” Cece says, breaking into my messy thoughts.
“Well, I hope you have a great day. Great meeting you,” Graham says, staring her down, and pulling me closer into him until my hand has to move to his chest to catch myself. I let it rest there, feeling the hard muscles against my forehead, and even his hot chest can’t distract me from my misery.
“I’m so screwed,” I whisper. “She totally didn’t buy it, and now she’s going to tell everyone that I’m a big fat loser who needs her hot boss to pretend he’s my boyfriend to not let the mean girl make fun of me.”
A smile crosses Graham’s face, the real one, and even though it is magnificent, I elbow him. A wide grin spreads across his lips, showing me the dimple I find myself doing everything in my power to see. “It’s not funny!” I say, but there’s a smile in my words. He pulls me in closer.
“It’s a little funny,” he mutters. Then he pulls me into him fully, his hand settling on my lower back, pulling me chest to chest with him as his other hand slowly tips my chin up.
“What are you doing?” I ask, whispering, my back to Cece.
“She’s still watching us. I’m selling it,” he says. Before I can ask what he means, his lips are on mine. A gasp leaves my lips, but he holds me closer. On instinct, my free hand moves up to his shoulder, the other gripping the fabric of his tee, clinging onto him. His lips move along mine, his kiss soft and sweet and just as good as I convinced myself it was that first night.
Except better, because it’s relaxed and casual, as if we do it every single day. His hand is on my waist, his other cupping my chin to position me where he wants me.
