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“Swapping spit tends to get us into trouble, so maybe we should just shake without exchanging bodily fluids.”
I swallow thickly. I wish I could say something smart to that, leave him with a lasting impression of my brilliance, but I’m pretty sure I’ve already left enough of an impression without trying. FML times twenty point eight.
“We’ll shake tonight after dinner. And after we lay down some rules,” Asher adds.
That makes sense. Here I was, ready to offer my hand like a dummy. I nod quickly and turn. Asher makes it out of my office before I even sit back down. When I do, I collapse into the chair so hard that it makes a strange belching noise at me.
I can’t imagine what surprise Asher has in mind, and I’m almost afraid. Things have been going down the pooper pretty fast lately, so I don’t trust my luck. My luck is about as good as the trash fire that happened yesterday. In fact, it’s a pile of dung—a big heaping bowl of excrement. Ugh, who would put that in a bowl? Lord.
I check the time and realize I only have three hours to wait. I also have approximately that same amount of time to figure out how I’m going to handle Asher Paris tonight. At my house. Alone. With me. It shouldn’t be a big deal as we’re only fake dating, and it probably doesn’t require anything more than the ability to lie, smile, and shrug.
With a heavy sigh, I lean back, shut my eyes, and tell that to the goosebumps which just broke out all over my body.
CHAPTER 7
Asher
I’ve kissed a few women before. A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, so I’ll just say it might have been a little bit more than a few. With my more than limited experience, I’m not sure why I can’t get that kiss with Emily out of my mind. It wasn’t even real. She was just doing it to get back at her ex, and it had zero premeditation or any lead-up to it.
And yet.
Maybe that’s what made it more meaningful.
I don’t know, but I do know that when I pull up to her house, things feel different. We’re only fake dating, and we’re going to talk about a list of rules. I’m seriously not here for any other reason since I basically bribed her into this.
And still.
I climb out of the car and glance around. As far as I know, I wasn’t followed. There aren’t any photographers or skeezy vans sitting at the curb, awaiting my arrival, which is already a good sign. Maybe once they did some research after breaking the kiss story and found out that Emily is just a normal person, they gave up. Perhaps they’re just waiting for my next scandal, confident I’ll have moved on in a week or two.
It makes me feel like a real butthole—a dirty one at that—to realize those thoughts are probably true. That’s how I’ve dated in the past.
No wonder my granny says I’ll put her in an early grave. If I had a kid like me, I’d probably be spouting off the same. And she also had my mother to contend with for the past fourty-some odd years as well.
I feel nervous as I walk up to the front door. It’s after six, so I’m sure my surprise has already arrived. When I knock on the door, I’m even more astounded to have Emily rip it open and snarl at me as if I’ve just been caught red-handed trying to light a kitten on fire.
“How could you get me this?” she hisses, her lips pulled back. “Seriously?”
There’s only one thing to do in a situation like this. In most situations, actually. Shrug. And smile. “Whatever I did, I didn’t do it on purpose. Personally, I thought it was a nice gesture.”
“Personally, you can shove your surprises up your hind end.” Emily spits out, but then she moderates her expression when she notes my confusion. “I mean, thank you. Thank you for the table. I really do appreciate it. It was very kind of you to replace my last one. But, as you know…” She looks behind me, grips me by the front of my dress shirt, and hauls me inside. Then, she slams the door after I stumble in. I’ve lost my ability to shrug, and my smile has been wiped away to be replaced by surprise. Emily is somewhere around five-six and probably a hundred pounds, and she just dragged me in like I’m a toothpick myself.
She throws her hands on her hips. “I wanted to say that since you know I’m single now, the surprise isn’t a very good one.”
“Why is that?” I’m still really freaking confused here. I’ve given a lot of gifts in the past, mostly purses, shoes, dresses, jewelry, the usual, and most women enjoy receiving them.
