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Somehow I think it’d be so much harder with him than it was with Sean.
I wrench away from him with a gasp, and both of his hands tighten reflexively, as if he’s reluctant to let me go. But when I squirm again, he releases me.
We stare at each other, breathing hard, and I lift a shaky hand to my mouth. “Well. I guess I did tell you to kiss all the women.”
He frowns in confusion, then glares in anger when he puts the pieces together. “That’s not why—”
“Yeah, it is,” I say, reaching for the doorknob and jerking the door open before he can keep me here and convince me to do something stupid. “You said it yourself—you kiss women for a living, Gage. Just do me a favor and keep me out of it. When I kiss guys, I like it to be for real.”
I slip into the hallway before he can reply, but I have to walk away now. Before I can dwell on the fact that pain flashed across his face at my words.
For the second time today, my eyes sting with the threat of tears—for myself, yes, but also because I’ve been so damn worried about not letting him hurt me that I haven’t really realized…what if I hurt him?
And why does that bother me so much?
Invitation Ceremony #7
Dear Naomi—
You are cordially invited to celebrate the wedding of Gage Barrett and his future bride on Saturday, May 21, at two o’clock in the afternoon. Dinner and dancing to follow.
*
The Runaway Groom on why he jilted Naomi: “Naomi’s gorgeous, but for whatever reason, she and I weren’t clicking on a mental or emotional level.”
*
Dear Ellie—
You are cordially invited to stay on at the villa as Gage Barrett continues his quest for his future bride.
*
(No text messages exchanged.)
Gage
So, Ellie wants me to kiss all the women?
I should.
Damn it, I should, just to give her what she wants. Or what she thinks she wants. Clearly the woman has me all figured out without knowing a damn thing.
But two hours into the latest group date, I realize that not only do I not want to kiss any of these women, I can barely stand to be in their company.
“So, like, what’s the craziest place you’ve ever hooked up with a girl?” Brittany M. squeezes my arm as she asks it, unabashedly pushing her tits against my biceps.
I glance down at her, realizing I haven’t been following her train of conversation at all. How’d we get here? “Sorry, babe, what?”
Brittany B. comes up on my other side, mimicking Brittany M.’s body language, only Brittany B.’s boobs are firmer (probably fake) and her smile a little more brittle. “Brit and I were talking earlier about how we both like to be a little wild.”
She holds my gaze as she says it, the tip of her tongue touching the center of her upper lip in a gesture that I suspect is meant to be sexy but instead feels manufactured and cheap.
“For God’s sake, leave the man alone,” Eden calls from behind us. “You’re monopolizing all his time.”
Brittany B. shoots a death look over her shoulder. “Really. And I’m guessing that you losing your favorite bracelet and asking Gage to go back and help you find it was a total accident, right?”
“Come on, guys, let’s not fight.” This from Kelsey, a smiley art teacher from Nashville who I’ve realized is the resident peacemaker. I reward the pretty brunette by extracting myself from the Brittanys’ clutches and draping my arm casually around Kelsey’s shoulders.
