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“Definitely not,” he quoted me.
I threw myself back against the seat and let my head hit the soft leather of the booth’s top. Then I looked back at him with my brave face on. “Okay, listen. I told you. Things fizzle out pretty quickly one way or the other when I start seeing a guy. Usually, we don’t even make it to kissing.”
Again, more slow nodding. “And when youdo, you think it’sgross.”
Flailing my hands in front of me, I let out an exasperated noise. “Ugh, it’s the mechanics of the whole thing. It’s never as romantic in real life as it is in books.”
“It definitely can be.” He didn’t say it, but his eyes told me what he was thinking.
It definitely can be… with me.
Shaking my head to clear that frighteningly appealing image, I stood my ground. “Well, I disagree. So, no need to put anything in your contract about us kissing. There won’t be a need.”
“We could put certain parameters around it, though. Like, if certain things happen, and we have to kiss, we will.”
The snort shot out of me before I could stop it. “Sorry, butwhenhas that ever happened in real life, though? When does a kissneedto happen?”
“Could be anything. We’re supposed to be a couple, so if the situation calls for a kiss, we’ll kiss. But if not, we won’t.” When I didn’t respond, he leaned closer again. “Are you going to get all wigged out if I have to kiss you, Lyndi? Because if our first kiss has an audience and you push me away so you can avoid throwing up, that’s gonna be a problem.”
I pictured the scene playing out in my mind and barely contained the laughter it caused to well up in my chest. “I really hope not.” Though, of course, the idea of kissingBeaudidn’t sound gross to me. At all.
“If you were a client, I wouldn’t even suggest this, but—”
I held up a hand, eyes wide. “Beau Devereux, if you were about to suggest…” I trailed off, looking around to make sure no one was listening, then I leaned close and kept my voice low. “If you’re about to suggest that we do a practice kiss before the wedding, I might actually kill you.”
“What? Are you serious? Can you blame me?”
“For that level of cheese? I absolutely can. The practice kiss is like the number-one trope under the fake relationship umbrella, and buddy, it’s not happening.”
Full-blown laughter poured out of him, causing him to throw back his head and put one hand on his flat stomach while the other covered his eyes. When he collected himself, he looked down at me with way too much of a sparkle in his gaze.
“Okay, you win. No practice kissing. And as much as I’d love to show you that you’re wrong about it being gross, I’m also a little relieved.”
I caught my jaw before it dropped, simply blinking at him instead. “You are?”
“Yeah. Kissing has a surcharge, remember? I’m not going to kiss you any more than I have to.”
When he opened his laptop like the conversation was over, I snaked out my hand and closed it again with a soft snap. “Hold on. If it’s not becauseyoualso think it’s gross—which, yeah, yeah, we’ve established is weird—then why do you charge extra for kissing? What do you have against it?”
He licked his lips, causing me to avert my eyes. But then I looked back at him because I was way too curious about this to not try to read his reaction to it.
“Because kissing can lead to… feelings.”
There was something about the wariness in his tone that made me want to probe him for more details about why he avoided feelings like the plague, but I stopped myself, deciding to crack a joke, instead. That was my thing—joking instead of feeling—after all, so who was I to judge?
“I mean, itcouldlead to feelings… unless she thinks it’s gross.”
His lips turned up into a slow, crooked smile. “She wouldn’t think that.”
Gulping, I felt my skin flush under his gaze.This guy is trouble.
“What makes you so sure?” I asked, unconsciously tipping toward him like he was a magnet, and I was a puny paper clip with no choice but to obey.
“I already told you,” he said, meeting me halfway so there was barely six inches between our lips. “Iaimto please.”
Someone dropped a dish behind me, and I sat back with a start as it shattered. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the source of the interruption and shot laser beams of gratitude to the clumsy barista who’d dropped it.
Turning back to Beau, I tapped on the top of his laptop. “Okay, Romeo, put down that it’sonlyallowed if necessary; but I’m fairly certain that will never happen.”
