Cheesy on the Eyes: Fake Dating Romcom (Slice Book 5)

by Teagan Hunter

  “Well, it was nice to meet you, Thea.” Casey gives the stranger a shy grin. “You too, Sullivan. We’re meeting some friends for lunch, and I see them waving us over.”

  “Oh, sure. Don’t let us keep you waiting.” Sullivan waves them on. “I’m sure our pizza will be out any second.”

  “You eat pizza?” Jaden questions me. “Since when?”

  My mouth goes dry, eyes widening.

  Fuck. We’re caught.

  “Dessert pizza. My girl’s got a sweet tooth I need to help satisfy. Right, babe?”

  I’m shocked at his correct guess, and so damn thankful for it too because Jaden’s lips tip up in a small smile, looking at me fondly.

  I used to crave that smile, used to miss it so much it hurt.

  Now, I’m just annoyed by it.

  “I remember those days. She’d turn into an ogre if she didn’t have her sweets.” He snorts. “Good luck with that beast.”

  Without another word to us, Jaden directs his girlfriend—who is polite enough to throw us a sympathetic smile—toward their friends.

  When he’s out of earshot, I breathe again.

  “God, that was close.” Sullivan exhales heavily, clambering back into the booth, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Look, I’m just gonna say it—you dodged a bullet with that one. Guy is a total douchebag.”

  “How would you know? You just met him.”

  “I can read people. It’s a gift—or a curse.” Sullivan lifts his shoulder. “Whichever.”

  “Right,” I say slowly, watching as he sinks lower into the booth, getting comfortable.

  He drags a menu from the holder at the end of the table, propping it against the table in front of him. His eyes scan the pages. “Did you want to do the Brownie Cosmo or There’s Cookie All Over My Pie? Both sound damn good right about now.”

  I blink at him.

  Is he serious?

  He continues to scroll over the menu, dark brows pinching together as he looks the options over.

  When I don’t answer, he peeks over the menu. “Thea?”

  Thea.

  Oh hell. His deep voice caresses my name just as effortlessly as his finger touched my palm.

  He waves a hand in front of my face. “Earth to crazy lady.”

  I snap out of my haze, shaking my head and clearing my throat.

  “Sor—” I catch myself before I apologize, because I have nothing to apologize for. What the hell is he doing? “What are you doing, dude?”

  He grins at the moniker. “It’s Sullivan, Sully for friends.”

  “We’re not friends.”

  “Right, I forgot—we’re dating.” Another stupid smirk. “Soon to be more if I play my cards right.”

  “You can leave now, you know. He’s gone.”

  Sully leans across the table. “Except…he’s not, is he? He’s still in the restaurant, just a few booths away. He’d see me go back to my seat.” He sits back with a satisfied smirk. “I guess we’re in it for the long haul now.”

  I groan. “Son of a…”

  He pulls the menu back up, but I know his smile doesn’t fade. I can see the crinkles at the corners of his Aegean blue eyes. “Now, did we decide brownie or cookie? Ah, screw it. Let’s do both.”

  Slice Two

  Sully

  I don’t remember the exact first time I was able to read someone’s aura, but I know I was young when it began. My stomach would get so tied up in knots I’d wind up nauseous.

  At first, it was just small things that made me feel all funky, like a guy on TV or a character in a book.

  Then it started to feel real.

  Tatum Barden, the primary school bully who’d pick on me for the notes my mom would stuff into my sack lunch, always made me feel…wrong, and Mr. Peters’ dog who would bark like mad whenever I walked by on my way home from the bus stop made me anxious in a way I knew wasn’t natural even then.

  When Tatum was hauled off to a home for troubled boys after he smashed a rock into a kid’s head and put him in a coma, I took note, and when Mr. Peters’ dog was put down after it bit a neighbor girl, I knew I should start paying attention to those uncomfortable feelings.

  So, when my stomach would turn to stone on the nights my father came home smelling like whiskey and trouble or when one of his “co-workers” would drop by for an unexpected visit, I didn’t ignore it.

  That’s when I started to notice the bruises popping up on my mother’s arms.

  “Oh, that? It’s no big deal, Sullivan. I just bumped into my dresser. You know your mom’s clumsy. Now, how about we bake some cupcakes. Sound good?”

  When I told my mom about the aches, she looked worried but told me to listen to those feelings, said they’d help me suss out the good apples from the bad ones.

  Turns out my dad was a real bad apple, a liar and a fake.

  When I was ten, the cops busted down our door and hauled his ass away for money laundering, fraud, and identity theft. He was a con man, and those “co-workers” who would come to visit were people he owed debts to.

  It didn’t escape my notice that my mom never had another “clumsy” moment after he went away.

  The older I got, the more accurate my intuition became. I knew who I could trust and who to avoid. It’s been the downfall of any relationship I’ve ever tried to have.

  When the pretty girl sitting across from me flagged me down asking for help and I couldn’t see anything, I knew my curiosity wasn’t going to allow me to turn away—especially not when all it took was one look at the guy she was trying to avoid to know he was trouble.

  Hell, I haven’t gotten vibes like that since my little sister brought home some guy I knew would break her heart. I warned her to stay away. She didn’t listen. In the end, I was right. The asshole was no better than my father, unable to keep his hands to himself.

  When the stranger asked me to sit down, I put two and two together fast. There was no doubt in my mind the guy striding in with the centerfold-material woman on his arm was her ex and things hadn’t ended so well with them.

  Be her buffer? I’m game, because whatever settled in my gut the moment we locked eyes was something I’ve never felt before, and that made me damn curious.

  Besides, I have nothing to lose in this situation, and I’m not doing anything else with my day.

  “For fuck’s sake, Thea. Why couldn’t you just pull your damn panties up and face the man? Freakin’ baby,” my tablemate mutters to herself.

  Though I don’t understand why she sounds upset, her rambling is kind of cute.

  “I didn’t hear the words brownie or cookie in any of that.”

  Thea snatches the menu from my hands. “How’d you even know I like sweets so much?”

  I shrug. “Just a guess. You apparently don’t like pizza, which is completely blasphemous, but it’s a savory food, so I figured I’d swing the opposite way and go with sweets.” I grin. “Guess I was right.”

  Her face twists up and she purses her lips like she sucked on something sour. “Stop doing that.”

  “What?”

  She circles her finger over her lips. “Smirking like that, like you just won something.” Her eyes widen and she pushes her shoulders back against the booth. “Oh my god—I am not sleeping with you for rescuing me.”

  “Well, that took a turn. Did I imply that I expect sex in return for helping you avoid your ex?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then you’re thinking about it.”

  She jerks her head back. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re thinking about sleeping with me because I rescued you. If I didn’t imply it and it’s on your mind…well, then…”

  She snorts haughtily, turning her nose up. “You wish.”

  “Or do you?” I smirk again, just to piss her off.

  She pops open the menu, laying it across the table and leaning over it to read.

  Her caramel hair falls out from behind her ear and she tucks the errant locks back. Her lips move
as she reads the words, and I can’t help but smile at that. She’s dressed casually in a classic white tee and jean shorts. A gold bracelet glints on her wrist, matching the two sets of small hoops in her ears. She’s wearing minimal makeup, if any at all, and her short hair is wild like she spent her morning out on the beach just like me.

  Man, what I wouldn’t give to be out in the waves right now…

  “Brookies & Cream.”

  I drag my attention back to her.

  “Huh?”

  “Our pizza.” She points to the menu. “I want the Brookies & Cream one.”

  “Good choice. I’ll go place our order.”

  “No need,” she says when I begin to crawl back out of the booth. “SIMON!”

  She shouts the name, waving behind me.

  Simon, the owner of Slice, saunters up to our table. His eyes flit between me and Thea, the surprise clear. “This is an interesting development. I didn’t realize you two knew one another.”

  “You two know each other?” Thea asks, pointing between me and my best friend’s father.

  “We go way back,” I tell her.

  Simon laughs. “Want me to send your drink order here?”

  “That would be great. Also, can we get a Brookies & Cream?”

  “Sure thing. Anything else?”

  I glance down at the dwindling basket of fries. “A chocolate shake and another order of these, please.”

  “Got it.” He leans down conspiratorially. “See if you can get this one to try my pizza, huh?”

  “Give it up, Simon. It’s never gonna happen.”

  He glares at her. “I’m strongly considering barring you from my establishment.”

  “Please.” She tosses him a flirty grin. “You’d miss me too much.”

  He grunts in response, striding off to put our order in.

  “So, do you come here often?” Thea asks as soon as Simon’s gone.

  I chuckle at her choice of words. “I don’t not come here often.”

  “Well I do come here often, and I’ve never seen you here before.” Her body language says casual, but her tone is accusatory.

  “Okay, this might sound crazy, but hear me out. I bet—and I’m just spitballing here—we come at different times.”

  She rolls her eyes at me again. “What a novel observation.”

  I laugh. “Simon’s son is one of my best friends.”

  “Thank you for the straight answer.” She grabs hold of her water, taking a long pull from the straw. “I’m just surprised I haven’t seen you around these parts. Small town and all.”

  “I’m kind of a loner.” I lift a shoulder. “Plus, work keeps me busy.”

  Nodding, she says, “I can relate to that. That’s what I’m doing here—working.”

  “At a pizzeria? On a Saturday?”

  “Yep.”

  “But you hate pizza.” It’s not a question, just an observation.

  “Yep,” she answers again.

  “And why is that?”

  She sighs like she’s explained this a million times before, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she has. Pizza is just a weird thing to hate. “Well, as you guessed, I love sweets, and coffee shops have sweets. I can’t work at a coffee shop and not get something tasty. I just don’t have that kind of willpower in me, and I’m aware of that fault. So, I come here. No temptation.”

  “Except we just ordered dessert pizza…” I point out.

  “And because of that, I’ll never be able to come here and work again.”

  I tilt my head. “Why’s that?”

  “Because I’ve never ordered their dessert before, and I wanted to keep it that way.”

  My eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not.”

  “How have you never… Is that even…”

  I lean across the table.

  “What are you doing?” She tries to back up.

  “Looking at your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m curious if they’re brown.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Just want to see if I’m right about you being full of shit or not.”

  She narrows her very green eyes. “Seriously?”

  “I could ask you the same thing. You love sweets but you haven’t tried some of their best creations?”

  “I just pretend they don’t exist when I’m here.”

  “How come you don’t do that at the coffee shop, then?”

  She twists her lips. “I’m sorry, is my working here bothering you or something?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. Just…curious.”

  Settling into the booth, she crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up, but not in a pay attention to my tits kind of way. That doesn’t stop me from doing it, though, because…well, boobs. “Smell.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Take a whiff of the air in here.”

  I do. “It smells like pizza.”

  “Exactly. It smells nothing like dessert pizza. What does a coffee shop smell like?”

  “Sweet. Ah.” I dip my chin. “I get it now. So, what do you usually get when you come here?”

  “Salad. Cheesy bread. Sometimes I just get French fries and water. I’m easy.” She pushes her shoulders back. “Well, not easy—not like that anyway.”

  I laugh, sitting back. “Relax, Thea. I promise I’m not trying to sleep with you.”

  “Good, because it’s not happening.”

  “So you’ve said—many times now. It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than you’re trying to convince me.”

  “Whatever,” she mutters as the waitress approaches the table.

  “Here’s that shake and basket of fries for you. And your Cherry Coke,” she says, sliding my drink over to me. “Your pizza will be out in just a bit.”

  “Thanks, Berenice.”

  “No problem, Sully. Good to see you back.”

  Berenice smiles at me and scurries off to help her next table.

  “Back? Were you gone?”

  “Work,” I tell Thea. “I spent the beginning of my summer on a fishing charter. For the last time, thank fuck.”

  “That bad?”

  “I loved it, except the days were just a little too long and a little too hot. Plus, there was the whole having to touch the fish part.”

  She laughs. “That is one sentiment I can get behind. I work on the north end of the island near the docks. I might not have to touch them, but I constantly smell whatever the boats are bringing in.”

  “Hmm. We frequent the same places and we work near one another, yet we haven’t run into each other before.” I scratch at the stubble on my chin. “Curious.”

  “Maybe—and I’m just spitballing here—we work at different times.”

  I chuckle as she throws my words back at me. “Touché.”

  Her vibrant grassy eyes spark as she beams, feeling quite proud of herself.

  She relaxes into the booth, tucking the papers that were all over the table when I first approached more neatly into their respective folders. A silence looms over us that’s likely a bit too comfortable for two people who just met, but Thea doesn’t seem to mind.

  I watch as she meticulously stacks the pages together, making sure every edge lines up just right. She clips them together with different-colored paperclips and then separates them even further inside the folders.

  “One Brookies & Cream pie for the lovely couple,” Simon says as he sets our pizza down between us, and I slowly drag my attention from the intriguing woman sitting opposite me.

  “What the… H-How…” Thea stutters.

  “I may be a little old, but I’m not blind. It’s obvious this is a date.”

  “Oh my god, this is not a date!” she seethes.

  “That’s not what we just told your ex,” I point out.

  “Ah, so that’s what this is.” Simon grazes his fingers over his graying beard. “You’re her buffer.”

  “Sure
am.”

  “And how’d you get roped into that?”

  “Honestly? I just happened to be the first person who stood up. Had to take a leak at just the right—or possibly wrong, haven’t decided yet—time, and she accosted me.”

  “Accosted you? I waved you over here. You came willingly!”

  “I was curious. Besides, when you have a pretty girl waving at you, you pay attention.”

  I don’t miss the way her cheeks redden at my words.

  “Damn. And here I thought someone was finally brave enough to take you on, Thea.”

  She glances up at Simon with a cocky grin. “Take me on? Please. I don’t think there’s a guy in this small town with balls big enough.”

  Simon laughs. “You got me there.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Good luck, Sully.”

  Then he’s gone, leaving us to our food.

  I stare over at Thea as she wastes no time before digging in.

  I like the way her eyes light up as the gooey marshmallow topping stretches when she pulls a piece away and sets it on her plate. A few chocolate candies fall astray, and she picks them all up, popping them into her mouth, not wanting to miss a single bit of the dessert.

  She wasn’t kidding when she said she loves sweets.

  I don’t know why I ordered a whole dessert pizza, especially since they only come in large. I’m not big on sweets myself, but seeing her excitement about the pile of sugar in front of us makes it all worth it.

  Thea lifts the slice to her mouth, taking a huge bite of the chocolate, marshmallow, candy piece concoction. This monster—all puns intended seeing as it’s a Halloween-themed creation—is topped with all kinds of candy you never thought you’d see on pizza.

  Somehow, I bet it works. That’s just the magic Simon Daniels wields.

  Slice is the most popular pizza place on the coast, if not the entire state. Hardcore pizza enthusiasts travel hundreds of miles to try his think-outside-the-box creations, and he ought to be damn proud of himself for his accomplishments.

  Thea moans around the sweet treat. “Oh fuck. Fuuuuuck.”

  She draws the word out in a way that should solely be reserved for the bedroom and not utilized in public places, especially since it makes my dick jump to life.

  “Good?” I tease, adjusting my jeans, which are suddenly feeling too tight, as I try to pretend her sounds don’t affect me.