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

by Teagan Hunter

  “How’d you know so much about the car?” she asks once we’re on the road.

  “My dad was a huge Steve McQueen fan. I’ve seen all of his movies multiple times, including Bullitt.”

  I see the wheels turning in her head as she tucks that piece of information away.

  Luckily, she doesn’t press, respecting my earlier request to keep my family off limits.

  We fall quiet as she continues to navigate away from the island and onto the highway. I watch her steer the car effortlessly, shifting smoothly and with precision.

  She looks sexy as hell.

  Dangerously so.

  We said no touching, but watching her behind the wheel of a 325-horsepower vehicle after she told me she wasn’t wearing anything under that sexy-as-sin skirt of hers? Yeah, it’s safe to say all I can think about is touching her, running my hands over her curves…letting my fingers play with her hair…holding her to me while I test to see if her lips feel as soft as they look…

  I wouldn’t mind getting a little dangerous with Thea.

  Not one damn bit.

  “Are you into cars in general?” Thea asks.

  “I know probably a little bit more than the average Joe”—she side-eyes me—“or Jane,” I amend, “but I’m nowhere near as fluent in car-speak as you are. I can’t dismantle and rebuild a motor or anything.”

  “I can,” she says, smiling big. I love that she’s so proud of what she does.

  “Is it hard?” I ask. “Being a female mechanic?”

  “If you mean is it hard to work in a male-dominated industry where I have to continuously prove myself to everyone over and over every single day and constantly get dismissed as nobody important, then yes.”

  I cringe. “I hate that I was one of those people.”

  “Eh.” She shrugs. “It’s whatever. There are people out there facing a lot more adversity than I am. On a larger scale, my complaints are minor.”

  “But they’re valid,” I interject.

  A small smile forms on her lips. “But valid.” She makes a turn, dodging a pothole, being extra careful with the beauty she knows she has. “The hardest of it all is relationships. Since my passion is primarily seen as a dude thing”—she rolls her eyes—“whatever that means, it’s hard to find guys who aren’t intimidated by me knowing more about cars than them.”

  “Was your ex like that?”

  “Not at first. He was cool with it, used my knowledge to impress all his buddies. Then he got…kind of jealous. He was always trying to correct me and would belittle me in front of people. Started poking fun at my blue-collar man job.” She sighs. “It’d be nice to find a guy who doesn’t give a shit about it.”

  “I don’t give a shit about it.”

  She grins at me. “You tryin’ to date me, Sullivan?”

  “I mean, technically, I am dating you.”

  “No. Contractually, you’re dating me. Technically, you’re not.”

  I laugh. “Fair.”

  “What about you? How are you still single?”

  “Are you implying I’m a catch?”

  “Please. You know you’re not bad to look at. Mrs. Harkle was telling me you have all the ladies on the dock swooning.”

  “Mrs. Harkle is a horny old bat.”

  “You ain’t wrong there.” She laughs. “She’s my favorite though. She’s so…her, you know? So unapologetic.” She smiles wistfully. “I can relate to that.”

  “You’re your own kind of special, that’s for sure.”

  “You know, my mom used to say that to me. I thought it meant something great until I got hit with the fact that it definitely doesn’t. Turns out being special is too much for some people.”

  I frown. “Is that why your ex dumped you?”

  “Yeah,” she whispers. “That was why he crawled into the bed of another woman too.”

  Her shoulders slump, her whole demeanor changing. She even loses some of her confidence, taking off from the stoplight and almost slipping a gear.

  Her reaction has me grinding my teeth together, the urge to punch the dick in the face growing strong.

  I knew I didn’t like her ex just from our brief meeting at Slice. It was easy to read him: prick, cold, thinks he’s better than everyone—especially her.

  Which is a bunch of goddamn bullshit if you ask me.

  She’s smart, witty, and a total fucking knockout.

  I don’t have to know her well to know he’s not better than her even on her worst days.

  “He’s a fucking dumbass,” I seethe. “Complete goddamn douchebag.”

  She giggles. “That’s the second time you’ve done that, called him a douchebag when you don’t even know him. I mean, you’re not wrong, but I still love it.”

  “I told you, I can read people.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I just get these vibes. These…feelings. I can usually read someone within a minute of meeting them. You know Foster and Wren, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, I kind of knew they’d end up together.” She shoots me a look, begging me to elaborate. “Don’t ask me how I knew, I just did. They felt…right.”

  She looks at me like she still doesn’t believe me.

  I sigh. “You asked why I’m still single, yeah? It’s because of my intuition thing. It keeps me from getting too close to people. I get these vibes, just these gut instincts that haven’t been proven wrong so far. No relationship has ever felt quite right before. There’s always been this nagging feeling of This isn’t it. I didn’t have that with Foster and Wren.”

  “Hmm. That’s…okay. A little odd, but okay. I believe intuition is a real thing, and some people can feel it more strongly than others, so I’ll roll with this.” She runs her tongue over her lips. “What about me? What kinds of feelings do I give you?”

  “You don’t.”

  She chews on her bottom lip, trying to figure out how my answer makes her feel. Her eyes keep flitting between me and the road.

  My opinion matters to her, and I like that more than I probably should.

  “You have nothing to be nervous about,” I tell her.

  “Easy for you to say. You didn’t just hear that you’re so complicated you can’t be read by some dude with freaky juju.”

  I laugh because she sounds exactly like Winston.

  “I don’t think me not being able to read you is a bad thing.”

  I’m starting to think it might be a good thing.

  A very good thing.

  I like Thea, and the more time I spend with her, the more that rings true.

  She nibbles on her bottom lip again. “I hope you’re right, Sully.”

  Slice Nine

  Thea

  We fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the ride after Sully told me he couldn’t read me, mostly because I didn’t know how to react to that.

  Is it good or bad that he can’t get a read on me?

  Is it unease or excitement I feel?

  I used to be proud of the fact that I’m a little complicated. I don’t try to be difficult; I just know what I like and what I don’t. I know my limits, know my weaknesses, and am familiar with my flaws. I’ve always owned that and stuck by it.

  But when you have someone dump you after four years of dating because you’re too challenging, it makes it hard to believe in yourself and your convictions like you once did.

  It’s embarrassing to admit, but I questioned everything about myself when Jaden dumped me.

  I doubted even more when I found out he’d sought the comfort of other women because I was too much.

  I felt like I did when I was little, before my parents built me up with all the confidence they pumped into us. It felt like when those people would judge me for wearing combat boots with my dresses or carrying around car manuals rather than Barbie dolls.

  It felt like I wasn’t enough, even when apparently I was too much.

  I pull into the movie theater l
ot and steer us toward the very back, trying to keep away from assholes who like to dent doors.

  Shutting off the engine, I turn toward Sully. He matches my movement.

  I study him for the first time this evening. Well…for the first time since he put clothes on.

  I had no idea Sully would be just getting out of the shower when I arrived at his boat. He wasn’t answering his phone, and my anxiety was starting to act up because I hate being late. I raced over there as fast as I could and hoped he’d answer.

  I’d just stepped into the cabin when he came out of the shower.

  I’ll admit, I didn’t alert him to my presence right away; I was too busy admiring him.

  When he ran off to get ready, he left his door open just a hair. I had to distract myself with timing him and poking around his boathouse or I was going to do something really stupid like push his door open and run my hands over his taut, smooth skin.

  He looks good tonight, but that shouldn’t be a surprise. He always does, somehow making something as simple as a plain t-shirt and jeans look like he’s a fucking cover model.

  He’s not one of those guys you stop and stare at. His attractiveness is subtle, yet it’s powerful, and there are so many little details that stick out when you stare at him for too long.

  Guilty, party of one.

  “Well, this is it—our first foray into the real world as a couple. You nervous?” I ask, pulling my eyes away from those lips I can’t seem to stop staring at.

  “Should I be?”

  “Well…no. I suppose not.”

  “Are you nervous?” he counters.

  “A little,” I admit. “I am lying to my entire family.”

  “I’m lying to them too.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t know them. It doesn’t count.”

  He grunts. “Trust me—lying to people you don’t know counts just as much as lying to the ones you love.”

  He says it like he has personal experience with someone conning him.

  I want to ask questions, but something tells me it’s related to his family, which seems to be off limits.

  “Well, you ready?” he asks, adjusting that damn baseball cap, then grabbing the door handle. “If we want time to grab snacks, we better get in there.”

  “Just one more thing…” I reach over and snatch the cap from his head, letting his hair fall free for the first time. His thick brows scrunch together. “What? I’ve been dying to see you without this stupid cap on.”

  “I didn’t have one on after the shower,” he points out.

  “Please. That doesn’t count. Wet hair looks nothing like dry hair. Also, you were only wearing a towel—do you really think I was paying attention to anything but that?”

  That smirk I’m growing to love returns. “And now that you’re finally paying attention?”

  His hair is between my fingers before I can think twice about it. I pinch and rub it between the pads. It’s so soft. I want to run my fingers through it all.

  “I knew you had curls,” I murmur. They’re boyish, but somehow it works for him.

  He swallows audibly and speaks softly. “I don’t usually. This is longer than I typically keep it.”

  “I like it. It suits you. You have that surfer boy vibe to you.”

  He laughs. “I guess that’s fitting, given it’s my favorite pastime.”

  “You surf?”

  “Almost every morning. Do you?”

  I shake my head. “No. I’ve always wanted to learn, but that whole fear-of-the-ocean thing stops me.”

  “I’ll teach you,” he offers. “Come with me sometime.”

  “Okay.”

  The word slips out with no effort at all, no hesitation. For some reason, being out on the water with Sully doesn’t scare me.

  “Thea?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you going to touch my hair forever?”

  “I wish I could.”

  The truth slips out easily, and it takes a moment for me to register what I just said to him.

  “We’re gonna be late.”

  “Oh.” I clear my throat, releasing the strands from my fingers and sitting back. “Right. Let’s go, then.”

  We climb out of the car, meeting around the front.

  My nerves start to make an appearance, and I blow out a steadying breath.

  “You ready?” Sully asks, standing so close I can feel his heat spreading over me.

  Another deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

  I don’t know who reaches for the other first, but our fingers entwine like they’re old friends.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  “Come on, Thea. Just let me have a cookie. It’s for Frankie.”

  “Stop trying to use your pregnant fiancée as an excuse to eat all my cookies. I know they’re for you.” I look him up and down. “Besides, I thought you had a tux to fit into?”

  “Wow. Wow. That’s the card you want to play? Is this because you’re still pissed at me for bailing on our movie the other night? Because that was one hundred percent Frankie’s fault.”

  I’m not mad at him, but that hasn’t stopped me from pretending to be to get my way over the last few days.

  My phone pinged with a text from Jonas just as Sully and I walked through the theater doors. Turned out even the thought of movie theater popcorn was triggering Frankie’s morning sickness, and they weren’t coming.

  We decided that since we’d driven all that way, we were going to see something.

  It was easily the most intense movie-watching experience I’ve had since Peter Barlet had his parents drive us to the theater in eighth grade and he touched my boobs.

  Sully and I shared a popcorn, and every time our hands brushed in the bucket, I swear they lingered a little longer. After he lifted the armrest, claiming it was more comfortable that way, I knew he was lying when he ended up plastered to my side. And when he slung his arm around my shoulders during the second half of the movie, I was glad I’d thought ahead to dress for cooler weather because I was sweating up a storm under his touch.

  The thing that got my heart racing the most: there was nobody he was putting on a show for. His actions weren’t motivated by anything. It was just…him.

  When I dropped him back at his boat, he hesitated in the car.

  “You can’t sleep in here, you know,” I tease.

  “I doubt there’s room for two in the back anyway.”

  “Two? Why, Sullivan, are you asking me to sleep with you?”

  He leans across into my space, getting so close I’m almost certain he can hear my heart hammering in my chest.

  I hold my breath because all it would take is an inch for his lips to be on me, and I wouldn't mind one bit if he closed the gap.

  “I told you, Thea…you’ll be the one begging.”

  Then he was gone.

  My heart hasn’t calmed down since.

  “Well, technically you’re the one who got me pregnant, so…” Frankie trails off, reaching for a cookie.

  I smack her hand away. “No!”

  “Come on, Thea. I’m carrying your future favorite niece or nephew. Just one cookie?”

  “But they’re precious,” I say, looking affectionately at my box of Daisy’s baked goods. “I can’t just go giving them all away.”

  “You bought two dozen. Two! You can’t let your favorite brother have just one?”

  “No.”

  “But you admit that I’m your favorite?”

  “You’re my only brother, moron.”

  “That you know of,” my mother says, sliding into the kitchen and snatching a cookie. She takes a huge bite, moaning just to tease Jonas. “Wow. That is so good.”

  “What the hell? You didn’t even try to stop her!” he complains.

  “Dude, she pushed me out of her vagina—without drugs. Pretty sure she can do whatever she damn well pleases.”

  “Yeah, Jonas. I pushed her out of my—”

  “Uh-uh.
No way!” Jonas shushes her, shaking his head vigorously, face contorted in disgust. “You are not allowed to talk about your vagina. That goes against rule number one of mother-son conversations. No vagina talk, even if it’s a birth story. It’s gross.”

  “Oh, please. I’m sure you idiots talk about way grosser things in the locker room,” I say.

  “That’s true,” Frankie agrees. “I’ve heard the stories you come home with.”

  “Some of those dudes, man… If the tabloids got wind of their extracurricular activities…” He shudders.

  “You’re not inviting any of those weirdos to the wedding, are you?”

  “Of course I am, Frank. They’re my brothers, even if they’re weird. If that rule is good enough for Thea, it’s good enough for them.”

  “Hey, you ass!”

  “Let me have a cookie and I’ll say ten whole nice things about you,” he barters.

  “If you’re not going to say nice things about me, why did you make me your best man?”

  “A moment of weakness.”

  I roll my eyes and hold up the box. “Here. Eat up.”

  He leans down and presses a kiss to my head. “Your hair looks nice…when you brush it.”

  “That’s an awful compliment!” I yell to his retreating back, throwing a coaster at him for good measure. “Swear I am going to kill him one day,” I mutter.

  “No you’re not. You love your brother even when he’s annoying,” my mother says, grabbing another cookie and following Jonas out of the room.

  Frankie grimaces my way. “I am really sorry about having to cancel the movie double date.”

  “It’s fine,” I say. “I’m not even mad about it. I just like giving him shit.”

  “He was really looking forward to getting to know your new man.” There are those flutters again. “He said something about needing to spend time with him to make sure he’s—”

  “Brother-approved?” I guess, and she nods. “Ugh.” I barely resist rolling my eyes. “Can you please tell him that’s outdated and I’m a grown-ass adult and can decide who I date without his input?”