by Maria Luis
Just as he lifted a hand to his ball cap, Lizzie glanced over her shoulder at him, looking happier than she had in the weeks that he’d known her, and winked at him.
This whole keep-it-casual thing would be a lot easier if he got her in his bed and out of his system.
Maybe then he could stop thinking about all the ways he’d like to be the reason for her happy glow.
17
The pizza place down in New Orleans’s Bywater neighborhood was packed.
Like sardines stuck in a can, Lizzie and the others shuffled through the front door. Over Anna’s blonde head, she saw Julian tap Luke on the shoulder and point to a section of the restaurant near the back. Luke, in turn, motioned for the rest of them to follow with a flick of his wrist, army-style.
And, just like the good soldiers they all weren’t, they followed single-file until they’d reached home base and dropped onto the wooden benches, claiming the territory as theirs.
Lizzie sucked in a breath when Gage took the seat beside her, his legs straddling the bench and his left palm on her lower back. It felt natural, too natural, for him to be so close.
Did that stop her from leaning into his touch, twisting just so, so that her butt was nearly cradled against the V of his thighs? Nope, totally didn’t.
Maybe their conversation from the other day at his house had opened him up? Made him reconsider his unvoiced ban on relationships?
Or maybe he just wants to get in your pants.
Well, there was that, too.
But as of today, as of this moment, Gage Harvey had absolutely no ties to her. She’d announced her break from ThatMakeupGirl and, in doing so, had officially ended #badboyirredemption, for better or for worse. Which meant that if he showed any interest at all in her . . . it had to be real, right?
She felt his warm breath on her ear just before she heard the deep rumble of his voice. “Congratulations, princess. You did what you said you’d do.”
Lizzie fought the urge to lean back against him, to soak up all his masculinity and curl against his chest. Turning her head slightly, her lips brushed the prickly stubble of his cheek. “In other words,” she murmured, “I owned my shit.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners as he gave a short laugh. “That you did. How’s it feel?”
“Good.” She set her elbow on the table, inches from where his forearm rested. “Freeing. I mean, it will be freeing once the DM’s all stop.”
“The DM’s?”
“Yeah, the direct messages? I always upload condensed versions of my videos on YouTube onto Instagram, which maybe I should reconsider for the future. Instagram folks are a bit more out of hand when they slide into your inbox.”
There was a small pause, in which Gage told Luke he’d be down for whatever type of pizza, and Lizzie did the same, before he said, “Let me see them.”
“The messages?”
“Yeah.”
He was a brave man to even suggest it. She unzipped her purse on the table and pulled out her phone. “Are you sure about this?” she asked, unlocking the screen and tapping open the pink Instagram app. “If your sensibilities got all riled up because of Naked You, you’re likely to want to confess after this.”
“I think my sensibilities will be just fine, Miz Danvers.”
Giggling at his defensive tone, Lizzie only shook her head and tap-tapped her inbox. Half the time, she never even looked through her messages. Sure, there were a select few people who were diehard fans and who loved her, but the majority of those who DM’ed her were straight internet trolls. They wanted to make her cringe, cry, or shift uncomfortably. Sometimes, they managed to succeed in doing all three. Sometimes, Lizzie managed to find humor in the situation. Mostly, she just wished that they’d leave her alone.
She flicked open the first one. “All right, you wanted to read them. Here they are.” Lizzie slid the phone to her right. “Prepare to wonder what’s wrong with humanity.”
His dark brows drew together. “You think I don’t wonder that every day with my job?” He gave a mock-shiver, his left hand still pressed to her back, but then he moved.
Inward.
Against her.
And, oh jeez, but it brought back the sensations of him dancing behind her at the nightclub.
In a way, this was almost more seductive. More intriguing.
Here they sat in a public restaurant, the overhead lights glaring and yellow; Anna, Luke, and Julian sat just to her left, laughing at some story Julian told, his hands emphasizing his words with physical punctuation in the air.
“Let’s see what we have here . . .”
A turned-on Lizzie Danvers, that’s what they had here.
She almost whipped around and told Gage just that, but she bit her tongue and relaxed her shoulders and reminded herself that she was changing her ways. New hair. New career. New lifestyle.
Casual.
She’d ended her last YouTube video with a new life motto: live everyday like it was her last. Enjoy life, and worry less about what people thought of her.
It started here, right now.
Lizzie dropped her hand to Gage’s thigh, delighting in the way the muscle beneath her palm twitched. She moved her hand up an inch, closer to the goods, and squeezed. Just once.
Once was all she needed—his hand latched around her wrist and skimmed it down to his knee, a safe place. Then, in a voice pitched from gravel, “If you keep doing that, I’ll take you right here on the table, princess.”
Her toes curled in her tennis shoes. “Before or after the pizza arrives?”
Rumbling laughter reverberated in his chest, and she felt the scrape of his stubble against her cheek. “I’m not even going to answer that.”
“Scared?” she taunted softly, her eyes locked on their intertwined fingers on his knee.
“Never.” He squeezed her fingers, just once, like she’d done to his thigh, and then released her. “All right, I’m ready to read some of these DM’s you speak of so highly.”
Lizzie snorted. “Prepare yourself.”
“Oh, I’m prepared, don’t you worry.”
His arrogance was endearing, mainly because he wiggled his dark brows before tapping her phone back to life. “Okay, let’s do this. Our first message up is from a . . . a . . . BigTeetz9090—”
Smirking over the way he stumbled over the username, Lizzie murmured, “I believe you meant to say big tits?”
He cocked his head. “It’s spelled with two E’s and a Z. Big teetz is right.”
“What’s the profile icon photo?”
Leaning in, his broad chest met her back and Lizzie stifled a whimper. “Looks like I’m staring at some big titties. Yellow bra. Definite nipplege.”
Nipplege? Lizzie drummed her fingers on the table, feigning nonchalance when all she wanted to do was laugh. “Okay, continue.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He didn’t shift away this time, and her back sank into his chest. It was the perfect fit. Utterly perfect. Not that it meant anything. She was living in the moment, enjoying this back-and-forth with a hot cop who just so happened to have stormed into her life and showed no signs of leaving anytime soon.
“This is interesting.” He cleared his throat like he was about to put on a performance. “So, BigTeetz9090 has said, and I quote, Lizzie Danvers, you are one shallow bitch—bitch is spelled with a Y, by the way—who has absolutely no tits. Watching you for the last ten years has been like stabbing myself in the eye with an icepick on repeat for half my life. It feels good, and I’ve certainly jerked one off to you a few times, but not gonna lie . . . I’m ready for you and your fake hair and your fake smile and your fake tits to get off the air. Deuces.”
Gage seemed to sit stunned next to her, his lips parted, his black eyes on her phone. Yeah, she’d felt that way, too, way back in the beginning.
Now, she only said, “In case you’re wondering, they’re real. Small, maybe, but real nonetheless.”
His chest moved against hers wi
th a deep inhale. “They’re perfect.”
Lizzie’s thighs squeezed together. “You’ve never seen them.”
“I’m makin’ a hypothetical guess that they’re fucking gorgeous based on the rest of you.”
Forcing a self-deprecating tone to her voice, she chucked him under the chin with her knuckle. “Romantic as always, Officer. Oh, look, the pizza’s here.”
Lizzie was all too aware of the fact that her breasts, unlike her butt, were smaller than average—hence, the padded bras she once wore religiously. But with age came acceptance, and if a man had a problem that she didn’t have the best rack on the block, that was on him and not on her.
Slices were stolen from the tin tray, though only Lizzie and Julian partook in any of the pineapple ones.
“What are y’all reading over there?” Julian asked, just before Anna playfully swatted her son on the shoulder.
“What did we say about asking people personal questions, Jules?”
“What?” His hands came up, one of which held the pizza in a triangular fold, the cheese dripping to his plate. “They’re canoodling, Ma. You noticed, I noticed, Luke noticed. I’m just wondering what’s so funny.”
Canoodling?
To her right, Gage echoed her after taking a drink of his soda. Louder, he said, “We’re reading some of the mean messages Lizzie’s received from people subscribed to her channel.”
Julian’s blond brows flew up, and he scooted down his side of the bench so he sat directly across from Lizzie and Gage. “This sounds amazing. I’m in.”
Oh no, absolutely not. Lizzie could handle Gage reading them—mostly—but a teenager? No way. Plus . . . “They’re not exactly kid appropriate.”
Luke didn’t help matters. He snagged another slice of pizza off the platter and pointed the tip at them. It drooped, and the former army sergeant turned to Anna with a wicked grin. “Wanna bite the tip?”
“I’ve heard through the grapevine that biting is no good.” At the table’s silence, Julian threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. “Y’all, I’m seventeen not seven. You don’t think kids in my grade don’t talk about blow jobs? With that said”—he wagged a finger at his mother and stepfather—“no talk like that at the table. Utterly disgraceful, you two.”
Anna let out a strangled laugh. “I wish you were seven.”
“I’m more fun now, Ma.” He turned to Gage with a c’mon gesture. “Pick one that won’t offend my mother. She’s sensitive.”
Lizzie truly hoped that one day she’d be around to see Julian Bryce O’Connor fall in love. Preferably when he was older. She couldn’t even imagine the type of woman he’d need to throw him off-kilter—teenager or not, he was always three steps faster.
Beside her, Gage shifted on the bench, drawing his left leg over the wood, so that he sat straight-on. Whether she wanted it to or not, her heart squeezed when he tossed Julian a conspiratorial wink and scrolled through her inbox for the perfect message to read aloud.
In that moment, Lizzie let her imagination take her to where it so desperately wanted to go. Namely, to her and Gage dating. If they had been, she would drape her hand on his back now, palming the muscles beneath his shirt that gave only her pleasure and no one else. If they had been, she would slip her hand to his inner thigh, squeezing but not letting go afterward. If they had been, she would press her lips to that spot on his arm where his T-shirt ended and his inked skin began.
But they weren’t dating—they weren’t anything—and so Lizzie only ate her pizza and listened as her bad boy (who wasn’t so bad after all) made an effort to include his coworker’s stepson into the conversation. It was endearingly sweet of him.
“Okay,” Gage announced in that rough, west Louisiana lilt of his, “I’ve got one.” He flicked his gaze up to Jules. “You ready for this?”
Julian tore a chunk off his crust and popped it into his mouth. “I was born ready, Harvey. Read it to me.”
Theatrically clearing his throat, Gage held up the phone like it was some sort of fancy scroll from ancient times. “This is from Time2Rock440. The number two is written in numerals, for anyone who was wondering.” He drew out the silence for effect, and then continued, “Dear ThatMakeupGirl, I have nothing to say to you except I’m glad you’re quitting. You’re the reason I got into makeup, and now I’m choosing to buy liquid lipstick over food. I can’t eat liquid lipstick, girl. Trust me, I’ve tried. So while this parting is super bittersweet, we’re all better off. And by ‘we,’ I’m totally talking about my wallet. I’ll be crying over in the corner until you come back, thanks.”
“Lizzie,” Julian said, “you should be ashamed of yourself.”
Getting into character, she bowed her head. “I know. How do I manage to wake up each day?”
Anna reached out and patted Lizzie on the shoulder. “It’s a tough life you live, Liz, a really tough life.”
Julian grabbed the last slice of pizza. “Can we do one more?”
Catching her nod, Gage shrugged and slid his thumb over the phone’s screen. “Sure, one more. Let me find a good one.”
While he searched, Lizzie finished off her pizza and tried to decipher her emotions, knowing that people were either angry or upset with her for leaving one of the most subscribed-to beauty channels on YouTube. She’d already read through some of the messages in her inbox, just after her video had gone live. Gage was doing a fine job of picking ones that weren’t too aggressive, as though knowing the really mean ones weren’t what she wanted to hear right now.
She wanted to ride on her high for as long as possible.
Push forward with Naked You, and actually come out to her friends that she ran a completely separate business. She suspected that Anna and her other friend, Shaelyn, knew something was up. Lizzie wasn’t the best at keeping a low profile. But for as long as she’d known them both, along with Jade, Lizzie had led a distinctly separate life.
She was tired of the ruse.
Tired of pretending that Naked You’s social media account wasn’t hers. There was mass speculation among magazines and the public that the account actually belonged to a woman out of Boston, someone by the name of Holly Carter, a professional hockey player’s wife.
Despite denying the rumors, the suspicion never died down. Holly Carter, wife of one Jackson Carter and owner to Boston’s top sports photography business, had unofficially become the creator of Naked You.
And that burned most of all.
Maybe it would have made a difference if she’d attached a photo to Lizabeth Vittoria’s bio on the Naked You website, instead of just a monogrammed logo. It didn’t help that, from what Lizzie had uncovered, Mrs. Carter was separated from her husband and bouncing back and forth between New Orleans and Boston.
It wasn’t quite a mess, and it would be squashed in an instant if Lizzie just came forward and revealed her identity—or if any of her clients spoke up for her.
“Found one,” Gage said, flashing her a slow grin, “and it’s good.” He commenced with his preparation, gathering their table’s attention like the total charmer he was. “From SkaterBoiBlades: My first ThatMakeupGirl tutorial was the one where you did up your face to portray different singers for each month of the year. Carrie Underwood was July, and let me tell you, July has become my favorite month ever since you posted that video a few years ago. Fun fact, I have a girl crush on her. Her legs are fantastic. Which reminds me, have you seen the Australian firefighter calendar? Super hot. X-rated. This has nothing to do with you; I just thought you might be having a shit day after everything, and maybe watching some hot Aussies get ready for a photoshoot would make you feel better. Link is below. I’ll miss you, Lizzie.”
“How is it possible that these messages can be both really creepy and oddly sweet, all at once?” Luke pushed his plate away. “And why do women lose their head over hot dude calendars? Between guys holding animals to—”
“It’s because of the tight butts.”
Luke’s brows drew together. “What
?”
Lizzie blushed, realizing too late that she’d spoken out loud. Too late to turn back now. Pushing her shoulders back, she said, “Most of the guys in those calendars . . . they’re really good looking. Women also don’t mind a guy in uniform.”
“And how do you feel about a guy in uniform?”
At Gage’s husky question, Lizzie met his gaze boldly. Refused to look away and appear shy. Lowered her voice to a purr. “It’s my favorite sight. Unless we’re talking about seeing a guy in nothing but his birthday suit.”
“Ugh,” Julian muttered with a bite of annoyance, “I don’t get why everyone’s always using ‘birthday suit’ as a euphemism for being naked. Let’s be real, if you had thousands of dollars to throw away, you wouldn’t be naked. You’d be dolled up, looking all pretty in a fancy suit, being awesome.”
Gage paid the teenager no mind. Instead, he didn’t look away from Lizzie, his black eyes centered on her face. “Would you ever host a calendar shoot like those Australian firefighters?”
Subtly, she checked out Anna and Luke to see if they’d caught wind of what Gage had asked. Didn’t he realize that they knew nothing about Naked You? “I don’t know,” she said from behind clenched teeth. “Maybe. Yes.” She shook her head. “We’re not talking about this right now.”
“It’s just a hypothetical question, princess, no need to get your knickers in a twist.”
Her knickers? Lizzie drained the rest of her soda. “Then, yes, if it’s an actual hypothetical question, I’d host a photography shoot and capture all the hotness of Australia’s first responders.”
Gage’s mouth hitched up in a smile she didn’t quite trust. “Good to know.”
Yeah, she thought as her gaze tracked his slight smile into a full-on, shit-eating grin, she didn’t trust him one bit. But something told her that whatever he had up his sleeve wouldn’t harm her. He was too considerate for that, too considerate in general, to try and pull one over on her.
It was just another thing to like about him.
At this rate, there wasn’t much she didn’t like about Gage, and that was the problem.
