by Lindsey Hart
“That makes two of us. I’ve been so worried about this reunion I haven’t been sleeping much.”
“Why?” Trace leaned back and took a sip of his drink. He didn’t want to be up in her face. When Ash hesitated, he knew he had to fill her in. “Newsflash, you’re beautiful. Incredible actually. I have no idea why you think you couldn’t face those douchebags and drama queens. That’s all they were. Pieces of shit wrapped up in nice exterior packages. You’d blow them all away. With or without my help.”
Ash blinked hard. She actually looked over her shoulder like he might have been talking to someone else. His stomach clenched. God, he wanted to rip her out of her chair, throw her up on that table, part those glorious legs of hers she had hidden away under those jeans and fuck her on the table. Even with everyone watching. He wanted her to feel him inside of her, fucking her senseless. He wanted her to see how quickly he could come undone and that she’d be the one to do that to him. To drive him out of his goddamn mind.
Of course, that was out of the question. The café was more of a G-rated zone, there were kids and all, so Trace kept his shit together. Barely. His balls didn’t agree, and his cock certainly wasn’t on board with the more rational part of his brain.
“I- well- they were so mean growing up.” Ash swallowed audibly. Her big green eyes flooded with tears, which hit him right in the gut. God, he wanted to kick his own ass at the moment for making light of her fears. He knew that once someone was wounded, it sat at the heart of a person and no amount of money or fame or things could banish it.
“I know,” he nodded in agreement and sympathy. “My family was pretty poor growing up. I didn’t have nice things or new clothes and it showed. Kids liked to pick on me about it. Because, you know, like being poor is something a kid that age can really help.” He tried and failed, to keep the bitterness out of his tone. “It made me tough though. I got in fights all the time. I was shit in school. Never paid attention and was probably in the principal’s office more times than I was out. When I was older, I got a job. It was just delivering papers, but it helped out. After that, I did the whole restaurant thing for years. It wasn’t much, but I was able to help my mom out. She was a single mom. Worked herself nearly to death to make ends meet for me and my sister. I made sure that we always had clothes and shoes without holes, even if they were second hand. Anyone who bugged me after that or dared to make fun of my sister got an ass-kicking. I was probably about sixteen when I grew and filled out enough to be scary. No one said shit after that point.”
Ash smiled softly. She clutched her cup close to her heart, probably without even being aware that she’d done it. “Yeah, it was a little different for me. The picking-on thing didn’t get bad until I was eleven. I just didn’t fit in. I wasn’t pretty. I wasn’t ugly. I was just average. And then came the braces and the glasses and the pimples. I was so awkward. I was tall, but I-uh had these breasts that I didn’t know what to do with. Everyone made fun of me in gym class. The way I ran, the way I walked. I was smart and good at school, so they made fun of me for that too. I had a few good friends, but they were bullied just as much as I was. We stuck together. It was stupid because my brother was the popular one. It was okay for him to like comics and shit because he was a guy, I guess. He was also good looking. He never beat anyone up for me though.”
Trace’s mouth dropped open. “Okay. First of all, I need to stop you there. I think that any girl who was ever mean to you was probably so fucking jealous.”
“Jealous?” Ash appeared genuinely mystified.
“I mean, look at you.” He waved a hand in the air. “You’re incredible. I’m willing to bet that even with braces and glasses and pimples, you were beautiful. And if guys were making fun of you, that’s what guys do to a girl they want to- well- I would say bang, but that’s not classy. Date isn’t the right word either. Maybe- fool around with. They were stupid back then because they couldn’t help themselves. They’d probably be stupid now.”
“I know girls can be catty, but that’s not the reason. I was good at drawing. I used to- well you asked me if I liked writing and I used to make up my own comics. I’d write the stories and draw the characters. I kept my sketchbook to myself, but one day Sonja fucking Wills got a hold of it and showed everyone.”
“What? You made your own comics? That’s fucking badass!” Trace enjoyed Ash’s shock. He leaned forward and gripped the edge of the table. “Come on! It’s pretty clear to me that every single person who was ever mean to you was so jealous they had to be a little shit about it.”
Ash rolled her eyes. “You have no idea. No one ever asked me out. No one took me to prom. There was this guy I had a crush on. Jesse Peterson. He was gorgeous. I mean- uh- thought so at the time.” She was blushing again, and it was absolutely adorable. When her expression changed and became horribly sad, Trace fought the urge to find Jesse Peterson and squeeze the life out of him. “Uh- I asked him to prom. It was stupid. It took me half a year to work up the courage. He laughed in my face. And then he let the whole school know about it. I didn’t even go to prom. I told everyone I wasn’t going to go to my grad. I didn’t. I was so humiliated.”
Trace actually smacked his hand down on the table so hard that Ash jumped. “Sorry.” He acted on instinct and covered her hand, which had fluttered downwards, with his. There was no wild spark that leaped up his arm, but her hand was soft and warm, and he imagined it doing crazy things to him and that got his heart pumping. His pulse spiked and suddenly it was overly warm in the place.
“Uh- it’s okay,” Ash said.
“No. No, it’s not. I didn’t mean to get angry- actually, yes I did. I want to kick that piece of shit’s ass. He didn’t deserve to go to prom with you. You deserved to have an amazing date, a great time. You deserved to have a blast, the whole pretty dress and corsage experience.”
“Would that include the drunken after-party experience as well?”
“It sure as hell should have. Even I had that, and I didn’t even deserve to graduate, since I skipped school all the time, fought like a banshee and flipped off more than one teacher.”
“You flipped off your teachers?” Ash’s eyes were round as saucers, but she giggled like a little kid. She laughed so hard, but kind of silently so that it wasn’t obvious, that her nostrils flared. Even that was beautiful.
“Yup. The bastards had it coming.” Trace slowly withdrew his hand and Ash stared at her fingers as though something magical just happened. Like suddenly there were fifteen of them instead of just five.
“I have one more thing to confess,” she said quietly. She tugged her hand back into her lap. She studied it and refused to meet his gaze.
“What’s that?” Please don’t tell me you’re secretly a dude. Please, please, please…
“So- I work at this tiny comic book shop. I told you that, I think.”
“Yes.”
“Well- it’s not nearly enough to make ends meet. So, I- well, you said I should be a writer earlier. I guess I have to confess that maybe I am. And maybe my classmates know it too. I actually write paranormal romance. Where the bad guys win, more often than not. Actually, no it’s more like the bad guys discover that they have some good in them and that they can be redeemed and are lovable. They’re complex, like every villain. They’ve been through all this heartbreak, had some terrible past and that broke them. The heroine comes and puts them back together. Anyway, I may have made the mistake of writing them under my own name when I started. I- I thought nothing would come of it. I just decided, on a whim, to publish a book to this free site and then it took off and I kind of started selling lots of them. Like lots of copies of lots of books. I’ve published over forty in five years and uh- okay. So, this is the real reason I need you to come with me. My hometown knows that I’m a successful romance author. It’s going to be completely humiliating to show up single.”
Okay, so that was news. Not only was Ash smoking hot and clearly confident enough when it didn’t come to thoug
hts of her reunion, or the mother she mentioned, she was successful in her own right.
Damn. His balls just pulled so far up they were in his throat.
“I don’t get it,” Trace admitted. “What’s wrong with showing up single as a confident, sexy, woman who was her shit together?”
“Because!” Ash leaned forward, her sparkling emerald eyes pleading with him to understand. “I’m a successful romance writer. I have won the hearts of millions of readers, but I haven’t been able to give mine away. I’m a romance writer who has never fallen in love. My characters confront their demons and overcome their fears, but I can’t do that in my own life. Do you understand now…”
Trace frowned. “Would it be bad to admit that I didn’t? I mean, you’re young, sexy, confident, and successful. What’s wrong with being a single, empowered woman and being happy with that?”
Ash’s lips trembled as she made a valiant effort not to cry again, but she lost. A single tear traced its way down her cheek when she blinked. He wanted to lean in and kiss it away before he devoured her lips and battled her sorrow for her, but again, he forced his ass to remain in that seat.
“I’m- I’m scared they’re going to tear me apart. That they’re going to see right through me. It’s easy for me now, to be who I am here with you when it’s safe. I’m not going to be able to do it when I’m back there, transformed into a girl no one would go to prom with. I- I just can’t do it.”
Ash looked up at him and his heart stopped. He suddenly realized what she meant. It was easy for him too, to sit there as the man he was, with power and wealth at his disposal- well… no. He was actually pretending, with his beard and longer hair and his online profile, to be someone else. To hide from that man as well. He wasn’t afraid of it though, he just needed a damn break. That was different.
He totally understood what Ash was talking about. The thought of going back to being that little kid with the tattered clothes and shoes filled with holes and mustard sandwiches scared the hell out of him. He’d fought so hard, all his life, to not be that kid.
He swallowed hard and forced what he hoped was a dazzling smile. It must have been because Ash responded instantly. She wiped away her tears and sat up a little straighter. Her watery smile echoed his. They were both there, both lost, in a way. Both trying to find something in each other.
Fake boyfriend or not, the underlying sentiment was anything but.
“It’s okay.” He set his hand face up on the table and after a moment’s hesitation, Ash slowly entwined her fingers with his. He’d be a liar if he said that his cock wasn’t affected by her touch, and he’d sure as hell be a liar if he said there wasn’t an uncomfortable squeeze going on in his rib cage. “I get it. I’m not going to let them sink your beautiful ship. No way. We’re going to show up to that damn reunion, guns blazing. It’s them who are going straight to the bottom of the ocean if they think they can take us on and win.” He shot her his best panty-dropping smile before he remembered he didn’t have to charm her. She’d come to him. Out of all the men out there, she’d picked him.
“Alright.” She left her hand in his and slowly her smile grew more confident until her eyes shone again. He vowed then and there that he’d damn well make sure that no one ever, ever robbed that sparkle from Ash again. “Uh- but can I please introduce you as Mr. Nightshadow, at least to my mother?”
“Not a chance,” he laughed. “But you can let me take you out tomorrow night for dinner so that we can get to know each other. I think we have a few things we need to get nailed down before the weekend.”
There was that trace of hesitation again, and surprise that he hated to see, as though she couldn’t really believe he was real and that what they were doing was real- neither could he, but for a whole different set of reasons.
“Yeah,” she finally agreed in the softest, most feminine voice possible. It did all kinds of inappropriate things to his nether region. “Dinner tomorrow. I’m free at six.”
“Make it seven and I’ll come pick you up.”
“Okay.” She withdrew her hand from his and stood slowly.
He watched her walk out of the coffee shop, hips swaying gently with her stride. He was right. She did have a great ass. A phenomenal ass.
He had his work cut out for him, but he couldn’t remember the last time the prospect had ever seemed so fun.
The hesitant, unconfident, shy, doubtful Ash was going to be long gone by the time the weekend rolled around. He’d do his best to show her that she was indeed sexy in every way possible. That she was beautiful, all woman, smart as hell, brave, successful, and that she could indeed kick some serious ex-classmate ass.
CHAPTER 7
Ash
Somehow over the course of thirty-six hours, her life had done a completely one-eighty.
At seven on a Monday night, she was usually already in her pajamas, cuddled up with her laptop, Slappy snoozing either on her legs or off to the side, a cup of tea, maybe even a sappy movie on in the background, creating some killer romance for her characters. Sometimes literally. The paranormal genre was exciting to write in. There were all sorts of murder and mayhem.
God, it’s official. I’m a total dork.
That was until Mr. Nightshadow happened into her life. One message later and BAM! Like literally, speech bubble, comic style, BAM, huge red and yellow letters and all, she was sitting in the booth at the back of a fancy restaurant with a guy who was walking, breathing, living, sex.
And he was her boyfriend for the next week.
She’d never wished she had the power to stop time more than she did at the moment. Or maybe it was somehow possible that she could have a time machine invented in the near future so that she could relive what was sure to be the best week of her life over and over and over again.
“Do you know what you’re going to have yet?”
Ash set down her menu, flustered. She hadn’t read a single thing. She knew she was blushing. She’d put on makeup for her date, picked out a nice little black dress- yes she actually owned one- out of her closet, and worn sensible flats so she didn’t tumble down the stairs of her apartment on her way to her first real, well, kind of real, date in over a year. She didn’t often wear makeup, but she hoped that the foundation and blush went a little way to hide her tendency to turn completely red, compliments of having fair skin and light hair.
“Uh- what’s good. I mean, you said this place was good. You’ve probably been here before. Do you have anything that you’d recommend?”
“Chicken. Or ham. Unicorn poop?”
“What?” She slapped the menu down.
“Just checking to see if you were actually paying attention. I know you didn’t read a word on this menu.” Trace’s mouth curled into a confident, sly smile. Which of course was absolutely sinful. And yes, she’d worn panties under her dress. And yes, they were currently on their way to combusting. And yes, her hoo-ha might be trying hard to put out that fire.
“Well- honestly, it’s hard to concentrate with you sitting there watching me the whole time,” she admitted. God, it was another one of her failings. Her tendency to be completely blunt and say whatever was on her mind.
Trace laughed. She liked the deep, sexy sound of it. Her entire body liked it. She had to pretend that her nipples didn’t just pebble at the sound of it. Or maybe that was because Trace’s wonderful scent kept drifting across the table to her. Or maybe it was because he’d worn a black dress shirt with black jeans and damn, black was definitely the man’s color.
Maybe it was because she still thought of him as Mr. Nightshadow. Sex incarnate. Okay, she’d tacked that last part on when he’d picked her up in a sleek black sports car looking and smelling like… well- sex come to life.
“Good. I like that. I like that you’re distracted. If we’re attracted to each other, that means we won’t have to act.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward, and her panties melted off under the table. “I promise by the end of this week, we won’t be acting
at all.”
“What- what do you mean,” she panted. “I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“I mean, you wanted a boyfriend for the week, you got one.”
“I wanted a fake boyfriend for my reunion.”
Trace shook his head, all sexy confidence, and quick charm. And god, it was working, because she was melting slowly in her chair until all that would be left was a puddle of her former self. How dignified.
“Well, you got me. And to sell those asshats that you’re worried about, we have to be on the same page, and I don’t think fake is going to cut it. Plus, I have this sneaking suspicion that you have no idea how beautiful and incredible you really are.”
“And you plan on what? Showing me?” Ash’s mouth dropped open.
Trace nodded slowly and then he smiled that wicked smile. She nearly let out a groan of sheer pent up sexual frustration when she realized that he had a dimple on his right cheek. Fuuuuccckkkkk me.
That was what he was suggesting, she realized. She’d seen other men look at other women that way. Like they were imagining them naked. She’d just never really had a man look at her that way. Then again, she had spent the past ten years of her life working at a comic book store, where the men who came in there were more excited about the newest comics and board games than they were about the girl who worked there.
Not that she blamed them one bit.
She was absolutely the same way.
“I- so you really- uh- shouldn’t we have some ground rules? Isn’t that inappropriate?”
“What? Having a mutually beneficial physical relationship where both parties give and receive pleasure? I don’t see how it’s at all wrong. We’re both adults. We both know what we want.”
“Uh- do we?”
“We both have a common goal in mind.” Trace continued like he hadn’t even heard her. “My goal is for you to walk into that reunion and for the whole place to see you as I do. Including yourself. I think you need a little… convincing. And what’s the problem with us having a little fun so that we don’t have to act? If the whole thing falls flat at the reunion and it’s obvious that it’s fake, that’s not going to do you any good. It’s going to make things a whole lot worse.”
