Imperfect Love: Operation: Girl Next Door (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Casey Hagen

  “And if I’m serious?”

  She pushed him away and grabbed her lemonade, sucking down the half full glass. “You’re not, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “Piper—”

  “Hey, Trevor. Davidson wants you to fire up the grill,” Mike said from the doorway.

  Trevor glanced to Mike, giving Piper a second to take a breath. A lust fueled breath.

  “Sure, I’ll take care of it.”

  “I’m going to go see if they need any help,” Piper said.

  “I won’t forget where we left off.”

  “Of course not,” she said, ducking inside. She’d rather chance sharing space with Rachel where she knew what to expect than Trevor throwing heart wrenching lobs at her that had her wishing for a man she knew for a fact she couldn’t have.

  He’d proven how utterly forgettable she was before. She didn’t need a second dent in her heart.

  ***

  They dined and settled into the living room when Davidson declared it was time for the Newlywed Game.

  Trevor had been dreading this from the minute he heard about it. They were going to be asked questions, questions about real events and in this case, there was absolutely no way for them to prepare so they could have the right answers.

  This might well be where his hopes of a partnership died for good.

  Piper sat in an easy chair, her feet tucked up under her, a glass of wine in her hands, chatting away with Deanne and Kent. He didn’t focus on the words, they didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way she lit up with interest in everything they had to say. She cared about people. She didn’t make conversations about her. She knew how to mingle with just about everyone. Despite Rachel’s jibes, she had even managed small talk with her while they set the table.

  She fit.

  But did he? How successful could he be tied down to one woman?

  “Okay, folks. I’m going to ask the ladies to head out to the deck for a few minutes while I ask the men their five-point questions.”

  Trevor downed what was left of his beer, cracked open another, and took a hefty swallow of that as well.

  Mike caught his eye, his head tilted to the side.

  Don’t ask, guy. You’ll find out soon enough.

  Davidson handed them all a note card and Sharpies.

  “Alright, guys, my wife took into consideration that some of you aren’t married so she stuck to questions you could all answer. First question: Where did you go on your first date?”

  Trevor took a deep breath. Okay, he could do this. Piper would have to say prom, right? Really, that was their only date so it seemed like it would be the safe answer. Rachel might zero in on it, but it’s not like he or Piper had ever discussed where they first met, so it was okay that they’ve actually known each other for years.

  He smiled, sat back in his chair feeling a whole lot better, and jotted down his answer: Piper’s Prom. They had this.

  “Next question: What was your first impression of your partner?”

  Uh oh.

  Okay, his first impression of Piper…she had brains and talent…plus one hell of a smart mouth.

  This one might be okay, too. After all, it’s a subjective thing. Nothing too harmful if their answers don’t match.

  “Question three: What is your partner’s favorite ice cream?”

  Shit.

  He should know that. Women loved ice cream. It wasn’t his thing, but wasn’t that their go-to food every time they suffered heartbreak? At least it was according to the movies.

  The thought of Piper soothing herself with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s flashed in his head. He frowned.

  “Did you write down your answer, Trevor?” Davidson asked.

  “Sorry, got lost in thought.”

  Okay, women love chocolate so it had to be chocolate ice cream. Sweat broke out on his back. He could not live with himself if his career swirled right down the toilet over chocolate ice cream.

  Christ, this sucked.

  He wrote his answer and nodded at Davidson to continue.

  “Question four: What’s your idea of the perfect weekend?”

  Oh God. He might have actually registered the blood draining from his face. The answers no longer had anything to do with him, but more of what he thought Piper would say. He didn’t know shit about what Piper would say.

  Why? Because he was a giant asshole who gave her a made-up history, which meant he had no clue if she would continue to manufacture stories or default to real life. Even if she stuck with real life, how the hell would she have any idea of what his perfect weekend was?

  Dammit, he didn’t even know anymore. It used to be parties, beautiful women, and booze.

  Now, anything involving Piper, even if it was a Saturday night in, curled up on the couch, watching some chick flick sounded better than the partying and loose women.

  Ummm, would the real Trevor please stand up? Whoever that man was. And what was he going to do with himself when this was over? He didn’t fit in his old life, he didn’t have a new life.

  After all the sheer panic, he’d probably have a heart condition.

  Well, that was good. All those trips to the cardiologist would occupy his time.

  Get a grip, asshole.

  How nice of Davidson to give them extra time on this one so he could commence the nervous breakdown he so rightfully deserved.

  Focus. The perfect weekend…

  A getaway in a private inn tucked into the country with a king-sized, soft bed, and no cell phones.

  Shit, that might actually work. If it didn’t, the fact that he’d described something romantic would win over the women. They would forget about their disastrous beginning.

  Breathe, just fucking breathe, man.

  “Okay, men, one more question. Call it a little bonus round.” He scanned the paper. “What did you get your partner for your first Christmas together?”

  This would be a big one. Motherfucker, they were going to mangle the shit out of this whole deal with the way they were trying to dial up a history as if this was Wheel of Fortune and they depended upon the luck of the spin.

  He looked down at his beer. His second beer. If he hurried maybe he could consume a couple more and feign inebriation.

  Except Rachel would call bullshit. She’d seen him pound a fifth of Jack Daniels and then use the side rail of a yacht as a balance beam.

  Because for a time, he’d been the king of all show-offs.

  “Time’s up!”

  Yup, times up. Death awaited him. His career teetered on the edge of the Empire State Building just waiting for a canary to disturb his balance by breaking wind, sending him plummeting over the edge to his death. What they scraped off of East 34th street could be packed in a Sucrets box.

  God, he’d become a dramatic bitch.

  He looked down at what he had jotted on the card.

  Music box.

  Ahh, yes, just call him Trevor “King of Dumbasses” Myers.

  She was a fucking dancer. Now that he’d sealed his fate with the hasty scrawl of a Sharpie, he could think of at least three things to get a dancer: ballet tickets, any kind of ballerina jewelry, a dance scene depicted in watercolor or acrylic, ballet slipper Christmas ornament, you know, since it was motherfucking Christmas and all.

  Christ, was it hot in here.

  Davidson called the ladies back in. Piper dropped into the seat next to him. She smiled.

  He tried to smile back, but judging by the odd look she gave him, he resembled a man trying to smile through poop cramps.

  “Okay, ladies, we asked the men…” Davidson continued.

  Trevor reached for Piper’s hand and wrapped it in his. He focused on the feel of her soft skin against his as Davidson went through all the couples and finally arrived at them.

  “Piper, you’re up. Where did you go on your first date?”

  She looked at him and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. “To the movies?” she said.

  “You don’t kno
w for sure?” Rachel asked. The sip of wine she took hid the smirk on her face.

  “Well, Trevor, what was your answer?”

  None of your goddamned business man. How’s that for an answer?

  Knowing he was only delaying the inevitable, he flipped his card. “Piper’s prom.”

  Davidson gave him a puzzled look and then glanced between them. A flush rose up on Piper’s cheeks.

  “Okay, then,” Davidson said.

  Yeah, that about summed it up. He picked the one date that they actually had gone on and there was not a single reason on the planet that Trevor could think of to explain why Piper wouldn’t remember that Trevor took her to her very own PROM!

  Did he scream that?

  He scanned the room. It looked like he hadn’t, but several people seemed to be onto his bullshit. Kent, Mike, and Steve gave him pitying looks. He hadn’t ever seen that fierce a grin on Rachel’s face before. Christina and Deanne both sat with their mouths slightly open, glancing between Trevor and Piper.

  “I guess later on, Piper and I will have a bit of a talk about what qualifies as a date,” Trevor said lamely.

  Yeah, we’re imposters.

  Next question addressed what they had first thought of their partner. At least that was more of an exploratory question than a “Your ass is on the line” question.

  Of course, the question also had the capability to stir up trouble, but after screwing the pooch on the first, did it really matter anymore? He couldn’t keep his ass in a boat long enough to finish a race and now this.

  Davidson asked Deanne to which she replied, “He thought I was already taken.”

  Kent flipped his card: She was a snob.

  Uh oh.

  Deanne pinched his arm.

  “You’re up again, Piper,” Davidson said. “What was Trevor’s first impression of you?”

  This time she didn’t look at him. “That I was a smart ass.”

  Trevor flipped his card: She had brains, talent, and a smart mouth.

  “I’d say that’s close enough. Nice job!” Davidson said.

  Trevor chugged what was left of his beer.

  Yeah, thanks, Davidson, for throwing me a pity bone. Not that it will get me the job or anything.

  He leapt up. “I need another beer.” And headed for the kitchen to grab one.

  When he got back, they did the ice cream round. He’d gotten her favorite ice cream right, whoopdie shit. Chocolate wasn’t exactly rocket science.

  No longer excited about this last question, or how romantic it made him look, he maintained an every-seven-second draw from his beer.

  “And Piper, what is Trevor’s idea of the perfect weekend?”

  “A weekend getaway with a big bed?”

  Well, she kind of got it, but did it really matter at this point?

  Nope.

  He downed the last of his beer and flipped his card. “Country Inn, king-sized bed, no cell phones.”

  Davidson gave him a narrow-eyed stare.

  Trevor figured Davidson didn’t like his tone.

  “I need to grab some air. If you’ll excuse me,” Trevor said and headed for the front door.

  Chapter 8

  Piper gave Trevor a few minutes to cool off. She contemplated trying to smooth over the events of the game, but considering the looks shot her way, especially from Rachel, she opted to keep her mouth shut.

  She thought she could explain the prom thing. She could say they weren’t an item then, so she didn’t really consider it their first date. A weak attempt at best, and maybe they would let it slide, unless Rachel decided to ask a bunch of questions that Piper was unprepared to answer.

  Everyone milled about the kitchen, cleaning up what was left of their drinks. Mike and Christina whispered to one another and then said goodnight to the group. Deanne followed Kent onto the deck with a lame attempt at a smile. Rachel swirled her wine in her hand and leveled a shrewd stare at Piper.

  No one addressed Piper directly, whether that was because they had suspicions, or because of Trevor’s awkward exit, she had no idea.

  “I’m going to go find Trevor,” Piper said.

  She headed out the front door and scanned the immediate area. The moon illuminated the night with a white glow, and what the moon couldn’t do, the intricate placement of the outdoor lighting managed to. She checked the wide front porch in case he decided to sit in dark silence, but saw no sign of him.

  She didn’t know if the game had really done damage, and even if it did, it was too late to do anything about it now. At least, if nothing else, they could breathe a sigh of relief that it was over.

  She sure as hell had no intention of playing any version of the Newlywed Game again. Ever.

  Without a flashlight, she didn’t dare venture to the few trails that wound through the woods and away from the house. Instead, she headed down the stone walkway, lit up by the warm glow of solar lights lining the edges of the rocks. The serene quiet of the night settled over her, soothing the worry in her gut. The air hadn’t dropped in temperature that night as it had the night before.

  The sound of the lake water gently lapping the shore reminded her of those late summer nights her brother and his friends went off swimming, always leaving her behind no matter how much she begged. One time she had even offered to clean her brother’s room for the next year if he would take her along.

  She never did manage to find his price.

  But she followed him one night.

  Because without a doubt, Trevor would be there with him.

  Piper popped out from behind the last of the low hanging trees and searched the dock and water. Trevor’s clothes, or what she assumed were his clothes, lay in a pile at the end of the dock near the ladder.

  Searching the water, she found him swimming in a steady pace parallel to the shore. Careful to stay as quiet as can be, she took measured steps and eased herself onto the dock and dropped down to sit next to Trevor’s discarded clothes.

  His long, muscled arms arced out of the water with clean, consistent strokes. His head broke the surface for air with every extension of his left arm. She had seen him do this before and watching the beauty, the timing, and strength emanating from him never failed to set her nerve endings on fire.

  He flipped down under the water, popped up, and headed the other direction. He may have been a football player to his core, but clearly, when he set his mind to learn something, he put his all into it.

  She admired his dedication, she just wished he’d found a way to find success without sacrificing the man he had been. The cost had been far too high.

  He glided to a stop and shook his head free of the water. She didn’t make a sound, but he found her sitting there anyway, admiring him.

  “Spying on me?” he called as he sluiced his hands through the water in her direction.

  “Checking on you.”

  “And I’m still breathing. I guess you’re work here is done,” he said, his mouth tightened.

  She bit back the words she burned to say. About how this was all his fault. Had he not compromised who he was as a man to become this money-making machine at the expense of everything, including his soul, he wouldn’t be in this mess. The man treading water in the lake wouldn’t hear those words.

  The sheer frustration and anger coursing through him surrounded them, pacing like a jaguar waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

  And if they were going down in flames, if this whole ruse wasn’t going to work in his favor, she wanted to tap into that energy of his now, and turn it into passion and heat. She wanted to draw out that desire until neither one of them had a choice, but to let it consume them. Their time was now, even if only for a night.

  “I’m not the enemy, Trevor.”

  His shoulders relaxed a fraction with the words. “No, not the enemy. I’m not sure what the hell you are.”

  Liar.

  He felt it just as she did. That pull demanded recognition. He faced life, balls-to-the-wall, she
would settle for no less when it came to this.

  She unfolded her legs and dangled them in the water. With her palms resting on the cool wood of the dock, she kicked her feet back and forth in a smooth rhythm. “You know, I’ve seen you skinny-dipping before. I used to watch you when you’d all get together and leave me behind. There was this boulder tucked into the trees and I’d sit there for hours just to watch you.” The confession slid from her lungs before she had a chance to really think about what her admission revealed.

  Just by the way he watched her, she could tell Trevor’s sharp mind didn’t miss a word. His eyes narrowed, but not in anger. Nope. She’d seen that look before. Well, not necessarily aimed at her, she didn’t get that close to men. Trevor’s swoon-worthy eye caress, until that moment, had been reserved for heroines in the movies.

  He reached out and wrapped his strong fingers around her ankle and pulled himself up to her. When he got there, he did the same to her other ankle, holding himself there, holding her there, binding them. “Why, Piper? Why did you spend so much time watching me?”

  Her gaze fell away from his and roamed over his wet, solid shoulders and down his arms to where his hands started their slide up her calves to the sensitive area tucked behind her knees.

  “Because you saw the real me, and you liked me anyway,” she whispered.

  “Piper—”

  “Don’t say anything. Don’t ruin it. Not tonight.” She pushed up to her feet and peeled her t-shirt over her head.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Swimming.” She dragged her shorts down her legs and tossed them with her shirt on his pile of clothes.

  She reached behind her back to unhook her bra. “And here you were worried about the bathing suit I originally packed.”

  The bra joined the pile. The sight of their clothes piled up together touched her somewhere she had kept locked away. It didn’t take a shrink to tell her the reason she had held men at arm’s length had everything to do with the fact that she had never given up on the idea that one day she might have a shot with Trevor.