by Jacob Chance
“Which one are you trying first?” Adam questions.
My eyes move over each delectable creation before I settle on a clear front runner. “Strawberry shortcake,” I say, dipping my spoon for a taste. “Oh my God. This is the one.”
“Screw that. You can’t choose until you’ve sampled them all. It’s an unspoken rule,” Adam informs me.
“Then why are you telling me?” I quip. “You get to eat the other three.”
His expression turning serious, he leans closer until only inches separate our faces. “I don’t want you to make a grave mistake.”
Like having sex with you?
There goes my obnoxious subconscious again.
“Is this where I’m supposed to thank you for keeping me from ruining my night?”
He nods slowly. “I’ll take a kiss as payment.”
“Come here,” I whisper, curling my index finger. Interest stirs in his emerald orbs as he leans forward. My palm on his chest stops him from coming closer. His hand cups my waist, trying to draw me nearer. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I whisper, “Close your eyes.” Dipping two fingers into the key lime pie, I scoop some up and slap it right on his kisser.
He yelps like a dog who’s had their paw stepped on. I back away with a pleased smile on my face.
“What the fuck?” Pie falls from his mouth to the table before he wipes his face with a napkin. “What did you do that for?”
A collective gasp followed by snickers erupts from the table.
My ear and shoulder meet in a half shrug. “You said you wanted a kiss, so I gave you one.”
“That’s not quite what I had in mind,” he drolls.
“Well, I’m not a mind reader.”
His tongue slowly licks his lips. “Not bad.” He grins crookedly. “I’ve definitely had worse kisses.”
“What did you do now, Adam?” Rex interrupts our interaction, and I realize everyone’s watching us with amused smiles on their faces.
“I made a joke,” he replies. “I guess it wasn’t as funny for Rocky as it was for me.”
“I like my joke better,” I boast.
“You know, you didn’t have to smash food in my face to touch my lips. Next time, you should come out and ask. I won’t say no.” He winks. Of course, he never says no. Which is why four Manfax reports have been requested about him.
“You must’ve deserved it,” Rex offers.
“Think of it as karma,” I say, and everyone laughs.
“Karma for what?” He places his hand on his chest. “I’m a bastion of morality.” Everyone at the table, including me, snorts. A look of hurt sweeps across Adam’s face. “What? I am.”
I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not. If he’s serious, then he’s also delusional. His moral compass hasn’t functioned in God knows how long.
Rex throws his napkin across the table at Adam and it hits his chest. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Adam’s lips part in a wide smile as he chucks it back at his older brother. His gaze swings my way, and I’m not sure what’s going through his mind. He’s probably plotting one hundred ways to exact revenge. I have a feeling he fights dirty and plays to win.
10
Adam
Rocky’s little prank has only solidified my determination to have her in my bed. There’s nothing more attractive to me than a woman with a sense of humor. I never expected her to sock me in the mouth with pie. Unpredictability is another quality I value in a woman, and all too often it’s lacking. Modern society has conditioned us to be on such rigid schedules. Too many people get caught up in the rat race and don’t take the time to play or be carefree. I myself am guilty of this too. It’s a constant battle to find the balance between work and play, and the former always seems to win out.
Roxanne showed me her playful side, and she didn’t back down afterward. She even went so far as to sass me by saying she wasn’t a mind reader. Most women I spend time with are too busy trying to impress me. They would never disagree with me or do something that could potentially displease me. I’m not being arrogant saying that, it happens to be a fact. And it’s not that I’m some great catch. I think women want a respectful man, and I happen to fall under that category. While I don’t necessarily want a long-term relationship, even my brief ones end on a good note.
Roxanne’s unrepentant pleasure when she pranked me was so sexy. It was all I could do to keep from crashing my lips to hers, pie and all. But I don’t want an audience for our first kiss, or any distractions. I have a feeling it’ll be the hottest first kiss I’ve ever experienced in my thirty-five years on this earth—twenty-five of which have been spent kissing a wide variety of females. All of varying ages and backgrounds.
Hey, I don’t discriminate. I’m an equal opportunity dater. I like all skin, eye, and hair colors.
Whenever someone asks me what my type is, I explain how there’s no reason to limit myself to one. I’ve always referred to myself as a connoisseur of fine women. I never tire of meeting them and trying them out, but I’ve also never met one that stood out head and shoulders above the others.
Until now.
Roxanne and I climb into the front of my truck with Rex, Danika, and Vi in the back. Poor Vi stuck in the rear seat with the two lovebirds.
“So, what did you think of The Gym?” I ask.
Roxanne giggles. “That might be the best name for a dessert bar ever. It definitely prevents a lot of judgement, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, Chrissy Marie, the owner, had a few other name options but The Gym was too good to pass up.”
“I ate my body weight in apple pie.” Dani groans. “I’m going to need to get to the actual gym. I can feel my ass expanding already.”
“I’ll help you work off the calories,” Rex suggests, and Dani sniggers.
“Everything was so good,” Roxanne chimes in, pretending my brother’s suggestive remarks were never uttered. “Adam, how did you like the key lime pie?” she questions with a teasing lilt.
“It was delicious. I did notice it hit my tastebuds a little harder than usual, though.”
Rocky reaches over, patting my arm briefly, surprising me. “You were a great sport about that. Some guys might’ve gotten pissed off.”
“Nah. What’s a little pie between new friends.”
“Friends?” She sighs. “I guess after what I put you through you may have earned that title.”
“Aww, look at you two getting along,” Dani jumps in.
“I knew I’d win you over,” I say, and Roxanne harrumphs. I sweep my eyes to her and then back to the road, ignoring the stirring down yonder. All it takes is a quick glance at her to affect my body.
Roxanne is unrivaled in beauty. If I could punch in a few buttons and order up the perfect physical specimen, she would be my ultimate choice. Long, thick, dark hair that swirls around her shoulders, full lips, and curves that won’t quit. Oddly enough, I find her dislike for me only draws me in more, and it’s not because she’s a challenge. Okay, it might be a little bit about the challenge. However, more than anything, it’s nice to have a woman not kissing my ass.
Rocky is different. She’s not trying to impress me or get my attention. Hell, I think she’s shot me down more times than one man should have to take. But take it I am.
Christ, for the past two days, I’ve been practically eating up her rejection. I barely recognize my own behavior, but I’m surprisingly okay with how things have gone.
Pulling into our driveway, my headlights illuminate the house Rex and I put so much time and effort into building. The two of us had a hand in every part of this place, from the framing to the finish work. This is my favorite place to be. I only wish I got to spend more time up here.
I park and the five of us head inside. “I’m going out back. Anyone want to sit around the fire pit with me?”
It’s no surprise when Rex and Dani refuse, stating they’re going to bed. Violet makes the excuse that she needs to check her email.
“I’l
l hang out with you. I haven’t sat around a fire in way too long,” Roxanne says, surprising me. I thought for sure when Vi passed that she would pass also.
We make a quick stop in the kitchen to grab a couple of drinks—wine for her and beer for me.
“I think I should apologize for the plastic cups. It’s like being at a college party all over again,” I tell her as I work on starting the fire.
She tips the cup back, downing a large gulp of the white wine, then licks her lips. “Were you a frat boy?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Hellll no.”
“Sorry. I assumed you were a jock and they’re usually in frats.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I did play sports, but I didn’t live on campus.”
“That’s nice that you stayed home with your parents.”
“I didn’t. I lived with my girlfriend at the time.”
She gasps. “You had a girlfriend?”
“Yeah. Why is that so shocking?”
“You don’t seem like the girlfriend type.”
“What does that mean?”
“I guess I imagined you were the love ’em and leave ’em type. You know, the guy who avoids commitment.”
“I wasn't always that guy,” I share.
“What made you change?”
Sinking down into the chair next to hers, I take a deep pull of my cold beer.
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, you’re not. I don’t mind talking about what happened. It was a long time ago and I’ve never made the same mistake since.”
“Your girlfriend broke your heart?”
“Something like that.” I take another sip from my bottle before replying, “She decided she liked her TA better than me.”
“That sucks.” She watches me, her eyes glowing sympathetically in the light from the fire.
“It did at the time, but in hindsight, she did me a favor.”
“Absolutely. Better to find out then, instead of later or even worse, after being married,” she responds.
“I dodged a bullet, for sure.” I look over at her. “What about you? What’s your story?”
“Meee?” she elongates the word, like she’s surprised I’m interested.
“Yes, you.”
She knocks the rest of her beverage back, setting the empty cup on the ground. Her chest rises with a deep inhale, and she releases the breath on a weighty sigh. “I’ve had one serious boyfriend.”
“Really? Only one?” I didn’t expect her to say that.
“Yep. I dated a few people for a couple of months at a time in high school and college, but I was never in love with them. It wasn’t until after college that I had a long-term relationship.”
I picture a younger version of Roxanne, and I imagine she was as stunning then as she is now. “I bet that wasn’t the case for the guys you went out with. They probably fell hard for you.”
She taps her fingernails against the armrests on the chair. “They were in love with the idea of being in love.”
“Why do I doubt that? I bet you left a string of broken hearts all over your hometown,” I prod.
“Hardly.” Her stiff body language tells me she’s not as comfortable speaking about her dating history as I am.
“What do you do in your spare time when you’re not working?” I change the subject. I’m enjoying our newfound peace too much to chance upsetting the balance we’ve found.
“What spare time?” she scoffs. “This weekend is the first one I’ve taken off since Christmas.”
“I hear ya. Rex and I put in a lot of long hours to finish projects on time. But I love my work.”
“I don’t know if I love what I do, but it’s something I’m good at. And my company has done well. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished.”
Shifting my weight, I turn my upper body toward her. “What do you do anyway? You never really told me.”
“My company runs background checks on people.”
“For businesses?”
“No, we do them for individuals who want to know someone’s history.”
“Is that legal?” I ask.
“It’s not against the law.” Spine straightening, she grips the arms on the chair.
I hold my hand up to stop her anger before it takes over. “I’m not trying to insinuate you’re doing something illegal. Your work threw me for a bit. The idea of someone being able to run a background check on me at any time blows my mind. I knew people hire private investigators to spy on a cheating spouse or to find a long lost relative. The idea of people investigating someone’s background for shits is kind of fucked up.”
“I should probably explain that my company is for women and men who want to know more about the person they’re dating or about to date.”
My eyebrows jump. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m serious. My company is called Manfax. You know how you can get a Carfax report when you buy a used car?” I nod. “Well, we run them for people who want to know their prospective partner’s romantic history.” What? This is some seriously messed up shit.
Gathering my thoughts, I rub my chin. “That seems really intrusive. Shouldn’t sharing details from their past be up to each individual, and not come from some report?”
“That’s the era we’re living in. It’s a lucrative business,” she informs me. I understand it’s lucrative, but that doesn’t mean I agree with people who choose to go that route.
“I would hate someone knowing my private business before I even got to know them. If they’re not willing to trust me to share details of my past, then why the fuck would I want to be with them in the first place?”
“I’m sure you’re not the only one who feels this way. But you wouldn’t believe how many cases we have going at any given time. That’s why I employ private investigators. They leave no stone unturned. I make sure my clients get their money’s worth.”
“Do women represent the larger demographic of people who hire your company?”
“Absolutely. We have men who hire us too, though.”
“I must be living under a rock. I didn’t know businesses like yours existed.”
“You don’t strike me as the type to hire my company.”
“No offense, but I’m not.”
She smiles. “None taken. Manfax isn’t for everyone.”
“Have you had any bad experiences with clients who were displeased?”
“One or two, but no matter how disappointing or painful the report may be, most people are pleased they learned the facts before they became too invested.”
“Jesus, if anyone ran one of those reports on me, they’d never want to date me.”
11
Roxanne
A nervous giggle pops from my mouth. Holy crap. I should probably tell him how we’ve run four reports on him in the past few months—shouldn’t I?
Ethically, I can’t, because our service is guaranteed to be private. Our clients sign paperwork where we promise confidentiality, and legally I can’t go back on that. I won’t break that clause simply because I’m feeling conflicted about Adam’s own reports.
The repercussions from sharing such information could come back to bite me in the ass. I’m not willing to lose the business I’ve worked so hard to make successful over a momentary bout with my guilty conscience.
Besides, it’s not like I read all the sordid details. I didn’t go beyond his picture and basic dating information.
“You think that’s funny?” he asks, reminding me of his comment.
Thank God, he thinks I was laughing at what he said.
I tip my head, studying his handsome visage. “Are you sure about that? I don't really know you well, but you give off an overpowering manwhore vibe.”
He chuckles. “Manwhore? Nice word. Did you make that word up to go with Manfax? Do you have a list of ‘man terms’ you coined to fit your business?”
I laugh. “No, I didn’t make it up, and there’s
no list, but that’s not a bad idea. And manwhore is how they refer to guys who sleep around in the books I’ve read.”
“FYI, I prefer debauched. It sounds better, much less insulting. But scratch all that. I want to know what kind of books you read.” His eyes gleam mischievously.
“I read mostly romance.”
“With lots of screwing?” He looks hopeful.
“I never said that.”
“You mentioned sleeping around. Do they describe the sex?”
I nod. “Most of the time.”
“How detailed do they get?”
“It depends on the author. Some get explicit, and others can be more vague.”
“Which one do you prefer?”
Should I answer this question? If I do, he’ll probably label me as some sex fiend and flirt with me even more. But what does it matter? It’s not like I’ll see him again any time soon.
“Give me all the hot sex scenes.”
“I knew you were going to say that,” he boasts.
“You mean you were hoping I would. You manwhores are all the same,” I retort.
“I think you mean men. Us men are all the same. There’s no getting around it, no matter how much authors and women try to romanticize us. We think about sex more than you can imagine.”
“I think men underestimate how much women think about sex. We’re just not as obnoxious about showing other people.”
“I’m not obnoxious about wanting sex,” he defends.
“I beg to differ. I seem to remember a comment about me loving your meat.”
“Come on. That line was gold.”
“If you think that’s gold, your taste sucks,” I state matter-of-factly.
“Well, I think you’re beautiful. Doesn’t that mean I have great taste?”
“Depends on who you ask, I guess.”
“Another opinion isn’t needed. You are beautiful.”
My stomach flutters, like a kaleidoscope of butterflies were set free inside. Springing to my feet, I wipe my suddenly damp palms on my jeans. “I’m gonna head up to bed now… alone.”
Oh my God. Why did I add that?
