by Sarah Skye
Praise for Sarah Skye
"Sips & Strokes by Sarah Skye is utterly charming. Featuring a fake relationship plotline that quickly ventures into curl-your-toes territory, it is such a yummy read. You'll fall in love with Lily and Calder too!"
Rosanna Leo, author of the Handymen series.
Sips and Strokes is sweet, sexy, and heart-achingly tender. Sarah Skye delivers a scorching romance that deftly balances characters you root for with the journey of finding the inner strength you need in order to ask for what you truly want. The story is an absolute delight at every turn. I can’t wait for more books from Sarah Skye!
Lindsay Landgraf Hess, author of Storysinger
Sarah Skye make fake dating sweet and fun in this entertaining novel. Lily and Calder are a perfect match!
Charish Reid, author of (Trust) Falling for You
Sips & Strokes
Sarah Skye
Copyright © 2021 by Sarah Skye
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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To our Pride, Prejudice, and Pastry ladies. Stefanie, Sonia, and Sandy, we love you to bits.
Contents
1. Calder
2. Lily
3. Calder
4. Lily
5. Calder
6. Lily
7. Calder
8. Lily
9. Calder
10. Lily
11. Calder
12. Lily
13. Calder
14. Lily
15. Calder
16. Lily
17. Calder
18. Lily
19. Calder
20. Lily
21. Calder
22. Lily
23. Calder
24. Lily
25. Calder
26. Lily
27. Calder
28. Lily
29. Epilogue
Calder
30. Epilogue
Lily
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Sarah Skye
1
Calder
I’m a surgeon. It’s a very important job. I’m definitely about to go in and save someone’s life because I’ve got a stethoscope slung around my neck. The cold metal brushes my bare chest, but I won’t allow myself to shiver. My green scrub pants are slung so low on my hips that my v-cuts are almost indecent.
Slowly, I reach for my mask. My eyes flash, my gaze full of angry intensity and unbridled lust that no dying patient can distract me from. These scrubs are going to have to come off, stat.
“Perfect, Calder, hold that look just another second… Now, let’s lose the mask—yep, just like that, don’t move.” Moments later, the photographer lowers her camera and grins at me. “Fantastic.”
I relax my expression and laugh as I yank the stethoscope off my neck. “If this thing hits my nipple one more time I’m going to break out in goosebumps.”
“No problem, I’ll take that. We’re all set on this one. Take a quick break and change. I think it’s the baseball motif next. Let’s have fun with it, make it less smoldering and more playful, okay? The author is coming in to watch, by the way. She’s excited to meet you.”
“Brilliant, I’ll be right out. She can tell me how to play with my bat if she likes.” I laugh and wink, then head to change clothes.
While I’m stepping into the polyester trousers, I check my email to confirm the details of this afternoon:
Hey, Cal,
I bet you’re stacked with jobs, but I’ve got an emergency and I’ve got to leave town. My regular spot as a form model at the local community college is set to begin this week. I know how you appreciate art—you’re basically the only one in the business I could think of who’d say yes to a gig like this. The professor, Lily Maldonado, is fantastic. I’d hate to leave her in a lurch. It’s 1:15 every Thursday through December. Think you can help us out?
Xoxo, Morgan
Morgan and I had done a few shoots together. She was always a sport. Even though most of our work involved us wearing underwear and tangled in bedsheets, she knew my devotion to the craft and appreciation for the beauty of the human form. How could I say no?
I close the email and check the time. Nine already. Damn, this baseball set better wrap quick, or I’ll be late. I grab the bat and put on my best smile, ready to meet the author of the book and make all her design dreams come true.
2
Lily
"I just can’t understand why you don't want to go, Lily. It's a wedding. Weddings are fun and romantic."
"Mom." I squeeze the steering wheel with both hands and pause to take a long, cleansing breath before addressing my phone, which sits on the dashboard of my car. "You really can’t understand why I don't want to go to my ex-boyfriend's wedding? Seriously?"
Pursing my lips, I slowly and quietly breathe in and out again while merging onto the freeway. I can’t sound too annoyed on this call. If I do, Mom will lecture me on my attitude, which will lead to an argument, and I don’t have time for that. I’m already running late on my commute to work. My muscles are tense as I weave in and out of traffic. The last thing I need is to arrive at my classroom agitated right before I teach twenty college students about life drawing.
"Oh, Lily. You're being dramatic," she says. "It was years ago that you and Marco broke up."
"It was one year ago actually," I say, careful not to grit my teeth.
"Fine. Yes. One year. Whatever."
I roll my eyes at her dismissive tone. There's a loud typing noise on her end. She must be at work already, at her computer in her spacious home office, the headquarters of her high-end interior design business.
"I expected more from you," she says against the tapping sound. "Your dad and I raised you to be a mature young lady who can handle any situation with grace and poise, not someone who refuses to attend an important social event just because you are fixated on the past. That's very immature for an almost-thirty-year-old woman to act that way."
When she exhales, I can picture her disappointed expression as clear as day in my mind. A frown mars her perfectly made-up face. Those high arched eyebrows of hers that look like two perfect slopes of dark brown are furrowed. And her lips, which are undoubtedly shellacked in Chanel lipstick, are pursed so tightly that the muscles in her mouth are twitching slightly.
I scoff. This time I don't bother to hide the sound.
"Scoffing, Lily? Really? While I'm lecturing you on maturity?"
I bite my tongue to keep from saying anything more, to keep from reminding her of the actual reason Marco and I broke up. Because even if I do—even if I lose my cool and remind her for the millionth time what exactly happened to end my two-year-long relationship with the guy my parents spent my entire life hoping I'd marry, it wouldn't do any good.
They thought I made the biggest mistake of my life when I left Marco—even though he hurt me in the worst way. But I shouldn’t be surprised. They've been disappointed in me ever since I dropped out of law school to become an art teacher. It didn’t matter that I hated law and dreaded the thought of becoming a lawyer, or that art was my life-long passion. It was just one more mistake, one more way that I’ve fallen short of their expectations.
"Lily, are you evening listening to me?" Mom's shrill voice emanating from my phone snaps me out of my rage-sadness stupor.
"I'm listening," I lie.
&nb
sp; Just then my phone buzzes with another incoming call. A number I don’t recognize. I normally let calls from unknown numbers go straight to voicemail—it’s usually a robocall or telemarketer or scammer. But right now I’d happily talk to any one of them if it means I can end this conversation with my mother.
“Gotta go, Mom. Important call on the other line. Call you later, okay?”
I answer the other call before she can say anything. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Professor Maldonado?”
My chest squeezes at the low, growly voice spoken in an unfamiliar yet very sexy accent.
“It is. Who’s calling?”
“It’s Calder. Your new model.”
“Oh, Calder! Hi!” I wince at how pitchy and excited I sound.
Morgan, my best friend and the form model I’ve worked with for the past few years for the figure drawing community college course I teach, left the state last week to live with her grandmother. She had major surgery and needs someone to help take care of her for the next few months. She thankfully found a replacement—a model by the name of Calder Ross.
I’ve never met him before, but I don’t care. Morgan recommended him and since I don’t have a backup option, that’s good enough for me.
As I pull into the faculty parking lot of the community college, I search for an open spot and check the time. Five minutes until I’m due to meet him.
“Thank you again for taking on this job last minute,” I say.
“It’s my pleasure.” My stomach flips at his clipped, blunt accent. It’s British for sure, but I can’t place it. Northern England, maybe?
“Just one thing, Professor Maldonado,” he says.
“Please call me Lily.”
“Lily.” I can tell he’s smiling when he says my name. It makes me grin. I can’t remember the last time the sound of my own name made me giddy. But this dude could say anything in his sexy accent—the local weather report, a random phone number—and I’d be grinning until my face hurt.
“Well, Lily,” he says. “If you insist.”
“I insist.” My cheeks are suddenly hot. Damn, is this really all it takes for me to blush these days, a hot male voice paired with an even hotter accent?
I clear my throat and refocus on the conversation.
“I’m running about ten minutes behind this morning,” he says. “I apologize.”
I’m taken aback. As a professor who’s used to taking meetings with perpetually late students and faculty members, I can’t remember the last time someone called me to let me know they’d be running late.
“No worries at all. Thank you for letting me know,” I say. “I appreciate the head’s up.”
“It’s the least I can do. Looking forward to meeting you in person, Lily. Very soon.”
“Likewise.”
We hang up just as I slide into an empty spot and throw the gearshift in my car to park. I’m about to walk out of my car when my phone rings once more. I sigh when I see it’s Mom again. I contemplate letting it go to voicemail, but she’ll just keep calling until I answer. Like always. I may as well finish our earlier conversation now that I have a few extra minutes before I meet Calder.
All the muscles in my neck and shoulders tense when I answer. She dives right into a list of why it’s important for me to go to Marco’s wedding. Our families have been close since I was born. His mom is her best friend and his dad is Dad’s best friend.
“Just imagine what people will say if you don't come,” she says.
Instead, I imagine what people will say if I do show up, no date at my side. Ever since our breakup, I haven't had the energy to date, let alone attempt another relationship. I'm certain there will be endless pitying stares aimed in my direction during the ceremony and reception.
"Did it ever occur to you how I feel in this whole situation, Mom? How would you like to watch one of your ex-boyfriends get married while everyone around you throws you looks of judgment and pity?" I hate how pitchy my voice sounds, but I'm desperate for her to understand...for her to just for once empathize with me instead of trying to get me to do whatever she wants.
"Lily. You and Marco practically grew up together," she says, ignoring my question. "We've spent vacations and holidays together with his family. It's one thing that your relationship didn't work out. We can all learn to live with the choice you've made. But to just blow off his wedding like it means nothing? We raised you better than that.”
Like a reflex, my mind goes back to the day that I ended it with him, the day he hurt me in the worst possible way. I even told my parents about it...and they didn’t care. Why should they care about my feelings now?
I hunch over in my seat, shrinking into myself as I shove the painful memory of what caused our breakup in the back of my mind.
“You haven’t spoken to Marco ever since you ended things with him,” Mom says. “I know your relationship with his fiancée is...difficult.”
“That’s an understatement,” I mutter.
A month after we split, Marco rebounded with my childhood bully Harmony...and then got engaged to her three months after that. I press my eyes shut, hoping the burning sensation doesn't cause any tears to fall. As tough as that was to process, that’s not why I’m on the verge of tears. What’s cutting me deep is that to my parents, maintaining appearances is more important than the happiness of their only child.
“It’s like you’re cutting him out of your life,” Mom says. “How do you think that makes him and his parents feel?"
“I hate that you care more about other people's feelings than your own daughter's feelings. It makes me feel like shit.” I cover my mouth as soon as I say it. Cursing in front of my parents has always been a no-no, but I can’t take her badgering any longer.
“You watch your language, young lady.”
I bite my tongue, my face heating instantly.
“I will not stand for this temper tantrum you’re throwing,” she scolds.
Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against the headrest. “I have to go, Mom.”
I’m about to hang up when her tone turns gentle. “Anakko, please.”
I soften and stay on the phone. Anakko used to be her go-to Filipino term of endearment for me when I was young and obedient and did whatever she and dad wanted me to. She hardly ever uses it anymore. It makes my chest squeeze to hear it again after all this time.
“Just come to the wedding for your dad and me. Please?”
Inside I deflate like a balloon. I know why she’s saying this now...to soften me into saying yes to something I don’t want to do. My shoulders hunch and I shrink into myself. The sad part is, I’m pathetic enough that it works. I’d rather drink shampoo than go to Marco’s wedding, but if it’ll make my parents happy in this moment, after a million moments of disappointing them, then I’ll do it.
“Okay,” I say quietly, slouching in my seat.
“Thank you. It means a lot to your dad and me.”
Closing my eyes, my throat tightens. Another moment in my life where I didn’t have the guts to tell her no.
We hang up, then I climb out of my car, purse and laptop in hand, and walk across campus to the fine arts building where today’s class is held. All the while, the dread of Marco's November wedding hangs over me like an invisible cloud. In two months I'll have to attend in all my pathetically single glory, accompanied by my parents, while I watch my loved-up ex publicly declare his love for the girl who made elementary school hell for me.
I walk into the classroom and stand for a few seconds, taking in the empty space just to give myself some time to let my thoughts settle. I scan the empty easels and stools, the massive window that takes up almost all of the far wall, that filters in the perfect amount of natural light. I walk over and open the windows, inhaling the scent of fresh air and trimmed grass, then go and sit on the dais in the center of the room.
When I take another breath, I start to feel the slightest bit settled. At least here in my classroom, nothing ca
n faze me. I’m calm and in control—in my element. I’m surrounded by my students and my passion. I don’t have to worry about my parents pushing me around or having to put on a brave face in front of my ex and his gorgeous new fiancée or bracing myself for the most awkward wedding ever. In this space, I can be happy and free.
I take another breath, hoping that today’s class with this new model will be enough to take my mind off the impending disaster in my personal life.
3
Calder
The shoot runs long. I’m practically hopping into my jeans as I hurry out the door to my car, trying not to run late for this afternoon’s art class. On the drive over to the campus, I call to say I’m running late, but Professor Maldonado—Lily—is nothing but accommodating. Still, I don’t want to be that person. I gun the engine and skirt the traffic as best I can. I’m nearly there when the phone rings again; it’s Stella, my agent.
“Is this about Sonce?” I ask in greeting as I swing into the parking lot.
“Hello to you too, darling. But, yes, it sure is. Well, that and I’ve got a boxer-brief shoot for you on Monday if you want it.”
I shift into park and fist my hair. “For the love of god, not more underwear right now. What of Sonce? Let me hear it.”
“Fine, fine. It didn’t go as warmly as I’d expected, I’ll say that. They had a lot of questions about your portfolio and social media. Said they’d be in touch.”
