But it’s true.
Between Missy’s overly round, pushed up to her chin plastic boobs, expensive blonde dye job and extensions, lash extensions, fake nails, fake tan, and judging by her parents’ picture, her nose job, she’s a beautiful example of the good work money can buy. And there are plenty of people who love that look.
Meanwhile, Courtney is an all-natural beauty with soft curves to grab, breasts I want to suffocate in, and a slightly crooked smile when she’s pleased with herself, like now.
I wait a full thirty seconds before I finally let my laugh out, shaking my head. “You are too much! God, that was awesome. You know she’s going to kill herself out there tonight, prancing around the floor, creating a damn hazard, and pretending to kick your ass with every rep?”
Courtney buffs her manicured nails on her chest. “I do what I can.”
“What’s your plan for tonight?”
“No worries. Finish up your work on the event. I know you need to transfer all that to your laptop and calendar.” She knows me so well because that’s exactly what I need to do. “I’m going to hit Zumba and then we can go home, ’kay?” Courtney says, totally calm. “What would you like to eat?”
“Thai?”
“Awesome . . . and you can tell me more of your plan on the way home,” Courtney says, pausing at the door before turning and running across the room. She stands on her tiptoes and gives me a quick kiss on the lips, grinning when she steps back.
“What was that for?”
“For being you,” she says before turning and running to the door. “See you in an hour!”
Sure. And maybe in an hour I can stop thinking about that kiss long enough to get more of this plan laid out before it’s time to go home.
Because right now, all I can think of is what Courtney’s lips taste like with that mint ChapStick on.
Shit, I’m fully hard now. There’s a knock at the door, and I almost groan before turning around, part of me fearing Missy’s back for more and another part hoping it’s Courtney, back to check off another one of my fantasies. Conference room quickie. I’ll need to turn the cameras off for that, though . . . maybe.
Luckily, or unluckily . . . I’m not sure which, it’s Ross. “Hey, Kaede, got a moment? I want to talk to you about Courtney.”
* * *
Tonight, we’re at my place, which feels nice—lying on my sofa, Courtney in my arms as she flips through movies, trying to figure out what she wants to watch tonight.
It feels so homey. I could see doing this for a lot longer than just the next month.
Still, there must be something wrong because Court sets down the remote to sit up and look at me. “Okay . . . I just offered three different choices on what to watch, and I didn’t hear ‘that fuckin’ Carole Baskin’ once. What’s up?”
“I dunno,” I admit, pulling my leg in and sighing. “Today was a lot. Missy, Ross, the event. This partnership is just not what we thought it’d be. I mean, One Life-wise. The event is a good idea. But the rest of it . . . Missy, Jeffrey, a different construction company . . . there’s more than we expected.”
Courtney reaches over, laying a hand on my knee. “Did you expect Jeffrey to be a silent partner?”
“Honestly? I was hoping. He’s pretty silent in a lot of his investments. And we’d developed a stellar plan, shown how well it works, and we hoped to duplicate that. Messing with the recipe makes me nervous.”
“Your control freak is showing,” she whispers with a sweet smile.
I chuckle, covering her hand with mine. She’s got my ring on, and it feels nice to have the stones pricking against my skin right now. “Takes one to know one.”
“Damn right. But it’ll be okay. This is what people like Jeffrey do. They get enough money, enough separation, that they pull crazy shit sometimes, and you know that. You’ve been on both sides of the table with Ross when you two were at Andrews. Investors have opinions and want to mix stuff up, usually for the benefit of the whole project but sometimes just because they feel like they need to piss on something to claim it. Ross did it, Dad does it, and hell, I do it. You’re just on the other side now.”
I laugh quietly. “Please don’t piss on me. I’m not into that.”
She blinks once, twice, three times and then bops me with a pillow. I grab the other one because yeah, I’ve got two now, and bop her back. We trade shots, laughing and climbing all over the couch, just acting silly and having fun. I think it might be my first pillow fight ever, which makes me smile even more.
Finally, we collapse back onto the couch. “Sorry. Missy made literally everything I said today sexual. After a while, it was kind of an inside joke between me, myself, and I. Every time I’d finish speaking, in my head, I’d think, ‘That’s what she said,’ and see if it worked. More often than not, it didn’t, but that sure as fuck didn’t stop her from trying.”
Courtney runs her fingers through my hair, scratching at my scalp, which feels amazing. I’m silent for a moment, enjoying it, but when I look up and meet her eyes, I’m struck by how tender they are. She takes me as I come, letting me into her most private and sacred of spaces, and accepts me as who I am. It’s . . . powerful.
“Thank you for tonight. I’m just exhausted, mentally and physically, and needed . . .” I taper off. I was going to say to verbally dump all the drama of my day, all my worries and fears, but the truth is . . . I just needed her.
“Then let’s forget the Netflix,” Courtney says, standing up. “Let’s go to bed.”
I nod, knowing that if she wants sex, I won’t turn her down, but I’m relieved when Courtney just nestles against me, her body warm and soft and reassuring as she rests her head on my chest.
This is more dangerous than sex. Sex can be explained. We were both in a dry spell, we just needed to get our fucks on, and hey, it’s healthy. But this is more than that. Courtney is who I turn to now.
I’m known for being the stand-up, go-to guy who can handle anything and everything without flinching or blinking, always with a plan. But even I have moments of doubts, and she was there for me tonight, without hesitation or judgement.
I’m so fucked. I’m not just fucking my best friend’s little sister. I’ve completely fallen for her. And I think—no, I’m pretty sure—she’s fallen for me too.
Chapter 22
Courtney
This is my new favorite time of the week. The sun’s up, Saturday morning rays creeping down the wall as the moments tick away. Monday through Friday, I’d already be out of bed, showered, and trying to decide on whether I should have eggs or a smoothie for breakfast or if I’d rather just save some time by having a protein bar in the car.
But today, at least for the next few hours, I don’t have anything pressing to do. Later, it’ll be crazy, but for now, I’m soaking in relaxed bliss, lying in my bed, relishing the warmth of the body next to me as Kaede lazily traces his fingers along my skin, just petting me.
And yes, I know how ridiculous that sounds, especially from me. I would deny under penalty of torture actually looking forward to being a pet. I’ve worked too hard to be the Ice Queen, but he melts me so readily. Even bitchy cats occasionally let you pet them, and that’s what I’ve become . . . for him only. Icy and distant as usual for everyone else, but I purr at the merest touch from Kaede.
“You ready for today?” Kaede asks quietly, not wanting to break the spell we’re both under.
“As I’m going to be. I hate being paraded around like a show pony by my parents, but for this, I guess I’ll have to make allowances.”
Kaede chuckles, his hand still tracing patterns on my shoulder. “They’re just proud of you, of all of you. You’re the greatest gift they have.”
God, he’s so sweet. Does anyone else know how amazing he is? I hope not. I want it to be my secret. My sweet Kaede, just for me. And ooh, that’s the spot.
I have to stop my leg from bouncing like a dog’s when they’re being stroked just right. Dog, cat . . . whatever, jus
t keep doing that.
“I know.” I sigh into his touch. “But it’s weird to stand there while Dad introduces me to his colleagues with a list of my accomplishments like it’s the annual Christmas card, or worse, my resume. And then it’s this whole show of one-upmanship. Oh, your daughter’s a VP? My son is a renowned surgeon, doing Very Important Work, caring for refugee orphans with UNICEF outside the wire. Oh, well my son’s going to be named executive officer of the Abraham Lincoln, youngest XO in the fleet. Everyone says in two years he’ll have his own command, and then it’s flag ranks, or maybe politics. You know how he loves to serve his country. It’s like watching a bunch of people kissing their own asses so hard their heads get sucked inside like a wayward vibrator.”
He almost chokes, sputtering at my imagery. “Well, that would be impressive to see.” Kaede wiggles his hips and cranes his head up without moving enough to dislodge me, making me laugh. “Nope, can’t see myself doing it. Maybe I should go with you and Abi on that yoga date? Work on my ass-kissing flexibility.”
I shove at him, giggling. “I know! I’m a monster, but ugh . . . I’m going to be left standing there, trying to figure out how to say ‘Well, the most charitable thing I did was support the Girl Scouts by buying too many cookies last spring, so I guess you win the humanitarian dick measuring contest.’ ”
Kaede laughs too, grabbing my ass and squeezing hard at the muscle, and okay, at the Thin Mints that definitely do not make me thin and instead took up residence in the suburbs of my cheeks. “I support the Girl Scouts too. Although I prefer if my cookies are all-natural, made from real Girl Scouts.”
I laugh, the line from The Addams Family even more hilarious after we watched it last night before making love. And that’s what it is now, no bones about it even if we’re not saying it.
Kaede kisses my neck and then freezes, pulling back. “Wait . . . is that real? Somebody there tonight actually has a superhuman doctor kid?”
I grin wryly and nod, looking up between his arms that are just about to cage me. “Yup. His name is . . . get this, I swear I’m not making it up . . . Blaine Cleveland . . . the Third.”
I dissolve into helpless giggles, and Kaede collapses next to me, shaking his head. “And the Navy guy?”
“Yup, real as real can be. Xavier Hollingsworth,” I gasp out between laughing clenches of my stomach muscles. At least I’m getting an ab workout today.
“Tell me this—is there an oil tycoon heir named Chet?”
I cannot quit laughing, especially as Kaede rolls onto me, still chuckling too. “No, I don’t think so. Is that a friend of Ross’s?” He shakes his head, his teeth flashing white as he gives me that smirk that’s mine alone. “They’re awful, right? And we’re normal?”
Kaede sighs. “Shit, I hope so. Then again, if we’re the awful ones, at least hell’s gonna be fun with you there too.”
“Thanks!” I wiggle beneath him as he tickles me, both of us cracking up again. It’s bright and fun, light and silly. I’ve never done this in a relationship before, joking and lazing around on a Saturday morning, but with Kaede, I want to just lie here and soak him in like sunshine.
Sex with Kaede is a powerful, body-melting experience. We’ve learned each other’s bodies and can play one another like masters. But talking with him, just being with him like this, is equally powerful because we know each other’s mind, too. I’ve never been with someone this passionate and brilliant, both equal turn-ons.
I’ll miss this.
“Hey,” I ask, mainly to distract myself from any future end, “wanna get a training session in before we get ready?”
“Let’s do it.” He pops my Thin Mint-enhanced ass, grinning easily as he hops up.
We get dressed, me from my closet and him from the bag he has on the floor of my closet. It’s killing me, and I know it’s got to be driving him nuts. I have an open drawer already cleaned out for him in my dresser, but I haven’t found it in me to offer it. Every time I do, it’s like I’m shattering this convenient lie we’ve woven, that this is just temporary fun. It feels too permanent for something with an expiration date.
But folded clothes in a bag isn’t either of our styles. Even his work clothes for the gym shouldn’t just be stuffed in a bag.
At least his suit for tonight is hanging in the closet. Maybe I can build on that?
We hit the strongman area of One Life for today’s training session. Using a weighted sled, Kaede does a couple of pushes up and down the floor while I do some slow-mo burpees so I can watch my man work.
As he gets winded, I decide he could use some encouragement, and I wouldn’t mind a close-up view. I hop onto the sled, perching on the flat weights, and call out, “Mush, mush!” Kaede’s no sled dog, but he does another lap, grunting as he laughs at my version of a hard-nosed football coach giving him ‘inspiration’. “C’mon, man. Give me all you’ve got. Push . . .” And that of course turns into me singing off-key, “Sha, push it. P–push it real good.” That makes him laugh even more, but we make it.
At the far end, he stops. “Down and back, race you.”
Oh, shit! I hop off the sled and line up with him. I take a good step and then yell back, “Go!” He still beats me easily, but it’s fun to race one another, even if I cheated.
We have fun and Kaede talks about actually competing in the strongman competition. “Not sure if that’s legit, since it’s my event. Definitely a conflict of interest.”
I shake my head. “Only if you win. If you participate, you’re supporting your members. AJ’s gonna win, anyway.”
He wraps his arms around me, picking me up and spinning me around while I try to hold back the squeal of delight that’s trying to fight free. “You think so? Think he can beat me?” he mock-growls. I tilt my head and give him a wry look because while Kaede is in amazing tip-top shape, AJ is a monster. “Well, you don’t have to be so sure about it,” he jokes.
I give him a quick kiss, soothing the not-even-an-insult. It’s just a fact.
We get back just after noon and use some good old-fashioned teamwork to make a quick meal of chicken and asparagus together, dancing around my kitchen like pros. After we clean up the dishes, we shower and get ready. I pull on my dress, a black cocktail dress that I know looks a little conservative, even for me, but tonight’s event requires it.
“You look beautiful,” Kaede says as I put on my earrings, a gift from Mom that I’m wearing for her.
“You too . . . well, handsome in a sort of geeky, I guess I’ll take you to the party way.”
Kaede laughs and mimes adjusting some glasses before we head out. I grab my gift from the kitchen and pause at the front door. I know it’s just a few minutes . . . but this part sucks.
“I’m going to stop at a specialty liquor store to pick up some single malt Glenfiddich for Morgan so we don’t arrive together,” Kaede says, looking me up and down. “And I know you need to get going to do your daughter duties.”
Shit. Looking into his eyes, I’d almost forgotten. It feels so natural with Kaede, but we have to keep up appearances, dancing this real-no real edge.
We discussed going to my parents’ anniversary party as two singles, not a couple, because we're not extending the charade to my parents. There’s no need to. Still, it pinches something inside me painfully.
I want to go with you, arrive on your arm, dance the night away, and be with you, Kaede McWarren.
I nod and reach up to adjust his tie a bit even though it doesn’t need it. “Okay. And remember, he prefers the fifteen over the twenty-five-year-old bottles, so don’t splurge on the old stuff. I’ll see you there?”
He nods stiffly, kissing my cheek politely, but it’s nothing like this morning when it was just us. Which just sucks because it means we’re putting on our fucking masks again.
* * *
It’s almost a tradition as my parents have tallied up the years of their marriage.
Twenty-five years? Elegant.
Thirty years? Resplen
dent.
I figure by the time they hit their fifty-year anniversary, we’re going to reach maximum saturation on the party spectrum and hire Celine Dion to sing My Heart Will Go On. Well, maybe not Celine. She might be retired by then.
But Mom and Dad always did their anniversary and family events up big, and I’ve continued that ever since taking over the annual party plans, as evidenced by the small army of decorators, caterers, and house staff currently marching around downstairs. Luckily, I’ve already completed my checklist of make-ready duties, including booking all the vendors for next year, which leaves me free to help Abi, because as usual, she’s running late and was downstairs fiddling with centerpieces on the tables fifteen minutes too long.
But I won’t give her a hard time about it. Nope, I’m going to praise my big sister because she is praiseworthy. “The flowers look amazing. You outdid yourself this year. You, on the other hand . . . you’re bleeding!”
“Where?” Abi asks, then looks at her wrist. “Damn roses. Might make a decent song, but I hate that every rose has its thorn.”
“I thought you de-thorned them?”
Abi glares at me and waves her wrist around. “I did.”
“Yeah, yeah . . . go vampire on that thing while I do something with this hair,” I grumble, pulling a brush through Abi’s thick locks. Unlike me, who has to struggle to get volume in my hair and benefits from sleeker styles, Abi has hair that can break off a brush if you’re not careful.
Finally, I get the worst of it tamed and pull everything up into a quick updo, knowing that a few strands will escape no matter what. But that works for Abi, who can totally pull of that effortless, elegant ‘woke up like this’ vibe when she wants to.
“Okay . . . now the dress,” I proclaim when the last pin’s in place. “You ready?”
“Yeah, yeah . . . so, how’re things with K-a-e-d-e?” Abi asks teasingly, making me whip my head behind me to make sure the damn door’s closed.
My Big Fat Fake Engagement Page 26
