Page 24 of Cinderella Is Faking It

Yeah, it had never been about how smart I was… I forced myself to smooth my furrowed brows before pulling out of the hug, because I hadn’t told Parker about Childs. Of course, he thought the problem with my months and months of unemployment lay with me and how smart I presented myself. “Thank you,” I said again, unsure how else to respond.

“Del?”

My back stiffened at the sound of that voice. Parker looked up before I did, letting out a long “uuuh” sound at the sight of August Beckett. Beck wore a pair of Armani sunglasses, because of course he did, with his perfectly crisp white shirt and perfectly tailored grey trousers and perfectly shiny leather shoes. All polished six-foot-four of him the exact opposite of Parker’s sweatpants and my torn mom jeans. (Zoom interviews didn’t show below the waistline, and these were my most comfy jeans, ok?)

I grimaced against the sun that outlined Beck’s perfectly broad shoulders. “Hi.”

“Casual Monday?” He asked, eyes dropping to where my knees poked through shredded fabric.

“Something like that.”

“Looks good on you.” He put on that stupidly shameless grin that was apparently capable of making me lose my mind, and God, I was already getting the urge to wipe it off his face again.

Next to me, Parker straightened and cleared his throat, as annoyed by that stupid grin as I was. “Hi, I’m Parker. Del’s boyfriend?!” The second half of that almost sounded like he was questioning it.

“Beck.” He shook Parker’s hand, and I swore Parker winced beside me at the grip. Not as hard as that drunk guy at the party, but it was still a wince. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes, nice to meet you. Who are you exactly?” Parker ran a hand through his unruly curls, but that did nothing to make him look more put together. I reached around him and ran my hand over his neck, trying to calm whatever doubts he had. Trying to show Beck that he was not derailing this.

“Do you mind if I steal your girlfriend for just a second?” Beck asked.

Asshole. I was right here. Parker was hardly my keeper. “Actually, we were in the middle of something. I’ll talk to you some other time, Beck.”

“I promise, it will only take a second, hun.”

Hun. As in honey. As in, I had pretended to wipe honey off my nipples in front of him less than 24 hours ago. Him and his stupid, mental word games. “Fine,” I huffed and untangled myself from Parker and the bench. I shot my boyfriend a reassuring smile before walking ten feet off with Beck. “What’s so important?”

“You look good in jeans, Blondie.”

“Seriously? That’s what you wanted to tell me?”

“Let’s get dinner. Right now. There’s a great Ethiopian place down the street.”

I didn’t understand this man. I just didn’t. “You want to have dinner with us? Why?”

“No, just you. I don’t give a shit about Porter,” he scoffed.

“Parker.”

“You’re too good for him.”

“Ohmygod. And let me guess, you’re good enough for me? You don’t even know Parker.”

“It’s part of my job to assess people within seconds of meeting them. I wouldn’t be where I am if I couldn’t. And I have assessed that he’s not worth your while.” He shot a pointed look over my shoulder. Great, now Parker would know we were talking about him.

“Looks like you’re really bad at assessing people if you think I’m going to ditch my boyfriend to hang out with you.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?” That grin was back, and I felt the responding heat rising to my cheeks.

“Screw you,” I hissed, hating that he was right.

“I wish you would. I promise, youwouldenjoy that experience.”

That was it. Oh god. Just let the ground open up and swallow me hole, because my face was burning with the blush to end all blushes. Of course, it hadn’t been enough that I’d fingered myself in front of him. I’d told him that I’d never had an orgasm. “Are you following me?” I asked instead because I was not reopening that can of worms.

“Last night? Kind of. Today? No.” He pointed down the path at a tall, tan, curvy woman with shiny black curls, clad in a tight denim jumpsuit that highlighted just how long her legs were. They probably reached up to my navel. Physically, she was the exact opposite of me. Despite being on the phone, her eyes were firmly trained on us. “Technically having dinner with her.”

A sour taste spread in my mouth, and I crossed my arms in front my chest. “Good. Go have dinner with her,” I snapped, sounding an awful lot like I was jealous.