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KELSEY

I could seriously kick Deke Hart in between the legs right now.

I’m doing him a favor, like a massive favor.

I could be home, sitting around my pool, reading the latest gossip magazine, and drinking my favorite energy drink, the guava and kiwi concoction.

It would be the perfect combination. Great, now I’m craving that whole scenario.

Instead, I’m standing by myself because Deke, the gem he is, left me to go mingle with his parents.

This weekend is going to be spectacular; I can feel it deep in my bones. Insert heavy sarcasm here.

My eyes wander around the Hart’s backyard.

I’ll give Deke one thing: he did introduce me to his family, all of them, his siblings as well as their significant others and children; and there sure is a passel of them.

Now I’m praying that when or if someone comes up to me, I’ll remember their names.

That’s also probably why I’m not mingling like I usually would.

I’m a pretty outgoing person, an extroverted introvert, so to speak.

After two days away from home, keeping up the pleasantries, I’m glad that on Monday, I’ll have the day off to rest and enjoy a semblance of solitude.

I take a sip of the crisp white wine, almost choking on it when I feel Deke’s hand slide along my lower back.

That’s the problem with this whole situation.

This man is a grade-A asshole, yet when he glances my way, gives me a whisper of a touch, or smiles, my legs clench.

It’s the most annoying thing in the world, one where I’m constantly in the need to change my panties while also trying to not let Deke become aware of the affect he has on me.

“Enjoying your time?” There’s arrogance to his tone, and it has me rethinking everything I’ve come to know about the man who towers over me, with his dark features in the way of hair and eyes, roguish good looks with a hint of gruffness.

“You could say that.” If there were no one around, his family not looking on, practically dissecting us with their eyes, I’d tell Deke what I really would like to.

For instance, on our way here, which was only a few hours from Gulf Shores, we should have talked about anything and everything, especially our relationship.

Instead, Captain Dickhead shut me down every single time, saying he’d handle it.

So much for that. His surly attitude when he made the introductions showed me a completely different side to him, one that has me questioning how I could ever think the man beside me could possibly be the charming man he came off to be when I first met him.

“Come on, let’s dance, then we’ll get some food, and maybe by then we can sneak out of here.” It’s not a suggestion, not with the way Deke is taking the glass of wine out of my hand when all I really want is to chug it like a frat boy would a beer funnel.

“Alright,” I stammer. How I’m going to survive swaying in Deke’s arms I have no idea, not to mention the dress I wore.

Yep, it meant going braless because I’m the dumbest, most idiotic woman on the planet.

A parka would have been a better idea, but in this Florida heat and humidity, there’s no way.

Not that Alabama is much better. This is my own fault, though.

I’m wearing one of the newest arrivals in the boutique I co-own with my sister that has straps not big enough for a normal bra, the low back making it even more impossible to wear a strapless.

Sure, I could have worn nipple covers. Been there, done that, was embarrassed when sweat plus humidity were mixed in and one of them fell off.

You have no idea how hard it was to realize what happened, somehow managing to slide it with my foot, waiting until the conversation was over before picking it up and then carrying on.

“Kelsey.” I’ve been lost in the moment the whole time since he’s been walking me to the dance floor that was set up in the backyard.

“Yes?” The fabric of his dress shirt rasps against my nipples, causing them to pebble even more.

I’m afraid to look into his eyes, instead finding something else to focus on, like the kids swimming in the pool.

If Deke really sees what’s written on my face, this will be over before it starts, and maybe it should be, especially with the way he’s acted since the moment he picked me up.

“It’d be nice to see your eyes when I’m talking to you.” That lights a flare deep inside me. I take a deep breath, trying not to blow up at his audacity to speak to me like that.

“Well, I would have liked my boyfriend to talk a little bit on the way here, not to drop me off to stand by myself in a sea of people I just met, so I think we’re even.

” I’m probably diving off the deep end on this subject matter, but it’s who I am, and if you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my finest.

“Fuck me.” Deke’s hand on my lower back pushes me closer to his body, causing me to fell his hardness against my stomach for the first time ever.

You see, Deke Hart isn’t really my boyfriend, and I’m not really his girlfriend.

This is all a sham, one big concocted one that I somehow went along with like the idiot I am.