Page 33 of The Spite Date (Small Town Sisterhood #1)

The man smiles at me.

He smiles .

At that .

“You have issues,” I mutter.

“We all do.”

“Oh my god, stop smiling . That’s just—why are you so happy about not liking your parents?”

“I have managed a remarkable achievement. I dislike my parents, so I set out to be as unsuccessful as possible while also being as happy as possible to spite them as I simultaneously disappoint them, and I’ve succeeded beyond my wildest expectations.

And then the world rewarded me for my humble happiness with an ungodly level of professional success that I do not rub in their faces, though I could, and they know it, which means that I win.

I am the bigger person, all while immensely disliking the people who raised me and being happy about all of it. ”

I don’t even know what to say back to that.

I’m not sure I even followed it all. “You’re getting back at your parents by being unsuccessful and then over-successful and you win because you’re also morally better than they are?”

“Exactly. When one or the other wasn’t angry with me for whatever I saw or didn’t see with their flagrant affairs, they made sure that I knew perfection wasn’t good enough, therefore I would never be good enough.

It’s remarkable how choosing to be happy has been the antidote to my entire childhood. ”

“I can’t decide if that’s the healthiest attitude I’ve ever heard or the most unhinged.”

“Hopefully both. Are you aware that we’ve become the subject of gossip at a national level?” Simon says, switching the subject so quickly that I almost get whiplash.

“What? No. What are you talking about?”

“The executive producer of my show called as the boys and I were headed home. We’ve made a few gossip sites. He’s asked that I continue to be seen in public with you. Good for continued high ratings while I write my next project.”

“What’s next?”

He winks. “It’s a secret. Which us being seen in public would not be.”

“And…you’ll go out with me to spite your parents?”

“Absolutely not. My jolly existence is enough to spite my parents at this point. But I enjoy your company, and Lana tells me she’s on your side and that I shouldn’t be angry about the situation with your ex-boyfriend, as he’s a total wanker.

So it wouldn’t be a hardship to take you on another date, unless you dislike me so immensely for the utter arse that I made of myself last night that you would prefer to never see me again. ”

I choke on a laugh. “It’s a relief to know that being seen with me wouldn’t be a hardship.”

“I’m aware you have no interest in long-term plans.

I am also never getting involved in anything long term, so we could simply…

enjoy each other’s company for the remainder of the summer.

Or until you become fed up with me. Whichever might come first. Which I suspect will be you becoming fed up with me. It fits my track record.”

Fuck me sideways, he’s serious. “What makes you think I’d be fed up with you before you get fed up with me?”

That smile.

My god, that smile needs to stop.

I’m starting to feel happy just because he’s smiling, and that’s easily four steps beyond noticing a man might have an attractive feature or two.

This is puppy attraction stage.

Not puppy love—god no, never puppy love—but definitely puppy attraction.

“I would be the person with the most to gain from a fake relationship—” he starts.

“Public friendship, nothing more. I don’t do relationships, fake or otherwise. My brothers would flip the fuck out, and?—”

“Would they punch me?”

Why does he look even happier about that? Men . They’re so—just men . “Look, there’s something you need to know about Griff?—”

“He’s taken up boxing when he’s not playing baseball?”

“No, I was going to say he’s very good with his bat.

And he’s the chillest of my three brothers until someone mistreats me.

Then, watch the fuck out. He doesn’t know all of the details about my breakup with Jake because he’d be a complete ass about it, and I think he has some teammates who would help him out. ”

“Do you go to see him play often? His home team is in Atlanta, correct? Not exactly driving distance, is it?”

“Ryker and Hudson and I went to a few games last year when his team was in New York or Boston or Philadelphia, and the team flew me to Atlanta once or twice because of how much the press loved his story last year. Big deal, orphaned rookie and all.”

“I have this thing called a large bank account. It’s fun to use it. I could take you to one of his games in any city you’d like. And we could hide from the press. They wouldn’t have to know we were there.”

Is it possible for eyeballs to gag? That’s what it feels like mine are doing right now.

Gagging right out of my head.

“Simon.”

“Yes, Bea?”

“That’s not public friendship. That tells people I’m giving you blow jobs every day.”

“We could negotiate that into our arrangement. Though I do insist on orgasm equality. My dream is that a former lover one day encounters my father and informs him that I’m better in the sack, and that dream will never come true if I don’t uphold high standards for myself.”

“I am so glad I wasn’t drinking anything just now.”

His eyes twinkle, and I want to kiss him.

I want to throw my arms around him and kiss him until I can’t breathe.

I want to know if he’s serious about equal orgasms.

I want to know if he’s as capable as he’s making himself out to be.

I hold a hand up as he takes a half step toward me. “We are not doing this. Thank you for stopping by. I’m glad you got out of the carnival safely after the incident. And thank you for forgiving me for putting you in an awkward situation last night.”

“I would have forgiven far worse for the magic that is your willy—ah, corn dog.”

I press my palm to my forehead. “Are you for real, or is this all an act?”

“You’ll never know unless you spend more time with me.”

I could do it.

I want to do it.

I want to be around someone this happy.

Not that Daphne isn’t happy. Or our other friends. My brothers.

Okay, Ryker’s not happy.

He’s a grumpy-ass grump monster.

But he’s consistent about it.

“What will Lana think?”

“She’ll be highly amused. Especially if you attempt to teach the boys some of your brothers’ tricks. For use on me only, naturally.”

“Oh, no. Hard line. I’m not getting involved in your kids’ lives. I’m so serious when I say I’m not raising any more kids. And I’m not leading them on.”

“The boys are well aware that I occasionally date and that none of my dates are serious.”

“Are they, though?”

“My parents should have divorced before I was born. Lana’s parents as well. We’ve been very clear with the boys that each of us will have romantic partners, and that they—the boys—will always come first until they reach the age of maturity.”

Is it wrong to be in love with how he says things?

That’s normal, right? For me to have a crush on his speech patterns?

For me to wonder what he’d say if we were naked and he had me on the brink of an orgasm?

Why is it so damn hot in this kitchen?

“If we do this?—”

He angles closer.

Or maybe I’m angling closer to him.

Am I moving closer to him?

Huh.

I am. It’s me.

I swallow and set my tea on the small patch of counter between the fridge and the sink that he’s still leaning one hip against. “If we do this, it’s friends only.”

“Friends with benefits?”

“I—”

I enjoy sex.

I suspect I’d enjoy sex with Simon a lot.

And not because Jake would hear or because I want to hook up with a celebrity so that I can tell a story to my great-nieces and nephews one day.

I’d enjoy having a fling with Simon because he’s fun. And despite my initial irritation with him over the whole jail thing, what other celebrity—hell, what other person —would have sought me out to apologize for the misunderstanding? And then also made his kids apologize?

He didn’t have anything to gain from that.

I’m cautiously optimistic that he is a good person.

That he’s not out to hurt me.

“How about this?” he says. “I’ll kiss you, and if there’s no spark, then we will be friends in public for the fun of it. But if there is a spark, then we will be friends in public with benefits in private for the fun of it.”

“That’s a lot of pressure for a kiss.”

“If you find me sloppy and cold and disgusting, then I shan’t even ask you to be my friend in public.”

How is it possible that I’m smiling so much that my cheeks hurt?

I can’t remember the last time I smiled this hard. “You’re hilarious.”

“I rather prefer the word charming , but if you wish to call me hilarious, I’ll deal with it.

” His hand settles on my hip. Eyes still twinkling.

Smile still shining bright. “I find you fascinating. I would enjoy spending more time with you. So I certainly hope I’m not a disappointment. There’s quite a bit of pressure now.”

There is.

It’s in his crotch.

“Yes, I can feel that,” I murmur.

“It’s beyond my control when I’m alone with an intriguing woman. Your dimples drive me mad.”

“If things beyond my control are all you like about me?—”

“I’ve only begun to name the things about you that intrigue me.”

Simon likes me.

Or, as Hudson would say, he liiiiiikes me.

Or he’s pretending .

And so what if he is?

Neither of us is looking for a long-term relationship.

We’re just looking for fun.

That’s what I’m thinking about— fun —when his lips brush mine.

Warm, soft lips that make my heart race faster and the delicious kind of shiver dance down my neck.

My eyes drift shut.

He suckles at my bottom lip.

I grip his shirt while he slides his hand around my waist and tugs me closer, that bulge behind his zipper pressing harder into my belly.

We’re doing this.

I’m kissing Simon.

Not just tease-kissing.

No, this has rapidly moved to full-on making out, lips and tongues exploring while he turns me against the counter.

Apparently one of us is hungry.

Maybe both of us.

Because now that I’m kissing Simon, I can’t see a world existing where this doesn’t end with us naked and in my bed.

I want to lick his neck.

I want him to leave whisker-burn marks on mine.

Losing myself in this kiss, in the grip he has on my waist, in the way he’s pushing me against the counter— yes, please .

I hitch one leg around his hips, and he lifts me onto the edge of the counter so I can wrap both legs around him.

Clearly, this kiss is going well.

I might have to pretend to be his girlfriend for the summer.

Or just his lover.

The way his erection is nestled between my thighs while I pulse my pelvis against it, the talent he has with his tongue, the steel wall of his chest—this man looks like a happy-go-lucky goofball, but oh my god .

When was the last time my lady bits were panting this hard, coiling tight so fast? He hasn’t even touched my ass or my breasts or my neck or anywhere else that it usually takes to get me turned on.

He’s just dry-humping me on a countertop while his tongue and his lips treat me to the best kiss of my life.

If he tried to touch my ass or my breasts or so much as breathed on my neck, on that magic spot behind my ear, I’d come on the spot.

I wrap my arms around his neck and weave my fingers through his hair, gripping the short strands and holding him in place.

He makes a low growl in his throat, and then he’s deepening the kiss.

Yes .

Yes, more .

He slides one hand under my blouse, his fingers dancing up my spine and playing my body like he’s been practicing for this moment his entire life.

Bedroom.

No, fuck the bedroom.

I mean, we’ll fuck in the bedroom.

Later.

Right now, I need to get these buttons on his shirt undone and then tackle his pants, and then?—

“Well, hello. Not what I was expecting, but I can go with this,” Daphne says.

I shriek.

Simon yanks out of the kiss and loses his grip on me, which would be fine if I were on the counter-counter.

But I’m not on the counter-counter.

I’m on the edge of the counter in front of the sink, and no one has a small enough ass to be balanced there and then suddenly freed to go anywhere except back.

And that’s exactly what I do.

I fall back.

Into the sink.

Dishes crunch and clank beneath my ass.

Water soaks into my linen shorts.

Cold, nasty, dirty dishwater.

“He needed to role-play a scene so he can write it right,” I blurt.

Simon gives me a slow once-over.

He’s returned to standing in front of the sink—probably so that Daphne can’t see his raging hard-on, which my lady bits are missing right now—and his cheeks are flushed and his pupils are dilated and his breath is coming too fast.

“Do you honestly think she believes that?” he murmurs to me, those talented lips hitching up at the corners again and making all of me a little swoony.

The man is too attractive for my own good.

Possibly his own too, but that’s his problem.

“I definitely don’t believe that,” Daph says. “Margot?”

“Quit being obnoxious,” Margot replies. “We’re leaving. Carry on.”

“My ass is soaked with soggy cereal,” I mutter.

Simon’s grin grows.

I don’t think it’s a serves you right grin though.

I think he’s just—well, happy .

Because that’s what he’s chosen to be.

Happy .

It’s inspiring.

I want to be happy like that.

“We shall have to plan our next date better,” he says to me.

“Casual summer fling date,” I stutter in return.

“As you wish.”

“Jake’s gonna fucking lose his mind,” Daphne whispers.

“That’s his problem.” Simon adjusts himself subtly, then pulls me out of the sink. “Do all of your issues revolve around water and plumbing fixtures? Toilets and fishbowls?—”

“They wouldn’t if you’d made out with her in her bedroom like a proper gentleman,” Daphne says. “And the fishbowls were your fault, Romeo.”

“She egged me on,” he replies with a grin.

Margot sighs and looks at the ceiling. “I would love to help you out more here, Bea, but I have to get back to the city. My driver’s waiting. Daphne—actually, I don’t know what to say right now.”

Daph slings an arm around her sister’s shoulder. “I love you works.”

Margot smiles, then squeezes her tight. “Okay. Then I love you. Don’t let that cheese go to waste.”

“Never.”

“I should go as well,” Simon says. “The boys?—”

“Shouldn’t be left for long,” I finish.

“I’ll ring you later.”

Am I blushing?

I think I’m blushing. “Okay.”

That smile. Gah . Again with that smile making me feel—well, things I shouldn’t feel.

Like that he cares.

That he likes me.

That we’ll be making out again soon. This time with advance planning.

And hopefully no falling into dirty dishes.

He squeezes my waist and kisses my cheek, and then he follows Margot out the door.

Daphne shuts it behind both of them, then looks at me.

After a minute, both of us squeal.

It’s not real -real.

It’s a temporary fling.

And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.

Weird or not.