Page 8 of The Sweetmate (Check-In #2)

Casey

I’ve already washed, but I can’t will myself to step out of the shower.

I shouldn’t have been so forward with her.

Every time I looked at her, she seemed sad.

Is it my fault that I desperately want to make people laugh?

Make her laugh? Typically, my flirty comments bring joy to those around me.

It never occurred to me that I’d offend her.

But this is exactly why I need a publicist. I get too caught up and put my big foot in my mouth.

I don’t think about what could be considered “taking things too far.” That little voice that people have in their head that tells them, Stop talking!

You’re making things weird. or Avert this conversation!

Pivot! Pivot! Nope, I do not have that. Both of my parents were huge flirts, with each other and others. It was harmless. Or so I thought.

But she’s right. We need rules and boundaries, or I will be the one to mess all of this up.

I want the public to view me as a guy who can be on family-friendly networks.

I’m not the bad boy the media has portrayed me to be.

I don’t go around sleeping with someone new every night.

That latest headline read Casey Riis has only one type: willing.

At least it showed that consent is important to me.

There’s always a bright side to every situation.

I can’t avoid Lisa forever. We have to meet with people from the network this afternoon.

But there will be no more suggestive remarks, and I will absolutely have no sinful thoughts about my publicist. Who is now my temporary roommate.

Nope. No ideas of us engaging in adult activities.

It’s tragic that I won’t learn what she tastes like. As a chef, I love sampling new flavors.

Frustrated, I shut the water off and stomp out of the shower.

I roughly dry myself off and pause when I hear the sweetest singing voice.

She goes a bit off-key on the high notes, bringing a smile to my lips.

With the towel wrapped tightly around my hips, I creep into the kitchen to find Lisa cleaning and singing to herself.

Her delicious ass is up in the air, and I can’t help but wonder how those globes would feel in my hands.

I have to know. I have to find out.

No. Bad Casey. Down boy. What’s wrong with me?

I’m having sexual withdrawals, that’s what.

I haven’t been with anyone in almost nine months for fear of the media and my prospective partner getting the wrong idea.

I don’t intentionally lead anyone on. I simply like to flirt and joke around.

With Lisa, however, there’s no joking around in my desire for her. But I know I can’t.

It’s like being on a diet and craving the cupcake dancing in front of you.

You want it even more because you can’t have it.

It’s bad for you. Lisa is my cupcake, and I’m on a diet.

A strict diet. A diet that means no sugar with Lisa.

No licking of the icing with Lisa. And definitely no consumption with Lisa.

She spins around and screams at the top of her lungs at the sight of me. “You scared me to death!”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“How long have you been there?”

“Only through two songs. I was hoping to catch the encore.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“And interrupt such a brilliant performance? Never.”

“Lurking is rude, too.”

“You didn’t have to clean my mess. I was coming back to get that.” I tell myself that I’m only walking farther into the kitchen to help, not to get closer to her. But if I’m being honest, I can’t stop myself from getting closer to her.

Her eyes only look at me for a second before averting away. “You cooked. The least I can do is clean.” She begins to repeatedly wipe the same place on the counter.

“Looks like everything’s clean. Especially that spot.”

Her eyes travel up my arm, down my chest, and to where the towel meets my hips.

I watch as her lips part slightly, and desire graces her features.

But then it’s erased almost as quickly as it appeared.

Replaced with annoyance. “Can you please get dressed?” She clears her throat and there’s the smallest hint of vulnerability in her voice when she says, “You’re making me nervous. ”

“Why?” There’s no fear on her face, but I’m worried I’ve offended her again or made her leery of me. “You’re not afraid of me, are you? I promise I’m safe.”

“I’m uncomfortable with the nudity. Professional, remember? All the abs. Muscles. Skin.” She speaks the words as if they’re insults.

“Sorry. I heard you and came in here before I finished getting dressed.”

“Well, go finish.”

“Does this mean we’re still going to work together?”

She finally stops wiping the counter. Her eyes narrow on me. “I’m here for work, not pleasure.”

“I find pleasure in work. You can have both.”

“The only pleasure I’ll be receiving from you is turning your image of a playboy into a respected, wholesome chef.” She pauses in thought and then declares, “And your cooking. Strictly for research purposes. I do need to know my client in order to promote his skills properly.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to make a joke about her knowing all my skills.

“That’s true. I agree with everything you’ve said, even if I don’t like some of it.

I appreciate your help and professionalism.

Full honesty, I’m attracted to you. I was thinking about you in the shower, and it’s going to be hard to fight it, but I promise to try and behave. ”

She rolls her eyes. “You can’t help yourself, can you?

You’re just full of flattery. Listen, that’s what gets you into trouble.

The interviews you do. The people you interact with.

” Lisa inhales a deep breath. “It’s easy to misinterpret your intentions.

Innocent or not, you’re leading people on or coming off as a brazen horndog. ”

“Horndog?”

“Basically. You flirt with anyone with a pulse.”

“And is of legal consent. Please. I’m not completely shameless.

” I ignore how hurt I am by her assumptions.

She’s not wrong, but she’s not completely correct either.

A lot of my interviews have been taken out of context.

Videos of me were manipulated to appear far steamier than what had really happened.

It’s not my fault people have made reels of me licking icing or slowing down footage of my hands rolling out dough.

They’re the perverts, not me. Well, not only me.

Her face is serious except for one brow being raised. “I really want this opportunity. And I don’t quite understand it, but I have a feeling we could make a good team.”

“That’s part of the fun in life.”

“Having a good team?”

“Not understanding it. Blind faith. Mystery.”

“That’s the worst! I hate not knowing or understanding something. Anyway”—she extends her hand—“let’s get to work, partner.”

“Partner.” I take her hand in mine, and the touch sends a shiver down my spine.

I’d love nothing more than to observe and commit every feature of her face to memory, but I know if I hold her hand any longer, she’ll become uncomfortable.

It’d be inappropriate. Unprofessional. Creepy.

All words that would send her packing. I release her hand and excuse myself to go put on some clothes.

As I’m pulling the zipper up on my pants, the bathroom door rattles from what sounds like an ogre beating it down. “What did you do?!” Lisa rages.

I quickly unlock the door and swing it open. “What? What?”

She holds her phone screen up. “It’s everywhere. You raged out on a passenger for taking too long through security?”

“No, no, no. That’s certainly not what happened. He was being a jerk to the airport security and holding everyone up. I offered help. I tried to diffuse the situation. I gave the guy a simple solution.”

“Did you cuss him out and resort to name calling him? And then had your bodyguard go after him?”

Unbelievable. I hate social media.

“You know what? Whatever. It doesn’t matter what I said or did. It’s out there and everyone’s already made up their mind about me.”

Lisa sighs. “We’ll fix it. I believe you. We’ll get good press out there. We’ll show people who really are.”

“They don’t want that. I also made friends with a little girl who I promised to dedicate siren cupcakes to and gave out an autograph. Nobody recorded that. It happened five seconds after that douchebag.”

“Finish getting dressed. We have work to do.”

Before we go to meet with a representative from the network, Lisa and I sit down in the living area of our suite. She wants to go over a content plan for my socials. While she’s been asking me lots of questions, I’d like to ask a couple of my own about her.

“What made you choose public relations?”

She twists her lips and then answers, “I’ve always been a hype girl.

I don’t enjoy being in the spotlight, but I love showcasing someone else.

I enjoy being the person who is in your corner and your biggest supporter.

I want to take all of my clients to the next level, to help them reach their full potential. ”

“Wow. I’m sold. I was already, but now I’m even more excited.”

Lisa is all about others. She doesn’t even realize how much more endearing that makes her. Watching her talk about her passion for elevating others is one of the hottest things I’ve ever witnessed. I understand what it’s like to want to bring others joy; I do it with my recipes.

Lisa chews the corner of her lip as color enters her cheeks. She said she doesn’t like being the center of attention, so my praise has made her uncomfortable.

“Thank you.” Her voice comes out as a gentle whisper. However, when she speaks again, it’s firm and carries no nonsense.“If there’s one thing you’d like to get out there in the world, what would it be?”