“No one. It’s all part of the plan. Make him jealous. Get him to come up with the idea about Operation Bang It Out,” I said.
“I’m so here for this, but I don’t think this is the way to go about it.” Montana shrugged. “I think you could just suggest it. Pretending you have a date seems like a bad idea.”
“Just trust me. Charles is a complicated man. I need to make him jealous and then let him come up with the idea to seduce me.” I kicked my feet up on the table, crossing my stilettos at the ankles as I popped a few Skittles in my mouth.
It’s game time.
Chapter Twelve
Charlie
I pulled the cornbread from the oven and set it on the stovetop just as my daughter squealed thirty decibels louder than any human should be able to.
“Vi’s here!”
I stirred the tortilla soup and turned around as the little hellion came through the back door. My eyes bulged out of my head as I took her in, and I did what I could to act unbothered.
She was wearing a pair of fitted jeans and a red fitted shirt that slid off one of her shoulders. She wore sky-high black boots, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck.
My mouth watered at the sight of her exposed golden skin.
“Hey, Harps,” Violet said, her green gaze moving to mine, and I swear I stopped breathing for a minute.
She was too damn beautiful for her own good.
“You look so pretty. Are you ready to draw the balloons and eat some tortilla soup?” Harper asked as she jumped up and down.
“I think Violet has a date, so she’s not eating with us,” I said. I thought she’d been bullshitting me about the date when she texted earlier. She liked getting under my skin, or at least that’s what I’d assumed was happening at the time.
But now I was second-guessing myself.
Would she dress up and pretend to be going on a date, just to irritate me?
Either way, it was working.
“Well, I could eat a little bowl of soup while we sketch out the design.” Violet smirked before taking the seat at the table that had somehow become hers over the last few weeks.
“Aren’t you cooking for ...” I said, waiting for her to fill in the last part of the sentence.
“Of course. I’m cooking for my date,” she said, eyes locking with mine.
“Who is it?” I pressed, and she held my gaze.
“His name is ... Dav-eed. Daveed.” She dragged out the last syllable unusually long.
“Daveeeeed?” Harper mimicked her, and it took everything in me not to call bullshit and laugh.
“Yes.” Violet cleared her throat. “Daveed Beck ... art. Daveed Beckart. That’s his name.”
I set a bowl of soup down in front of each of them; the tortilla chips and shredded cheese were already on the table. I crossed my arms over my chest. “His name is Daveed Beckart? That’s quite a name.”
This was a stretch even for her.
“Yes. He’s here on a visa. He’s an international supermodel and a professional athlete.” She had a ridiculous smile on her face.
“What sport does he play?” Harper asked as I grabbed my bowl of soup and sat down.
“He plays several. Professionally, of course.” She shrugged before crunching a bunch of tortilla chips into her soup.
