“I need to get going,” Grandma says, choked up with emotion. “There’s still so much to do before the party, but I’ll see you soon, okay? I can’t wait to see you and Clay!”
I swallow hard. “We’ll be there.”
“Perfect. Bye, honey.”
The call ends, and I slump back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
What the heck do I do now?
Grandma’s party starts at two, which means I have six hours to either figure out a solution or flee the country and never show my face again.
I should have just hit the freakin’ squirrel.
My mind is racing with excuses that I could tell Grandma, but none of them will cut it. I’m still thinking hard when my phone starts buzzing with texts from my cousin Aria, a string of them arriving at once.
Grandma says you’re dating Clay Benson?
Thorne’s neighbor?
So happy for you!
Call me asap ??
My attention snags on her second text, and something stutters in my chest.
Thorne’s neighbor.
Thorne and Aria live up on Cherry Mountain, and I’ve been to their cabin a few times. If Clay really is Thorne’s neighbor, his place shouldn’t be too hard to find…
An idea is forming in my mind, crystallizing like frost on a windowpane. It’s not agoodidea. Heck, I’ve read enough romance novels to know it’s a very, very bad idea. But right now, I can’t see another option.
I need Clay to be my boyfriend.
Just for a few hours—long enough to get through Grandma’s party without ruining her whole day. Then we can quietly “break up” and go our separate ways. Grandma will still be disappointed, but at least it won’t ruin her birthday and the party she’s been planning for weeks.
My mind buzzes with the idea as I get out of bed, heart fluttering like a bird behind my rib cage. I wasn’t expecting to see Clay ever again. The bitter thought kept me up last night, tossing and turning with a hollow feeling in my gut. Now I’m going to show up at his door and ask him to date me for a day.
He’ll almost definitely say no.
Heck, I’m sure he has better things to do than pretend to date the woman who hit him with her car yesterday, but I still feel a heady thrill of excitement at the thought of seeing him again.
I really shouldn’t be so drawn to this man.
He’s twice my age and barely said two words to me yesterday—not exactly the kind of Prince Charming I write about in my romance books. But as I hop in the shower, I can’t stop thinking about him. His hulking frame towering over everything as we walked into the hospital. His thick muscles bulging against his shirt. His ruggedly handsome face, scowling and bearded.
I shiver despite the heat of the water. Desire pulls tight inside me, my nipples hardening as I take the showerhead off the wall and guide it between my thighs. The water pulses hard against my clit, and a shaky moan escapes me, steam rising all around as I think of Clay. I can almost see those vivid blue eyes drilling into me, his giant body moving on top of mine.
This is wrong,a tiny part of my brain says.
I shouldn’t be thinking about a stranger like this.
But all my logic crumbles as I lean back against the shower wall, my orgasm blooming fast. I tug on my pebbled nipple, whining with pleasure.
“Clay…”
I moan his name, eyes squeezing shut as I come. Hot water streams down my thighs, my core throbbing with my release until I’m spent and shaky. Breathing hard, I clean myself up, running soapy hands over my skin as I come back to myself.
Crap.
