“I know that. Of course, I know that. I wouldn’t either.”
Smooth.
“Do that.”
Idiot.
“To you. I’m sure your date is lovely. I’m bringing someone as well.”
“Emma.”
“Miller.”
His eyes tightened, and he gripped me harder. He was close enough for me to see the hazel flecks in his dark eyes.
“What’s your date’s name? I haven’t pre-approved anyone lately.”
Damn, this man and his cunningness.
“His name is Zach, if you must know, and I am capable of responding to messages on the app without your input.”
“Fine. I look forward to meeting him and will reserve my judgment of his worth until tomorrow.”
“Fine, and I’ll reserve my opinion of yourdateuntil tomorrow as well.”
“Super.”
“Fantastic.”
“Brilliant.”
I huffed, tucking my hair behind my ear as he stepped closer, reaching forward and grabbing my waist. My lips parted but refused to form words as my pulse fluttered. Perhaps he should argue with me about the double standard, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned down slowly as I breathed in, taking in the spicy scent of his cologne and the sweetness lingering from his coffee.
Lying about a date to Bev’s party was a disaster in the making, but between the headmaster and the not subtle threats from my father about not taking the new job opportunity seriously, something had to give. What was one more lousy date? At least I could go into this one not expecting anything but misery. The weight of my expectations felt like a physical presence on my chest, and I wondered—not for the first time—if this was the wisest decision for my future.
When Miller’s lips brushed my forehead, I bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t whimper at his close contact. Without another word, he left, and I pressed a hand to my stomach, knowing I needed to get my life together before this blasted party.
Chapter 10
As it turnedout, Zach, the date I invited under duress, was a complete imbecile. I knew there was a reason his name stuck out in my mind like an itch you couldn’t scratch—and it was not because of his witty personality. I’d been obsessively scrolling the three dating apps, convinced something was wrong with my profile introduction or picture, when I stumbled upon his messages.
Perhaps there was some weird algorithm at work that only matched me with people who had debilitating personality quirks. Stranger things had happened, and unless I was the unwilling star of a new reality show, this had to stop. My sanity and liver could not take much more.
Zach’s profile caught my attention for reasons such asonly wears jeans, so fancy girls need not apply. If there’s not a drink in my hand, be a doll and fetch me one.And my personal favorite,I promise I’m not a squirrel, so you must be the nut.
Who knew why I even bothered going to the trouble of inviting him to the party—besides the fact that I’d already committed to this farce by fibbing to one of my best friends. Was there something so terrible about me not having a date? Or did I not want to discourage Miller from bringing someone he was genuinely interested in?
Obviously, whatever our arrangement was couldn’t continue forever, but we’d both been single for so long, the idea of Miller getting involved with someone didn’t sit right with me. My brain continued to cycle on repeat that I was being a ridiculous hypocrite, but the irrational and much larger part of my personality said I could feel however I wanted—and if I chose to feel weird, then let my freak flag fly.
However my wonky body decided to feel, the uneasy sensation that crept into my stomach as I watched them talk from across the room was unwelcome. His hand rested lightly on the long, dark waves that cascaded down her back, caressing the fabric of her dress that ended well above her knee. I glanced at my feet, tugging on the hem of my much more conservative dress.
Not that I was a prude or had anything against showing a little skin, but I liked to focus on one asset per outfit. This dress had a dramatic neckline, plunging down between my breasts, and that, paired with the modest hemline and high heels, was plenty for a party mostly consisting of guests over the age of fifty.
I chewed on my lip then sighed, releasing the flesh from my teeth before I ruined my lipstick. I knew how his nimble fingers felt on my skin, knew how enticing he could make one innocent caress. His date simpered under his touch as a genuine smile spread across Miller’s face. I would know, recognizing the way the small laugh lines around his eyes stood out against his tan skin. That only happened when his smile got so wide it took over his features. I dug deep, past the dread in my stomach,and brought forth happiness on his behalf.
For him. For them. Together.
They looked good, standing close, wearing complementing colors, and giving each other casual touches. I could be happy for them—just like how Miller supported the revolving door of dates I’d had these last weeks. He didn’t have a problem voicing his opinion after letting me vent, but he never dissuaded me from continuing my pursuit.
