“Nice place,” I say, dropping my bag at the door and taking a better look around.
“Mateo!” she huffs. “You can’t just barge in and—”
“And what? Spend the night with my fiancée?”
“Yes!” she says, folding her arms over her chest.
“I think I can,” I say, strolling in the direction of the open-plan kitchen. “I bet this kitchen doesn’t see much action,” I add, pulling open the refrigerator door and surveying the contents. Inside there’s an open bottle of pinot grigio and a block of cheese that would probably offend rats. Thank God I bought groceries.
“Mateo!” she says my name again. I like the sound of it on her lips, even when it’s exasperated like now. “Get out of my damn kitchen!”
“Or what? You’ll throw something at me? Please don’t throw that cheese.” I straighten. “Good thing I bought food.”
“Food!” she says the word like it’s offensive.
“You don’t have any,” I reply, stating the obvious as I step out the door to where I’d set a couple of bulging grocery bags.
“Well, it’s not as if I’ve had a chance to go out to the store yet,” she mutters. “We landed just a few hours ago, and then I had to see Nikki. Not to mention that I’d been planning on leaving town before that whole fuck-up. If things had gone according to plan, I’d have tenants moving in next week.” She rubs a hand over her eyes. “Thank God I managed to cancel their lease.”
“You realize that those goons might come back anytime, right?” I say as I set the bag on the kitchen counter. I don’t really believe it. I’m pretty certain I made my position clear to her father during that disastrous lunch. Though I wouldn’t put anything past Mark Whitlock.
“You don’t think they’d—?” she starts, then stops abruptly, glancing at the open door, then dashing over and slamming it shut.
“Who knows?” I shrug, peering around the room again to get a better lay of the land. It’s a spacious two-bed apartment. Decent-sized kitchen opening onto a dining area that overlooks her living space. The furnishings are good quality, and the back wall is dominated by a giant flatscreen. Expensive drapes frame a view out of floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s a high-end place. And I get the feeling she paid for it herself. This woman wouldn’t take a hand-out from that dickwad father of hers. I take a turn past her, snag my bag, and make my way to what I presume is her bedroom.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she demands.
“Where does it look like?” I ask.
“You can’t just barge into my room like that!” she squawks. “And you’d better not be thinking you’re sleeping in my bed!”
“You’re kidding, right?” I say as I unzip my bag. “We’ve been joined at the hip for the better part of the week. You’re getting prissy about it now?” There’s a pair of suitcases nearby that she’s obviously recently unpacked. The drawer of her bedside table is hanging open, and I glance in, then feel my eyebrows shoot up.
“Hey!” she snaps, shooting past me and sliding the drawer shut abruptly. It’s too late, though. I’ve already seen the contents.
“Jesus, that’s quite a collection,” I mutter as I unpack my bag.
“I can’t believe you’ve barged in here expecting to stay over, and now you’re snooping through my things!”
“Hardly snooping,” I respond. “That drawer was wide open. And I’m disappointed.”
“What? What the fuck do you mean by that?”
“You said my cock was the biggest you’ve ever had. I’m pretty sure that purple number in there is a solid 12-inches; I can’t compete,” I say. “And just how many dildoes does one woman need, anyhow?” I clear a shelf in her closet and set a pile of neatly folded shirts and trousers on it. When I turn to face her, her cheeks are scarlet. “Meanwhile, what were your tenants going to think about that shit when they moved in?”
“Those- those things were packed away, d-dammit!” she stutters. “I literally just took them out.”
“So, you had enough time to get your sex toys out of storage but not buy groceries?” I ask. “Interesting priorities.”
“Screw you!” She actually stomps her foot this time. It’s almost impossible to stifle the grin that’s threatening to erupt. She’s fucking edible.
Which reminds me…
“I’ll get dinner going,” I say, moving back to the kitchen.
“Ugh! You are the most impossible man!” she snaps as I begin unpacking the grocery bags. I stop what I’m doing and level her with a stare.
“You realize that this whole charade will collapse like a house of cards if we can’t convince the world that we’re a regular couple,” I say to her.
