I glance around. Once again, I’m trapped with him and have no way to escape. “You keep kidnapping me.”
“Jesus, I didn’t kidnap you,” he growls, and I look around.
“I’m stuck on a small object in the middle of a lake. Where am I going to go?”
“If you wanted to get away, you could swim.”
“Or I could just shove you into the water and take the jet ski back to the dock.”
“You could try,” he taunts, and when I let go of the seat, his eyes flash. “I dare you.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Christ, you make me insane.” He scrubs his fingers through his hair, looking as annoyed with me as the day we met. “Now, about that kiss.”
Heat spreads up my neck to my cheeks at the mention of it, and I shake my head again. “That kiss should not have happened. I get why it did. I mean, a normal couple might kiss like that when bickering. But we are not a normal couple, and it’s more obvious now than it ever was before that we need boundaries.”
“Boundaries,” he repeats, and I nod.
“Yes, boundaries, so that doesn’t happen again. Ever… again.”
“What would you suggest the boundaries be?” he asks, and I look down at my thighs that feel suddenly hot and find his hand there, his fingers imprinting themselves into my skin.
“No touching.” I push his hands away.
“So I can’t touch my fiancée.” He gives me a disbelieving look. “How’s that going to work this week?”
“You can rest your hand on my back, hold my hand, and kiss the side of my head or my cheek if you need to.”
“If I need to.” He chuckles, and I let my head fall back on my shoulders.
“Appropriate PDA, Jace, and nothing more,” I tell him—and myself, because I should not know how huge he is, what he tastes like, and I really should not have his heartbeat memorized like it’s my new favorite song. “Now are we on the same page?”
“Sure,” he says easily.
“Great.” I let out a relieved breath.
“Except…”
“Oh, Lord, now what?”
“If you were really my fiancée, Penny—” He stands, and I tip my head back as he towers over me, then lean back when he leans in. “I wouldn’t accept just holding your hand and kissing you on the cheek. Fuck appropriate PDA.”
“What does that mean?”
He doesn’t answer. He maneuvers himself around so that he’s facing the handlebars once more, then his eyes meet mine over his shoulder. “Hold the fuck on to me.”
I do immediately, and as soon as my hands are wrapped around his waist, the motor starts back up, and we’re off.
We arrive at a long dock with a few boats and jet skis tied to it what seems like forever later, and Jace slows down and drifts into an empty spot. Once he comes to a stop, he hops off and hooks us to a post, then reaches out for my hand. I take his and awkwardly make my way onto the dock, then slip off my life vest, passing it over to him and ignoring the way my stomach feels when his eyes get stuck on my chest.
When he has both our jackets tucked away safe, he takes my hand in his, and we walk toward a trail that leads into the forest, where I can hear music playing and smell what can only be described as heaven. The closer we get, the louder the music becomes, and before long, we step into a clearing where there is a food truck parked with picnic tables set up under the canopy of trees.
There’s not hundreds of people about, but there are more than a couple dozen, most of them our age. Some look like teenagers, but everyone is dressed similar to Jace and me.
“What are you going to get?” he asks when we reach the food truck, and I look over the menu, but it’s difficult to focus on it when I swear all my concentration is centered on my hand that is still being held tightly by his.
“I don’t know. What are you having?”
“Burger, chips, soda.”
“I’ll do the same.” I shrug, and he walks us to the window, where an older couple is working inside the truck. After we place our order, I dislodge my hand from his and grab each of us a soda from a cooler, then follow him to an empty table.
“Did you come here a lot when you were a kid?” I ask, looking around when we’re seated across from each other.
“When we had the money to, Brice and I would come here for lunch.”
“And to pick up girls,” I say, noticing that more than one woman is checking him out.
“And to pick up girls.” He smirks, and I can’t help but smile. He’s a good-looking man now, and I bet he was the same as a teenager.
“I bet you guys drove your mom crazy.”
“A little.” He reaches across the table, and I lean back when his finger gets near my face. “Hold still.” His fingers move under my eye, across my cheek. “Make a wish.”
“What?” I go cross-eyed trying to see what’s between his large fingers.
“It’s an eyelash. Make a wish.”
Oh.
Closing my eyes, I start to make the same wish I’ve made since my mom was diagnosed, then remember I don’t need to do that anymore.
“Damn, you take wishes seriously.” I hear the smile in his voice as I come up with a new wish, then lean in and blow the lash away. “What did you wish for?”
“I can’t tell you,” I say, then look over my shoulder when our number is called.
“I got it.” He gets up and walks over to the truck, and I watch every single female around sit up a little taller. Even the teenage girls who have no business looking at a man his age point and giggle amongst each other.
He doesn’t notice any of them, or maybe he’s just so used to being the center of attention that it doesn’t faze him anymore. Really, I can’t imagine being him, having everyone constantly seeking my attention or approval. When I first met him, I would have sworn he loved it, loved having everyone constantly bending to his will, but now…
Now, I don’t know what to think about my fake fiancé.
Chapter 16
Screwed
“Aunt Penny, do you want this one?” Dash asks in his sweet little voice, holding out a brown—to the point of black—marshmallow on the end of a stick in my direction. I don’t know who told him that he should call me Aunt Penny, but the first time he said it this evening, I almost passed out.
I knew going into this that I would have to lie, but it feels really wrong to lie to a kid. Especially one as sweet as he is. Heck who am I kidding I hate lying to everyone.
“Sure.” I lean forward in my seat, careful of the red solo in my hand, and take the stick from him. As soon as I have it in my grasp, he’s on the move back to his grandma, who’s been loading his sticks for him. So far, he’s had twelve failed attempts at browning the perfect marshmallow for his consumption. Or maybe he’s just ruining them all on purpose so he can continue to play with the fire that Daniel started when the sun began to set. My guess is the latter.
“Where is Jace?” At that question from Janet, I look in her direction.
“He’s inside, working.” I wrap the sweater I have on tighter around my shoulders.