Home > Hard Love (Trophy Boyfriends #3)(42)

Hard Love (Trophy Boyfriends #3)(42)
Author: SARA NEY

Which is most days during the season.

Tonight there’s a smaller lasagna in my fridge—one I didn’t notice before. A tiny, square pan that screams, Mr. Bitterman, single, party of one.

Except tonight I have company.

Except that we’ve already eaten dinner and dessert.

I push the plate of Molly’s cookies to the side—out of sight, out of mind—despite wanting another one. Then again, better not; the kid is probably trying to poison me so she has more access to my dog.

The silence between Chandler and me lingers, but it isn’t strained. It’s comfortable to the point I feel my tense shoulders drop, my mouth curving up. Unlike most women I meet, she isn’t trying to force the conversation, the moment, or my hand. Not that she’s the type to hit on a man—quite the opposite, unless of course you count her climbing on top of me on the street and kissing me senseless.

I wonder what it would be like to kiss her again, kiss those wine-soaked lips.

“Thanks for the ride home,” I finally say, leaning against the counter, elbows braced on the cold stone, glass in my hands.

“Um, that was a setup.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s what my family does—railroads you into things you didn’t plan on doing.” With people you had no intention of being stuck with. With a woman you didn’t realize you might slowly grow to like.

Funny how that works.

“So you knew that was what was happening?”

Is she serious? “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but my mother and brother are the king and queen of playing matchmaker.”

Chandler looks genuinely baffled by this information. “You don’t actually think…they couldn’t possibly…”

I let out a pfft and roll my eyes. “Please—the whole world saw you kissing me on the ground. Of course my mother is going to think you want me.”

Now she looks affronted. “Excuse me? I do not want you.” Her spine straightens. “In fact, what the whole world saw was you on top, kissing me—so there.”

Point to Chandler.

“What they saw was two people making out in the rain.”

Point to me.

She chuckles into her glass. “After they saw me toss you on your ass.”

Point to Chandler.

“The world doesn’t know you did it twice.”

Point to me.

“The world also doesn’t know I kissed you first, because you’re too set on celibacy to do it yourself.”

Did she just imply that I live like a monk? How the hell would she even know I’m not banging chicks every night of the week?

I could be if I wanted to!

…if I wanted to.

Which I don’t.

But I could!

I push off the counter to my full height, sputtering. “What did you just say to me?”

Chandler snorts into her glass. “You heard me.”

“You have some nerve.”

She laughs. “Hey, calm down—I’m teasing. Don’t you know how to take a joke?”

No. Not now. Not now that I know what that smart mouth feels like against mine…hot and wet and hot.

More intoxicating than the wine in my glass.

I set it down, stone tinging against the fragile crystal. Advance toward her, intent on—

“Whoa baby, you could cut this sexual tension with a knife.” Molly and Chewy are entering the kitchen and she bends to unsnap the leash from his collar, letting him race to his water bowl for hydration.

Fucking Molly, sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.

I grimace at her. “Aren’t you a little young to know what sexual tension is?”

“I’m fifteen.”

“Exactly. You’re still playing with Barbie dolls.”

Molly flips her long blonde ponytail and skewers me with a look only a teenager could manage. “Oh my god, you are so out of touch with reality.”

Chandler laughs.

“You know what you should do?” Molly is glancing back and forth between the pair of us.

“No, but I bet you’re going to tell us.”

The neighbor girl laughs as Chandler filches another chocolate from the candy bowl and peels back the wrapper.

“You should go out.”

My throat makes a sound. “We’ve been out.”

“Please, that was a publicity stunt and we all know it.”

Chandler laughs again, not helping the situation. Molly is worse than my brother, seizing the opportunity, holding us both hostage in my house. I won’t get the kid to leave until she’s said her piece.

“Anyway,” she goes on, voice laden with authority, “you should go on a date—a real one. Not one for the cameras.” The teenager gives me a look that lets me know she knows exactly what I’m up to. “Somewhere fun, where they won’t be following you around.”

Chandler is smiling, all cute and kind and placating. “Oh yeah? Like where?”

“I don’t know… Hmm, the pumpkin patch maybe? One that’s out of the city?”

I cross my arms. “I’m not going to a damn pumpkin patch.”

“You could take Chewy!” Molly enthuses. “Aww, it would be so cute to get pictures of him picking out a pumpkin.”

Okay fine, that would be cute.

I glance down at Chewy, suddenly imagining the little fella prancing in and out of jolly pumpkins while I snap pictures of him on my phone.

I could even get him a little costume and—

“You’re totally thinking about it, aren’t you?” Molly laughs. “Come on, Chandler, don’t you want to?”

I glance away from the dog and up at Chandler, who’s blushing from her cheeks to her hairline, rosy pink and quite…sweet.

Sweet.

Since when am I attracted to women who are sweet?

Since never.

Since…

I found out she wasn’t such an angel after all.

Not boring, not ordinary, not vomit-inducingly kind.

The perfect combination of sweet and salty.

“It’s fine, Molly.” Chandler bows her head, embarrassed. “We appreciate the suggestion, but no woman wants to have a man forced to take her out.” She pauses. “That’s a good lesson for you to learn—we want them to ask us out willingly.”

Is she implying that if Molly weren’t standing here berating us, she’d go on another date with me?

For a brief moment, we’re the only two in the kitchen. “You don’t want to go to the pumpkin farm with us?”

Chewy wags his tail in her direction.

Chandler peeks down at him. “I mean…are you asking?”

My shoulders shrug. “I could do a pumpkin farm.”

Molly squeaks. “Like on an actual date? A real one?”

I nod.

I mean—what’s the harm.

“You should say it out loud so it’s official.”

“Molly, I swear to go—”

She puts her hand in the air, cutting me off. “You need to lay off the pissed-off act. You’re making this way harder than it has to be.” Her lips purse. “Tripp, do you want to take Chandler on a date?”

“I guess.” (Insert metaphorical feet shuffling here.)

Molly cups her ear as if she couldn’t hear my answer. “I’m sorry, can you do better than that?”

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