“I don’t know,” I muse as I head for the stairs. “I kind of like the small-town vibe. You know they only have one inn here?”
I don’t really know why I said that, I guess maybe I want Bradley to know that I at least went looking for somewhere else to stay after the car broke down, rather than coming here. But I’m not entirely sure he’s intuitive enough when it comes to women to figure that out.
“Uhm, Nick?” he asks, eyeing me in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“Yes, Bradley?” I reply, my voice dripping with sass.
“Where’d you get the shirt?”
I look down and realize I’m wearing the mechanic’s shirt, tied up around my waist like a cheerleader. If only he knew that a couple of hours ago I was lying on my back on his couch with my legs up above my head, his filthy hands all over me while he tongue-fucked my clit. I feel myself blushing, shrug and turn away.
“Found it,” I say, leaving it at that.
I start to head upstairs, wanting more than anything to just get up to my room and bury myself in my sketchbook, when my mom races up behind me and grabs my hand.
“Don’t forget tomorrow!” she says happily. I can smell the red wine on her breath. “It’s cake day!”
I pull away from her and head upstairs to my room, shut and lock the door, and slump down on the bed. I feel like I’ve just crash landed back down to reality from the almost out-of-body experience I had. I’d never met a man that even came close to him.
Bradley looks at me like a new horse he just bought from a breeder; I’m his property and he has some kind of right to me because he has my adopted mom’s approval. The sexy mechanic, on the other hand, looked at me like had a right to me…because. It was like he wanted to take me, show me that he owned me, simply by being him. And as I lie back and look at the ceiling, I realize he’s sparked something inside of me—a desire that feels like it comes from the depths of my existence—something I had no idea was even in me.
I’m excited, but I’m also terrified. My life already has a set course; nothing is going to change it. I’m going to marry Bradley and there’s nothing I can do about it. Even if I wanted him to, it’s not like he’s about to man up and propose to me or something, rescue me from my future.
I know this. But I still can’t help myself from thinking…
What if?
6
Ni
cky
“Mmmm, buttercream! I simply adore buttercream! Don’t you, Bradley?”
Bradley looks up from his phone, completely disinterested, and shrugs at my mom, who is sampling a spoonful of frosting from the girl behind the counter. She’s obviously a small-town girl and is doing her best to hide the fact that she clearly knows that we’re from out of town…
…and from money.
“Come here and try this, sweetie,” she tells me, motioning to me like I’m a Pomeranian wearing a pink fluffy collar. I try not to mope as I walk over to her. I try to take the spoon, but she shakes her head and moves it toward my mouth like she’s feeding a toddler.
“Really?” I frown.
“Open wide!” she smiles. It’s probably better just to go along with it than start an argument in the shop, so I do, and she clinks the spoon against my front teeth before scooping it up and leaving a huge clump of frosting on my tongue. I nod and force a smile.
“Yeah, it’s good,” I tell her.
“Great, isn’t it!?” she asks enthusiastically. I mean – it is good – but I also know my mom is convinced it’s the best in the store, because when we came in, she asked the girl behind the counter what the most expensive icing they had was. And this was it.
“We’ll take it!” she says, turning to the girl.
“Okay, would you like to go over the actual cake you’d like?” she asks. “We have lemon, vanilla, red velvet—”
“I’m going to step outside for a moment,” Bradley says, bored out of his mind. “You girls go on without me.”
Gladly. I hear the door chimes as he leaves, and can’t help wondering how the gruff mechanic would conduct himself if he was here right now. Would he actually pretend to be interested? I can’t see a grubby mechanic, an alpha like him, suffering through something like this. But then again, maybe he has a sweet side I haven’t seen yet. Maybe he actually knows how to bake and would hand-make us a wedding cake!
I laugh to myself and shake my head. Don’t be silly, Nicky. My mom glances over at me and frowns.