Four Day Fling Read online

  “No offense, Red, but you’re not gonna do that anytime soon.”

  “Of course I’m not. My relationship with my mother is based upon mutual tolerance and a somewhat unhealthy love of peanuts. I can’t be both nutty and sweet, Adam.”

  “I have no idea how to respond to that.”

  “You do what all good boyfriends do. You smile and nod like you understand, then grab my ass.”

  He smiled at me, nodded, then reached out and grabbed my ass. He smacked it, too.

  He learned fast.

  I nodded once. “Better. You’re learning.”

  “I’m learning?”

  “Yes. You’re learning. I like my boyfriends to be slightly possessive assholes so I can tell them off. That’s how I get my kicks.”

  “I don’t know if you’re fucking with me now or not.”

  “She fucks with everyone. That is how she gets her kicks,” my sister snapped, walking up to us. “Why aren’t you answering my texts?”

  My eyes widened, and I immediately dropped my sunglasses.

  “Why are you hiding your eyes?”

  “Sun’s in them,” I lied.

  “The sun is behind you.”

  “It’s reflecting off your watch. Who are you? The sunglasses police?”

  “Poppy! This is serious!” She dropped onto the sand in front of me. “Did she tell you that she changed my seating plan?”

  I locked my phone and put it into the flimsy material that made up my preferred beach purse. It wasn’t expensive, but the lining prevented sand getting in it, and since my screen was a tiny bit cracked… It spoke for itself.

  “She told me she was looking for the wedding planner,” I admitted wearily.

  “You didn’t stop her?”

  “Hey! I’m not a sumo wrestler. I told her you handled the seating plan personally and it was nothing to do with the planner, but she didn’t care.”

  “Great.” Rosie ran a hand through her hair and dropped her head forehead. “Poppy, do you understand how much of a mess this is? She’s meddling in things she has no business meddling in!”

  I wanted to quote Harry Potter, but I decided not to. I didn’t think it would go down well.

  “I understand,” I replied. “But really, what can I do? Stop her from finding the wedding planner?”

  “Yes!”

  “I was eating my breakfast!”

  “And food is more important than my wedding?”

  “When I’m starving and have been made to wait for this guy to take a run and shower? Yeah. Sorry, Ro. Nothing is more important than food.”

  Adam cleared his throat. “In my defense, I didn’t make you wait.”

  “You shut up.” I pointed my finger in his face. “You’re on my side.”

  My sister groaned and flipped her hair as she sat up. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “No, he’s my fake date. He can’t be on both our sides.”

  “Poppy!”

  “Rosie!”

  “You have to do something about our mother!”

  I stared at her for a second. “I can hire a hitman.”

  Adam choked on the mouthful of water he’d just taken.

  “I don’t want her dead,” Rosie said. “Just…sedated.”

  “You could get her drunk,” Adam suggested.

  Rosie’s eyes lit up.

  “No!” I scrambled and sat up on my towel. “No. I’m not getting her drunk. No way in hell am I doing that.”

  Rosie grabbed my hands and leaned forward. “Pleeeease, Pops. Please. I need her to go away for a few hours. She’s driving me crazy.”

  I looked her dead in the eye and said, “You’re driving me crazy.”

  “So? Get Mom drunk, then I’ll stop being crazy.”

  “I witnessed your sweet sixteen. I should have known to be sick the weekend of your wedding.”

  She pouted. “You’d never miss my wedding.”

  “I don’t know. If this is the start of it and it’s going to carry on like this, I’m going to get food poisoning tonight.”

  Rosie reached forward and grabbed my ear the way she used to when we were kids. Hard and tight and, kinda twisty. “You get food poisoning and I will finish you! I will bury you alive!”

  “Ah! Ah! Ahhh! Get off my ear, you bitch!” I wrestled her hand off my ear and cupped it. “Fine. No food poisoning. I’ll be there. The devoted sister. I’ll sing your praises—”

  “Please don’t actually sing.”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to break the windows.”

  “You can’t be that bad,” Adam said.

  “Ah,” Rosie sighed. “Spoken like a true fake boyfriend.”

  He cough-laughed. “Careful. We’re trying very hard to keep the fake thing a secret. Don’t give it up.”

  Rosie’s head swung side to side as she looked around. “There’s nobody around. Stop being so panicky. You’ll give up the ghost. Like the time Poppy tried to convince our parents the used condom in her room wasn’t her losing her virginity.”

  Adam slid me an amused glance. His lips tugged to one side and one of his dark brows quirked. “That’s a story I haven’t heard.”

  “Okay, first,” I said, holding a finger. “That is so not true. My virginity was disappointing. We’re talking ninety-seconds disappointing. I don’t even think I felt it. And the condom was not mine.” I finished by staring at Rosie.

  She rolled her eyes. “I was a wild one. I didn’t do it on her bed, and she was still a virgin then, but it was fun watching her work her way out of that.”

  Adam’s expression didn’t falter. He still smirked at me.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” I snapped.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m just thinking how unlucky the guy who stole your virginity was.”

  I glared at him.

  My sister swiped my bottle of cold water and took a sip, her eyes flitting between us both.

  “I mean—fuck. That came out wrong.”

  I snatched the bottle from Rosie. “Ya think?”

  Rosie’s phone rang. She grabbed it and silenced it, then looked back at us.

  “Don’t you need to answer that?” I said.

  “No. Not until he’s talked himself out of this. This will be his defining moment as your totally real boyfriend.”

  Good God. I needed to get out of here.

  Adam coughed into his hand and sat up. “I don’t feel comfortable clarifying this in front you, Rosie.”

  “Why? I’m not a virgin. I pushed a human out of my vagina in front of a room full of people. You can’t embarrass me.”

  He rubbed his hand over his stubbled jaw, finishing with one swipe of his thumb over his full lower lip. “All right.” His eyes slid to me, his hand still cupping his jaw, thumb still positioned dangerously close to his mouth. “He missed out because he’ll never know how damn good you are at sucking cock.”

  My jaw dropped open.

  So did Rosie’s.

  “I—” She paused, scooting back on the sand. “I need to, um, hide from Mom. Okay. Bye now.” With her cheeks bright red, she scrambled up and ran across the hot, soft sand until she was out of our earshot.

  I smacked Adam’s arm. “Why the fuck did you say that? You have no idea about my cock-sucking abilities!”

  “I know.” He grinned, eyes dancing with laughter. “But she doesn’t know that I don’t know. And it got rid of her, didn’t it?”

  “Yes, but—but—” I sputtered. “That’s not the point!”

  “It is. Look at this way. She came here to convince you to distract your mom. You didn’t agree. I got you out of jail.”

  “I—” I had nothing to say to that.

  “See?” He held out his hands and shrugged. “It worked. You didn’t promise her anything, so you’re not obligated to anything except keeping your mom amused during the cocktail tasting session.”

  “You…are a genius.”

  “
I captained a team of men to the Stanley Cup last season,” he said simply. “And I grew up with four sisters and didn’t die.”

  “I have more respect for the latter. I grew up with one and we almost killed each other at least a dozen times.”

  “In total? That’s pretty good.”

  “No. A month. I almost started a fire when I left her curling iron on while she slept.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “She stole my journal. I burned her favorite bear in the process.”

  “How are you still best friends?”

  I shrugged. “Hormones.”

  “Fair enough.” He paused. “But I still got your ass out of jail. Now, you owe me.”

  “You don’t have a lot of time to cash in whatever it is that I owe you. You’re on a timer, remember?”

  “I know.” His lips quirked to the side, and he stole the water the same way my sister had and took a mouthful before he capped it and stuck the bottle back in the sand. “I figure you’ll make it up to me.”

  I eyed him for a second, then moved onto my knees on the hot sand between our towels. My toes dug until they found the colder, wetter sand, and my hand cupped the back of his neck so I could kiss him.

  My lips found his as if they had a radar. It was easy. Too easy. Too simple for my mouth to find his and kiss him. As if my lips were made to find his.

  Adam gripped my hip, pulling me closer, sliding his other hand up my back. My left hand fell to his left leg, my nails digging into his tanned thigh.

  I teased my tongue against his lips, teasing him, begging him to let me into his mouth. He did, answering my deep kiss with the same vigor I attacked him with.

  Sparks danced across my skin, and maybe it was the hot sun beating down on us, or maybe it was the way his fingers spread across my bare back, but not a second of it felt wrong.

  Not a second felt fake.

  It felt real.

  Very, very real.

  I dragged my teeth across his lower lip and pulled back, moving to my towel.

  “Good answer,” Adam muttered, adjusting his shorts as he lay back down.

  “I know,” I said, making sure my sunglasses were in place. “If I can do that to your mouth with my tongue, imagine what I can do to your cock.”

  His rough groan was all I needed.

  So was the way he tugged at his waistband as he rolled onto his stomach.

  I glanced at him, biting the inside of my cheek.

  I guess he just learned a valuable lesson about fucking with a redhead.

  Spoiler: You don’t fuck with a redhead.

  CHAPTER EIGHT – POPPY

  Redheads and Devilheads

  I always wondered what I’d look like as a Funkopop. Random, I know, but I wondered if they’d ever accurately capture my boobs. I wasn’t exactly a Pamela Anderson, but if anything ever needed immortalizing, it was my boobs.

  God only knew nobody wanted my attitude to be infinite.

  Not even I wanted that.

  However, my attitude was what was going to get me through this damn wedding. My grandpa had landed and was, at my dad’s last phone call, yelling at the airport workers to find out where his suitcase was.

  Fifty bucks said it was on the baggage carousel.

  In fact, I’d wager a hundred. I was just that sure. Mostly because I knew the drill. Last Christmas, I’d been the one tasked with getting him from the airport and delivering him safely to my parents’ house.

  Guess what? He’d yelled at the airport people, and I’d found his baggage exactly where it should have been. On the carousel, making its way around.

  Now, I sighed and brushed my curls around to one side, over my shoulder, and stared into the mirror. To braid or not to braid? That really was the question. To topknot or not to topknot? That was the other one.

  Did I risk them getting uber frizzy at the hottest part of the day or did I get proactive and knot them up before my hair could decide for me?

  I blew out another breath and flipped my head forward, then gathered my thick hair up. Straightening my back, I teased my bangs out of the mass and tied my hair up loosely. Another hair tie swept the ponytail into a topknot that was beautifully messy.

  Huh.

  I bet I couldn’t do that again if I tried.

  “Ready?” Adam strolled out of the bedroom, playing with the button on his shorts.

  “For lunch with my mother?” I turned and stared at him, expressionless. “I’m thrilled.”

  He laughed and adjusted the short sleeve of his white shirt. “It’s what—an hour? Then she’ll be back snapping at your sister’s ankles. Surely you can give Rosie a break for sixty whole minutes.”

  “Oh no. I’ve done that guilt trip my entire life. I’m not getting it from my fake boyfriend, too.” I waggled my finger at him before turning back to the mirror to finish my makeup. “And yes, I can give her a break, but it doesn’t mean I need to be happy about it.”

  “Do you ever get along?”

  “Yes. When I’m in Orlando and she’s in Key West.”

  “I mean when you’re together.”

  “In the same room together, or having a conversation together?”

  “Now you’re just being awkward, Red.”

  I brushed a final stroke of mascara over each of my eyes, then stopped, wand in hand, and met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “Given how you ended up here, I would have thought you knew that awkward was my default mode.”

  “That was cute-awkward. This is attitude-awkward.”

  “How do you know there’s a difference?”

  He pointed at himself. “Four sisters. I grew up with attitude-awkward. I could recognize it blindfolded with hands cuffed behind my back from two hundred miles away.”

  “Wow. Someone’s cocky.”

  “I thought we established that the night we met.”

  My cheeks flushed. Damn it. Why did I have to blush like an idiot? Oh, that’s right. I was a redhead and so pale I was a distant relative of Casper the Friendly Ghost, which meant you could see my blushing a mile off.

  “You’re adorable when you blush.” Adam grinned.

  “Thank God,” I drawled. “That was my life goal. Be adorable. Now, I can get it in neon lights over my bed.”

  “Will they be black to match your soul?”

  “Red, actually.”

  “To match your hair?”

  “No. Red to match your blood when I murder you in your sleep.” I put the wand back in the tube and put it in my makeup bag.

  “I’ll keep it in mind. And hide all the sharp objects.”

  I turned, leaning against the sink. “Who said I needed a sharp object?”

  “You’re right.” He walked over to me, trapping me against the counter with his body. His fingertips grazed my knuckles as his hands clamped onto the counter and gave me no means of escape. “Hockey pucks are deadly. I’ve seen them slam into people more times than you can imagine.”

  “I always told my parents, sports are dangerous.”

  “Is that why you don’t follow them?”

  “No. I don’t follow them because I literally do not care about them.”

  He blinked at me for a second before his lips curled and laughter burst from him. His forehead rested on my shoulder, and his entire body shook with his amusement at my words.

  “Did I make a joke I don’t understand?” I asked, moving as if I could look at his face.

  “No,” he chuckled, straightening and looking at me. “Your honesty is so refreshing. Every time it comes up, it makes me believe a little bit more, that you really have no idea.”

  “Are you saying I lied?”

  “Don’t twist my words.”

  “Shit. I hate it when people catch me on that.” I paused. “I have no idea. I thought the Stanley Cup was football until I met you. I don’t know what to call it when you score. A goal? A try? A point?”

  Adam scratched his stubbled chin. “Wow. You really are completely spor
t-ignorant, aren’t you?”

  “You’re a smart man to put ‘sport’ in front of ‘ignorant.’”

  “You’re a redhead and you’re getting ready to have lunch with your mother, who you don’t get along with. I can honestly tell you I have no intentions of making you angry. I would also like to get out of this lunch in one piece, preferably with my sanity intact.”

  Tilting my head to the side, I raised my hand to his cheek. Ah. Spiky. Why was that hot?

  “Oh, honey,” I said slowly. “You think you’re going to leave this weekend with any sanity at all. That’s so cute.”

  “Did you just call me honey?”

  “Would you prefer I reverted to Hockey Boy?”

  “No, actually. I wouldn’t.”

  “All right. Hockey Boy it is.” I kissed his cheek and, with one quick shove of his arm, made my escape. I slid my feet into my flip-flops with a giggle and grabbed my phone and purse from the bed.

  Adam sighed behind me. “You know what you are?”

  “A pain in the ass? Sarcasm personified? Queen of Sass?”

  “Yes, yes, and yes,” he replied. “You’re also the internet troll everyone assumes is a twenty-something gamer living in his mom’s basement.”

  “That might be the nicest compliment anyone’s ever given me.”

  “Don’t get excited. It wasn’t a compliment.”

  “Then you need better insults, because five-year-olds at recess have you beat. Hockey Boy.” Another grin and I twirled into the main room of the suite. “Come on. My grandpa will be here after lunch, then you’ll really see how crazy my family is.”

  “It gets worse?”

  “Oh, yeah. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  Adam pulled the door open and held it for me to walk through. “You know, if it weren’t for the sex, I might be regretting this entire weekend right about now.”

  “You know, if it weren’t for the sex, I would definitely be regretting this entire weekend,” I replied. “Come on. Let’s go. Satan can only last so long on the surface before she gets too cold and has to go back underground.”

  “How the hell did you survive past your teenage years?”

  “Avoided my mother as much as possible and left for college the minute I was able.”

  “Write a guide for teens on surviving those seven horrible years. You’ll make millions.”