That Kind of Guy: A Spicy Small Town Fake Dating Romance (The Queen’s Cove Series Book 1)

DINNER AND DESSERT WERE FINISHED, most of the guests had gone home, and there were a handful of us sitting in the living room, drinking and chatting when Wyatt pulled the lacy black underwear out of the couch. A few people turned to me with busted! expressions.

My stomach dropped through the floor.

“What’s this?” Wyatt asked, swinging the black scrap of lace around in the air.

Holden choked on his beer and started laughing. Emmett gave Wyatt a lazy, smug grin. “What do you think it is, genius?”

Everyone looked at me with big grins. My face was on fire and I shot Emmett a look I hoped conveyed you will pay for this.

“Somebody was getting busy on the couch,” someone sang.

I stood up. “Ha, ha, yes, oops. That’s where those went. I’m going to get another drink.”

Emmett stood and reached to grab the underwear out of Wyatt’s grasp, and I practically sprinted into the kitchen.

I leaned my butt against the counter and closed my eyes, exhaling. This thing with Emmett was getting out of control. His mom was coming wedding dress shopping with me. My gut twisted, thinking of how her eyes lit up. She was so excited. She didn’t have a daughter of her own, all she had was boys. Holden was a grump who couldn’t stand people, Wyatt only cared about surfing, and Finn didn’t stay in one place long enough to meet anyone, let alone get married, so I was her only shot at all the fun mother-in-law wedding stuff.

Mother-in-law.

I was such an asshole, leading Elizabeth and Sam on like this. They thought it was real. We’d done too good of a job convincing them, and now they were hooked.

Shit.

And that kiss.

Double shit.

I kept getting flashes of electricity down my spine. There’d been a pressure low in my belly since he grabbed me and kissed me. That kiss. I’d never had a kiss like that in my life. I’d seen kisses like that on the big screen and read about them in books but never even dreamed it could be like that.

I wanted to do it again.

I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself. This was getting out of control. I was getting out of control.

“Hey,” Emmett’s voice greeted me, and I opened my eyes.

“You rat,” I chided him, and he gave me a guilty grin and took the spot at the counter beside me. I ripped the underwear out of his hands.

“You know I’ll do what it takes to win. The look on your face when Wyatt pulled them out, it was worth that stupid turtle rescue,” he told me.

I couldn’t help myself, I laughed. “The look on your face in those pictures was worth my pretend underwear being whipped around the living room.”

He looked down at me and his gaze dropped to my mouth. “We’re even, for now.”

“I’m keeping them, you know,” I vowed with defiance.

“Oh, really?” His gaze lingered on my face, and there it was again, that zing down my spine. I took a steadying breath, but it didn’t do a thing to slow my accelerating pulse. “I bought those myself. You’re going to wear them?”

I didn’t answer. The conversation had slipped into dangerous territory, fast. This was all supposed to be fake, but this zingy, electric feeling didn’t feel pretend.

“What was that, earlier?” he asked in a low voice, still gazing at me. His eyes were darkening.

“What do you mean?” I was breathless. My chest was tight, like I was on the top of a roller coaster about to drop.

“That kiss. Why’d you kiss me like that?” He glanced down to my mouth and then back up to my eyes.

I gave a little laugh of disbelief. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

His gaze dropped again to my mouth and lingered there. He turned so he was leaning his side against the counter, facing me head-on. I looked away but he reached up and tilted my chin back to him. I couldn’t breathe, my body was so wound up and tense. When his fingers made contact with my jaw, I felt it right down between my legs.

“It was different,” he said.

All I could do was nod.

“You want to do it again?” he asked in a low voice. “For practice.”

Before I could finish nodding, his hands came to my hips and I gasped when he hoisted me onto the counter, facing him. He pushed my knees apart and my eyes widened at the expression on his face.

Motivated. His eyes were dark but focused. His gaze skimmed over me, not sure whether to look in my eyes or at my lips or along the neckline of my dress. His hands rested on the bare skin of my knees, and I could feel my underwear getting wet.

Holy shit, what was happening?

And why was I enjoying this so much?

His hands came back to my hips, he pulled me toward him, put his mouth on mine, and I melted.

Half of the tension inside me settled, and half only wound tighter. This was what I wanted, but I always wanted more. Making out on the kitchen counter like teenagers was all I needed, but the next second, I wanted more, faster, harder, less clothing, more skin. One of my hands fisted into his hair and he groaned and slid his tongue over mine. My other hand pulled his shirt tails out so I could skim my hand up what I thought might be—yes it was!—a ridged six-pack.

He pulled me to him harder, flush against him, and his hard length pushed against me.

“Oh my god,” I breathed into his mouth, and his erection pulsed against me.

He let out another groan. “Jesus Christ, Avery.”

There was something about how his hand was firmly in my hair, holding my mouth to his with no chance of escape, that made me very, very wet. His other hand came back to my knee, sliding up my inner thigh, closer to my center. I gasped. My body was on fire. I was about to explode.

“They’re in here, making a baby on the counter,” one of Emmett’s friends called at the doorway, and I jerked away from Emmett.

Emmett walked a few steps away and leaned over the counter. His back rose and fell with his heavy breathing. I slid off the counter to standing, opened the fridge, and for some reason, grabbed a bottle of hot sauce.

“I’m going to…” I trailed off. “Yeah.”

“I need a minute,” Emmett murmured into the counter with a strained voice.

I nodded. Yep. The memory of what he needed a minute for, pressed into me, was seared into my brain.

Back out in the living room, I placed the hot sauce on the table as everyone began clapping. “Found it.”

The party continued, and I spent the next few hours trying to act normal around Emmett. Once in a while, our gazes would meet and I’d feel another pulse between my legs, but I ignored it. This was an agreement. It wasn’t real, and I wasn’t supposed to be turned on like this. I tried to push the feelings aside, but when Emmett’s hand eventually rested on my ankle, I stood.

“I’m going to head home,” I told the group, not looking at him.

Emmett frowned and jumped up. “You’re leaving?”

I nodded. “I’m tired. Bye, everyone.”

I wasn’t tired. I worked in the restaurant industry, I was awake past midnight regularly, but I couldn’t sit here, remembering his mouth on mine and his hands in my hair. It was driving me nuts.

A round of goodbyes followed me from the living room to the kitchen, where I placed my glass in the dishwasher. Emmett was on my heels.

“I can’t believe you’re tired. What about all those late nights at the restaurant?”

Shit. Busted. I gave him a lopsided smile. “I’ve had enough socializing and lying”—I whispered the word—“for one night.”

Also, I was pretty sure if Emmett kissed me one more time tonight, I wouldn’t leave until morning. The thought was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.

He moved in front of me as I tried to exit the kitchen. “Why don’t you stay in the guest bedroom?”

“Because I don’t have all my stuff. This may come as a shock to you but I don’t wake up like this.” I gestured at my face and hair.

“I bet you’re cute when you wake up.” His tone was teasing and persuasive.

I narrowed my eyes at him. That kiss, and now this? “What’s gotten into you?”

The corners of his mouth rose in a wicked smile and he shrugged. “Just wondering.”

“Just wondering what?” I gave him a light push to move past him. He caught my hand and spun me around so I faced him.

“What it would be like.”

Another zing of electricity shot down my spine, and the pressure between my legs increased. Emmett looked down at me with that dark gaze I saw in the kitchen.

I wondered what it would be like, too. What his skin would feel like if I stripped his shirt off and ran my mouth down his flat stomach. What his tongue would feel like on my nipples. What it would feel like to stroke the hard length that pressed against me in the kitchen and feel him shudder.

I didn’t like this out-of-control, overwhelming urge. I’d never felt like this before. Sex was always just an itch to scratch but with Emmett, it was more. It felt like something I needed.

It felt dangerous.

I shivered and shook the thoughts out of my head. I was here for one reason—to fulfill my end of the bargain so I could get my restaurant. I wasn’t here to play house with the most attractive guy in town.

“I’m going home,” I told him firmly.

“Are you walking?” He frowned. “It isn’t safe.”

“It’s safe, I walk home from the restaurant all the time in the middle of the night.”

“There are cougars.”

I laughed and sighed. “I’ll call a cab.”

“No need,” Hannah cut in behind me. “I’ll drive you. I only had a glass of wine with dinner, I’m okay to drive.”

“Great. Thanks, Hannah.” I looked back at Emmett with raised eyebrows. “Happy?”

He nodded, but he was still frowning. “Next time, you stay in the guest bedroom.”

“Why would she stay in the guest bedroom?” Hannah asked, slipping her cream-colored Converse sneakers on.

My mouth fell open and Emmett and I exchanged an oops look.

“He meant his bedroom,” I told her.

He nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I call it. The guest bedroom.”

Hannah frowned in confusion, and when she stooped to put the other shoe on, I gave Emmett a what the hell? look.

“Emmett’s drunk,” I told Hannah, and it was his turn to shoot me that look. “Goodnight, Emmett.”

“Goodnight, Emmett.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Maybe have some water.”

He gave me an unimpressed look. “I will. Thanks for coming, Hannah.”

I followed Hannah out the door. “We have that meeting at the bank tomorrow,” I reminded him.

“Yep, I know.” He leaned on the door frame, watching me.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Adams. Text me when you get home.”

He stayed at the door until we got in the car and drove away.

I glanced over at Hannah while she made her way toward my place. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

The corners of her lips tugged in a small smile, and she nodded at me. “I did. I was nervous about going but I’m happy I went.”

Hannah was the kind of person who was anxious to enter social situations but often had fun once she was there. She just needed a push. That’s where I usually came in. Sometimes I worried if it weren’t for me, Hannah wouldn’t leave her bookstore. She often joked she felt more comfortable around fictional men than real ones.

“I’m happy you showed up, too.” I squeezed her shoulder.

She bit her lip, and her expression shuttered while she watched the road. She swallowed.

“What’s up?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.” Her voice was light.

“No, it’s something. What is it?”

Her gaze cut to me and then back to the road. “I guess I’m surprised you didn’t tell me about Emmett. He said you were unsure about the two of you and that’s why you didn’t want to tell anyone but…” She winced. “I thought we were better friends than that. I wouldn’t have told anyone.”

My heart sank in my chest. Fuck. I was such an asshole.

“I asked you a couple months ago if you were interested in dating anyone in town,” she continued, worry written on her face. “And you said no.”

The biggest asshole in the world. Hannah was so sweet, so kind, so selfless, and so thoughtful. She was my closest friend in this town and here I was, making her feel like total crap.

“It’s all fake,” I blurted out.

Shit. My head fell back on the head rest, and I sent her a tentative glance.

She gave me a strange look. “Huh?”

“The whole thing with Emmett, it’s all a big lie. We aren’t engaged, we aren’t even dating.” My words tumbled out. “I don’t even like the guy.”

She blinked at the road, lips parted. We were on my street, so she pulled into the driveway of my place. She parked the car without a word and sat staring up at the old house. I could hear music playing and people talking in the backyard.

Hannah glanced at me. “Um. Can you explain, please?”

I started talking and couldn’t stop. I told her everything. How he approached me and told me about his low poll numbers, how he wanted to win the election but being single was hurting him, how he agreed to cosign on my loan if I’d pretend to be his girlfriend, how he convinced me to get fake-engaged and then fake-married, all of it.

To Hannah’s credit, she listened and didn’t say a word, she just let me blab all my secrets to her while she wore a curious expression. When I was finished, I slumped back in my seat.

“Well?” I lifted my eyebrows. “Am I destined for the lowest level of hell for lying to an entire town?”

She tapped her chin with narrowed eyes. “Maybe not the lowest level.”

I snorted, and she grinned at me.

“A new deck and new windows is a pretty good deal,” she mused.

I winced. “Elizabeth is so excited.”

“And you really don’t like him? Like not even a little bit?”

I hesitated. I didn’t. I knew I didn’t. But those kisses, they were so good. I felt them down to my toes, to the ends of my hair, to the tips of my fingernails. I swallowed, thinking about his fingers against my scalp and his tongue slicking against mine. A shiver ran down my neck.

I didn’t want to lie to Hannah again.

“It’s Emmett Rhodes. Of course, I have a little crush on him.” I shrugged. “But it’s nothing serious. Really. It’s all fake, it’s all for show.”

She looked dubious.

“It’s all fake,” I emphasized. “And I’m sorry to do this to you but you can’t tell a soul.”

She rolled her eyes. “Who am I going to tell? I spend my days with Oliver Twist, Harry Potter, and Daisy Buchanan. My second-best friend, besides you, is Jane Austen. Your secret is safe.”

Relief settled in my chest. It was Hannah, and I knew I could trust her. I felt lighter, like my heavy backpack of fake-relationship bullshit had been set down for a few minutes.

“Thank you. Oh,” I remembered, “wedding dress shopping. Can you please come with me? It’s next weekend.”

Her face lit up. “Sure, I’d love to.”

“Okay, good.” I leaned over and gave her a quick hug. “Thanks, Han. You’re the best, you know that?”

We said our goodbyes and I went inside. Moments after I stepped in the door, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Emmett.

???

Yes? I responded.

Just making sure you got home okay.

I stared at the messages with curiosity. Emmett cared about one thing—the election—so him being so concerned about me getting home okay struck me as odd.

My heart beat faster at the thought of him caring about me.

But when I thought about what I had told Hannah in the car—it’s all fake, it’s all for show—I sobered. Besides, Emmett was the kind of person who asked how everyone was doing, asked about their family members, asked how their work was going. Schmoozey, I reminded myself. Emmett was all up in everyone’s business, and Elizabeth had raised him to be endlessly polite. That’s what he was doing. He was just being polite.

Home safe. Thanks. See you tomorrow, I texted.

Goodnight, Adams.

My mouth twisted with rueful pleasure at the sight of my nickname. His nickname for me. In my bedroom, I plugged my phone in and got undressed for bed. As I undressed, the underwear fell out of my pocket and onto the floor.

The decoy underwear. I snorted and picked them up, inspecting them. The fabric was soft silk. The lace was high quality. They looked like my size.

I raised an eyebrow. Emmett had put effort into buying these. The image of him shopping for underwear online, or explaining to a sales associate in a store what he wanted, flashed into my head and the pressure and heaviness between my legs was back.

I dropped the underwear like they were on fire.

I spent about half an hour lying in bed in my dark bedroom, trying to fall asleep and failing. Despite pushing all thoughts of Emmett out of my head, the pressure between my legs lingered. Thoughts of Emmett’s warm mouth, the scrape of his stubble, the firm touch of his fingers lingered. The tension within me lingered, and I groaned in frustration.

I needed to fall asleep, I told myself as my hands slipped into my underwear. Sleep was important, and when I didn’t sleep enough, I was grouchy, I thought as my fingers made contact with my center. I sighed as my fingers slid over my wetness. No one would know I was thinking about Emmett when I did this. I was alone, and no one would know. This was normal. He probably thought about me while he did this.

The image of Emmett alone in his bed, stroking his cock while thinking about me, sent a fresh flood of wetness to my folds and I sighed again.

My fingers made quick circles, and within moments, I tipped over the edge with pleasure, eyes wrenched closed and mouth open. I shuddered and whimpered, remembering the way his length pressed into me in the kitchen earlier tonight, the way his mouth scraped my neck, and how the electricity sparked within me. My fingers moved fast, and every ounce of tension was wrung from my body as I came.

When I was done, I sank into the pillows, catching my breath.

I didn’t feel better. I felt empty, and the needy twitchiness in my limbs lingered. I still wanted more. My mind protested but my body needed Emmett’s mouth, his hands, his length.

We had been spending too much time together. That’s why I was feeling like this. I’d tell Emmett we needed to walk it back. We’d convinced everyone we were a perfect, happy, devoted couple with our excessive PDA, so we didn’t need to kiss anymore.

Tomorrow. I’d tell Emmett tomorrow.