Page 39 of The Great Dating Fake Off
“So says my map app. Did any of your adventures ever take you near there?”
“I’ve driven through Nebraska plenty of times. Not to overstep, but are you sure that’s a prime spot for what you’re trying to do? It’s pretty rural outside of Omaha, if I recall. And boring, unless you’re really into farmers’ daughters. Age-appropriate ones, of course.”
I don’t miss her sideways glance.
There’s a question somewhere in there.
“I’m not out there shopping for farmers’ daughters,” I say, biting back a grin. “I’ve got a job to do.”
“People can have social lives even when they work. Allegedly.”
I laugh. “Allegedly. Did you just dunk on yourself?”
A flush creeps up her neck. “I’m just saying, you should at least aim to live in the city itself.”
“It’s still close to Omaha for day trips, which is important because I get antsy when there isn’t a city nearby. Doesn’t have to be perfect. No place is. It just has to be tolerable for a year or so until it’s time to go.”
“Talk about living my nightmare,” she says. “Not even enough time to find a decent person to cut your hair and it’s time to move again? Sounds awful.”
“My bar for a decent haircut must be lower than yours.”
She tugs off my hat, removes the elastic from her low ponytail, and shakes out her thick, shiny hair in a most distracting way. Without warning, she frisbees the hat back to me. “It took me months to find a salon I liked in Great River. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because look at you. You could strut into a bar with a mohawk or a mullet and any number of gorgeous women would hang on you like those plastic monkey-in-a-barrel toys with the hook arms.”
I’ve opened my mouth to challenge this when she tugs the hem of her shirt up over her head.
“What are you doing?” Heat grips my body as my gaze falls to her perfect chest, barely covered by two triangles of black fabric. And then lower, to her bare stomach. Tiny cursive words I can’t quite make out are written on her ribs.
“It’s hot. There’s a lake. I was going to swim. Is that bad?” Her eyes and tone are pure innocence, which makes her outrageous body all the more devilish.
“I guess not.” I clutch my hat in my hands. It’s still warm from her.
She nudges off her shoes one at a time and bends over to take off her socks. “Wait, you don’t think there are eels or something weird in there, right?”
I swallow, throat tight. “Trust me, if there were eels, the caterer would be sourcing them for dinner by now. We’re probably fine.”
She freezes. “What?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“No, you are going to have to explain that one if I have any hope of eating this week.”
Considering Nora overheard Alessia and Enzo discussing her relationship with Eloise during our attempted cocktail hour jailbreak, it’s probably safe to spell it out for her. “Alessia is in a relationship with Eloise, the caterer, so I know too much about the menu this week. Spoiler: it’s a lot of seafood.”
“So, Eloise is both the caterer and Alessia’s girlfriend. Got it.” She unbuttons her shorts. Her fingers pinch her zipper and drag it down. The fabric of her shiny swimsuit bottoms comes into view centimeters at a time. “That’s a bummer about the menu, though. I hate all seafood. Except for lobster bisque from Lou’s Tavern, which is my favorite food.”
My pulse is alarmingly fast as I try to keep up with what she’s saying. “That makes no sense. Lobster is the epitome of seafood, so how can you say you hate all seafood?”
She slips her thumbs into her shorts and drags them down, shimmying her hips. “I don’t know, but the soup is delicious. I eat it every Thursday. When I don’t, I swear I have bad luck the whole following week.”
As if that settles things, she saunters off the path in pursuit of the sandy shore. Her bikini bottoms fit her better than a glove. It’s like they’re painted on her perky ass.
My attention lands on the tattoo just above her elbow. It’s also in loopy cursive that matches the style on her ribs.
She peeks over her shoulder and catches me staring. Her lips tip into an almost teasing smile. I can’t decide if she’s a flirt or completely unaware of her power. The way she’s looking back at me with so much of her tantalizing body on display goes straight to my cock.
