Our Totally, Ridiculous, Made-Up Christmas Relationship (7 page)

The bulge forming in my jeans snaps me back to reality. Wait, what?!
Stop
. What in the goddamn hell am I talking about?
Bad, Kayden, bad!
I can’t have these types of thoughts about Jules. I can’t want to push her against the hood of the car and press into her, forcing moans to escape closed lips. I can’t allow the melting snow to run down her body as I wipe up each wet spot with my tongue. This is business and mixing business with pleasure is bad form...Right?

I will not bang my boss. I will not bang my boss.

Ah hell. I still want to bang my boss.

We pull our cars over to fill up on gas, and all I can from the pump behind her is stare at her perfect ass. The way she handles the pump is way too much of a turn on for me, which is awkward, so I force my eyes to shift away from her.

“I’ll cover your ass, too,” she says, looking toward me with those eyes. I blink through the snowflakes hitting my eyelashes and try to understand what the hell she just said. She sees my confusion and smiles, speaking louder. “I said I’ll cover your gas. Just let me know how much it is.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Snow falls down her jacket and into her cleavage and my eyes follow it. It’s probably melting now, leaving dripping wet water rolling down her body.
Jesus!

“I’m gonna head inside. Do you want my lips?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. My weird expression is probably freaking her out. She laughs, and the way her head throws backwards is so fucking attractive. “My gosh, you’re like the people in the nursing home where I volunteer! Put in your hearing aids, oldie. I said,
Do-you-want-some-chips
?”

“Oh…no. I’m good. I’ll be in my car, ready to follow when you come out.”

I watch her move quickly into the gas station and slap my hand against my forehead. “What the hell, Kayden?” Hopping in my car, I slam the door and grip the steering wheel. “Pull it together…”

Reaching for my ashtray, I pick up a cigarette and light it, waiting for Jules to come back out and finish off the road trip. The snow’s coming down faster and faster, and we have quite a few more hours left before hitting her cabin.

Seeing her walk back to her car and hop in, I turn my engine on and wait for her to pull out. What follows next is the sound of her car trying to get a move on but failing terribly. Then I see her body jump, as a cloud of smoke appears from under the hood. She starts thrashing her arms around, slapping her hands against the steering wheel, screaming what I assume to be pretty harsh cuss words.

Opening my door, I walk over and she rolls down her window by hand in her old-ass car. Placing my hands on the door, I bend down to see her frowning. What a cute frown it is though.

“This is turning out to be the crappiest day of the year,” she sighs and lets her head fall back to the steering wheel.

“Don’t be crazy. There’s no way this is the crappiest day of the year,” I say, nudging her in the shoulder through her car window. “There’s always Christmas to look forward to.”

“You don’t happen to know anything about cars?” she asks, glancing at the time and groaning in exasperation. It’s difficult for me to understand why she’s in such a hurry to arrive at a place she calls her personal hell, but then again, she’s pretty damn weird.

“Nope, not a mechanic. But with my superb talent I
can
play one on television.”

She smiles, making me smile. Her smile is killing me. Her gray mittens run across her hair and her body rotates to me. “Listen, I know you’ve been clean from killing people for a week now, and I would hate for you to slip up and have an incident but…do you think I can bum a ride? If you end up killing me, that’s totally understandable, and I apologize ahead of time for making you relapse.” She looks at me, removing her mittens, and I notice two small dimples on her cheeks as her fingers brush through her hair.

I watch her roll her window back up before I open her door and take her hand, helping her out of the broken-down vehicle. Moving over to the passenger side of my car, I open the door and she climbs in. After I head inside to get the dude who works at the gas station to help me push Jules’s car into an emptied parking spot until the holiday weekend is over, I move to hop back into the BMW.

“What about my bags?!” she exclaims in her overly dramatic way, a trait I picked up on the first moment I met her.

“Keys,” I order, and she hands them to me. Loading her luggage into my trunk, I hurry to get out of the frigid air and brush off the freshly fallen snow that covers me. Slamming my door shut, I sigh. “Your bags really made it hard for the body in my trunk to fit.”

She smiles again. I don’t know why, but it pleases me that I make her smile. I want to keep those grins coming my way.

“Is it a girl body or a guy body?”

“Guy, of course. He stiffed me at bar close on my tips. Besides”—I start up my engine and pull out of the gas station—”there are a lot of things I would do to a girl’s body. But I would never hurt her.”

She arches an eyebrow, looking at me as if she hasn’t seen me until now. Holy shit, I want to kiss her. She once again runs her hands through her hair, her eyes glued to me. She’s still for a good minute until she turns to the GPS and enters her family’s address.

“Smoking kills.”

“So do airplanes, ovens, and peanut butter.”

She rolls her eyes and runs her hands up and down her thighs. I would kill to be her hands right now. “Yeah, but those are accidents. Smoking those cancer sticks is a choice.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Oh no. Not at all. It’s just been proven in studies that second-hand smoke can affect people just as terribly as first-hand smoking. I’m fine with breathing in your toxins, shortening my life expectancy by minutes…hours…days…”

I narrow my eyes on her and blow out a cloud of smoke toward the open crack in my window. “Well, as long as it doesn’t bother you.”

“You’re such a dick. I don’t even know you but I can tell you’re a total dick.”

I chuckle, smashing my cigarette into the ashtray. “You’re not a very nice made-up girlfriend.” She smiles at the ashtray, pleased with my choice to respect her hope for longevity.

“I know. I’m a total girl-dick. That’s why we work so well as a make-believe couple. We’re terrible people and putting us together pretty much makes us the devil.” Her eyes sparkle almost more than the snow outside and her lips part again. “I know this is going to sound inappropriate, random and stuff, but…you’re pretty hot.” Her comment comes as a surprise, and I smirk as the color rises up her cheeks. “I even made up a nickname for you.”

“A nickname, eh? Let me hear it.”

“Promise you won’t laugh?” she asks sounding a bit nervous.

“I’ll probably laugh.”

She wiggles her nose and bites her bottom lip, “Mr. Sexdorable.”

I laugh instantly. How could I not? “Sexdorable?”

“You know, ‘cause you’re sexy and adorable all at once.”

I relax into my seat and can’t stop laughing, “Guys don’t like being called adorable. Puppies are adorable, not grown men.”

“Even if it’s
sex
dorable?” she pouts, hoping I will agree to the name.

“Well…” I ponder the thought, rubbing my hand across my chin. “Since I’m getting paid one thousand dollars to act like your boyfriend, I think I’ll let the nickname slide for now.”

She laughs this time and I feel a knot in my gut. My gawd…I love the sound of her laugh, too. Almost more than those smiles.

“What about me? Do I get a nickname?” She slips her feet out of her wet boots. Her frame rotates toward me and she curls her body up in her seat, tucking her knees against her chest. If it were anyone else, I would cuss them out for having their feet on my BMW seats, but her socks have penguins on them, and that’s pretty damn cute.

“Sunshine.”

Her smile widens, her dimples deepen, and I think about holding her. This time the thought of having sex with her doesn’t even appear.

“Sunshine?” she questions, moving her hair behind her ears. “There’s this old guy at the nursing home where I volunteer and he calls me Sunshine.”

“He sounds like a smart guy,” I say and she giggles.

“He’s kind of an asshole, who’s snarky and rude. But I like him well enough. So tell me, why the nickname ‘Sunshine?’”

“Because even during some dark times in your life, when the clouds roll in, you still find a way to laugh, to shine.” She’s still again, but that’s perfect. I don’t want her to move. I know it might sound stupid, but if she never moved again and just kept smiling, I would be a happy man.

I pause, realizing my thoughts, and shake my head back and forth. Where the heck did that come from? First I want to bang her, and now I want to stare at her? All of her awkwardness is shifting into me and I need to pull it together.

Hell. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

Think dirty thoughts again, Kayden. I want to bang my boss, I want to bang my boss, I want to hold her hand…

I glance over at her, feeling her body shift in her seat. “Oh…” she whispers, and I look down to see that her hand has somehow intertwined with mine. “Is this so it doesn’t appear awkward when we get to my parents?”

No, I just like holding your hand
. “Yeah. You know, we want this to be believable.”

“Right. Well, Kayden, I gotta say…I almost feel as though you like me…and we’ve only known each other a few hours. You deserve a damn Oscar.” She bites that damn lip again, and I just about lose it. She’s a wacko, she’s funny, she’s exaggeratedly emotional, and she’s holding my hand.

And the last thing I want her to do is let go.

“You can’t go a little faster?” Jules complains, and I choose not to reply. We are a good two hours behind schedule, and with this timeline, we should be to her house a little after nine p.m. Jules’s head falls into her hands and she mutters against her palms, “There aren’t even that many cars on the road!”

“Don’t get bitchy,” I warn, not looking her way. “We’ll get there when we get there. What’s the big deal anyway?”

Her cell phone goes off for the fifth time in the past hour and she stares at it before holding the shining phone up to my face. “
That’s
the big deal. My mother’s a nut and won’t stop calling. I’ve texted her three times already telling her we were running behind. And now she’s calling nonstop.”

“Maybe that’s not why she’s calling. Just answer it. You’re acting like a little brat.”

She straightens up in her seat and gives me a look of death. “You cannot call me a brat!”

The phone relentlessly rings again demanding an answer. Just as defiantly, Jules ignores it, again. “Brat. Brat…
Brat
!” I echo her way. Her middle finger flies up toward me but cute smirk on her face remains. I bite toward her finger, which isn’t giving me the kindest gesture in the world. “If you point that at me, I will bite it. Hard. Now answer the damn phone.”

She laughs at me, watching me snap my teeth toward her before a flat sigh leaves her body and she answers her cell phone. “Hi Mom.” Jules melts into the leather seat and nods as if her mother can see her actions. “I know, but there’s—” She pauses, listening to her mom, who is not giving her a chance to get a word in. “Yeah, but Mom!” Her childish whiney voice returns and I snicker. I can’t help but think that we have pretty different mothers.

“Of course he’s here! Where the heck would he be?
Noo,
I’m not lying.” Pause. Frown. Pause. Frown again. “Well I don’t really care what Lisa thinks. No, he’s not a Republican! My gosh, Mom!”

The phone rips away from her ear and she turns toward me. “Are you a Republican?”

“No.”

Her ear flies back to the phone and her intense look of displeasure returns. “Mom, if you think I’m going to ask him that, you’re ridiculous. Why not? Are you serious?! Because it’s totally inappropriate. I’m a grown woman who is completely capable of choosing my boyfriends, Mother! And I refuse to sit here and listen to you—” Her words come to a halt and the eye rolling hits an all-time high. She covers the phone with her hand and pushes it in my direction. “She wants to talk to you.”

I laugh and shake my head back and forth. “I’m driving.”

“Listen. I’m trying here, I really am. But if I have to sit and listen to how childish I am for not giving my boyfriend the phone when my mom asked to speak with him, I will promise to make the next five days of your life a living hell.” The phone pushes more into my arm and I really want to laugh at her, but she’s kind of scary right now. “Remember, you’re Richard.”