Practice Makes Perfect (When in Rome, #2)

“Because he’ll be teaching you all sorts of things. Sexual things I’m assuming, but correct me if I’m wrong.”

Her nostrils flare and she sucks in a fortifying breath. It’s too much fun to mess with her. There’s no way Annie is any kind of serious. She’s just trying to ignite some sort of protective instinct in me, hoping that I’ll agree to be her coach.

“Probably. I mean, yes. Definitely lots and lots of…” she swallows, “sexy times on the horizon.”

“Wow, that’s going to be great. You’ll have a blast,” I say, enjoying this taunting way too much before noticing Annie’s eyes drop to my lips. And just like that, she steals the entire show again. All of my thunder is gone and I can’t think straight with her eyes fixed on my mouth like that.

I try to hold still because I know she’s thinking about kissing me right now, and I can’t let her. I want to—oh God, I want to—but I can’t. Every single one of my skin cells ache for me to step forward and press our bodies together. But I can’t do that because I’m scared what will become of me if I do.

But neither of us steps away, and somehow the knuckles of my free hand brush against hers. Her fingers respond and lightly move against mine. Our fingers never intertwine; we just let our skin brush a controlled fire against the other. How is this the most erotic thing that’s ever happened to me? And now, to hell with it, I have to kiss her. No, I have to do more than kiss her—I need to press her against this doorframe and feel our bodies collide.

She lifts her face and I lower my head and—

Outside the shop, a car door slams and makes both of us jolt, heads whirling guiltily toward the shop window.

“Oh, it’s James,” she says breathily. “He’s coming by for this bouquet.” The one she’s clutching to her chest with the hand that wasn’t just torturing mine. “He called and ordered it this morning.”

I nod absently—my lazy movement matching her lazy tone because we’re both stuck in a sensuous, unrelieved haze. My arm is still resting behind Annie as I turn my eyes to watch James round the large white truck with the logo for Huxley Farm on the side. From everything Amelia has told me, he owns the farm now after it became too much for his parents. Apparently, he’s Noah’s best friend and has pretty much grown up with the Walker siblings. I assume he’s like a brother to them.

Or maybe he isn’t…

“Oh wow,” Annie says, also watching James but sounding less hazy by the second. “He’s wearing a suit!”

Yeah, he is. And even I can admit the man looks good. It’s a nice suit that’s accentuating his farmer’s body. He’s tall, muscular, tan. And even more important, when I look down at Annie, she’s looking at him like she’s never seen him before. My pulse jumps angrily. Possessively.

She steps away from me to go to the counter as James opens the door to the shop.

“James, hi!” she says in a cheery tone, while setting the bouquet on the counter and pulling out a piece of brown paper to wrap around it. The weird part is, she never even looks at what her hands are doing. She’s staring at James the entire time. Not necessarily like she wants him—but like she’s contemplating him.

Shit. I’m afraid I know what’s happening now.

“Morning, Annie! Thanks for having this ready for me.” This man has Town Golden Boy written all over him. The dazzling smile. The open face. The twinkle in his eye of a person who’s never been jaded by the world. Irrationally, I hate him.

“You look amazing,” Annie says with way too much emphasis, if you ask me. “Where are you going?” Her fingers work to delicately wrap twine around the brown paper—and all I can think about is how those fingers felt moving softly against mine. What they’d feel like dancing across my chest. Clutching at my back.

“With Mom to a wedding for one of my cousins.”

“Your dad okay?” she asks, sweetness and concern coating her tone.

What’s it like to have someone like Annie worry about you? I doubt James even appreciates what he has.

He chuckles lightly. “If you count stubbornly refusing to go to the wedding because it has a black-tie dress code and Mom won’t let him wear his John Deere hat, then, yes—he’s fine. I, however, am going to be miserable all afternoon after being guilt-tripped into going.”

“And yet you’re still taking her a bouquet of flowers. What a guy,” she says with a soft chuckle. “But you’ll have a great time. I’ve seen you on the dance floor, and I know you’ll have all the ladies lined up by the end of the night.”

James laughs again, and their camaraderie is making me feel a little ill.

“We’ll see,” James says before winking at Annie in a blatantly Matthew McConaughey kind of way. And now I want to run him over with his own truck.

Am I jealous? No, I’m never jealous. You can’t have a series of nostrings-attached hookups with women for your entire adult life and be the jealous type. It’s impossible. And yet, as I see Annie eyeing James in an assessing way and coming to some sort of conclusion, I realize I am absolutely jealous.

“Hey, James?” she begins thoughtfully. “I have sort of a random question to ask you. And feel free to say no, but would you—”

“I’ll do it,” I say quickly, cutting Annie off.

She whips her head in my direction and stares up at me. “You will? But you just said—”

“I know. I changed my mind. I want to do it.” She blinks and smiles up at me, and my heart fills with something that feels like lava. “But I have one condition.”

“Name it.”

I grin. “I get to walk out of here today with your book.”

“My book?” she asks, hoping she heard me wrong.

“The book.” I smile as I watch two pink splotches hit the apples of her cheeks.

For a beat, there’s nothing but silence. Painful, thick silence. And then slowly Annie’s sweet smile tilts ever so slightly into a devious grin, and I realize I just got epically played. “You’ve got a deal, bodyguard.”

“Executive protection agent.”

James clears his throat. “Why do I feel like I just missed out on an important opportunity?”

Because you did. Now, get lost, she’s mine.





CHAPTER NINE


    Annie


I dramatically throw open the door to Amelia’s studio and then lunge to catch the handle before it slams against the wall. The point was to make a shocking entrance—not a hole in the wall.

Amelia whirls around on the piano bench, wide-eyed.

I hold up the letter. “This was unacceptable, you little…” She leans closer to see if this will actually be the moment I say something cutting. “Meddler! Beautiful meddler actually, because you’re honestly glowing today—but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m mad at you!”

Amelia smiles. “You are looking beautiful today too.”

“Don’t try to butter me up. You’re in trouble. You Funny-Faced me!”

“Yeah, I did!” Her smile grows. “What was his answer?”

I move to sit on the little couch against the wall and run my hand back and forth over the soft green velvet of the armrest. “You don’t get to know. Meddlers don’t get rewards.”

“You agreed last night to let me come up with a plan, remember? You said you wanted someone to swoop in and teach you how to get good at dating, like Fred taught Audrey to be the Quality woman. So I found your Fred.”

“But you weren’t supposed to present the plan to me in front of Fred!” I shake my head. “I mean, Will—where he would bodily wrestle me for the friggin’ thing.”

Amelia takes in a happy gulp of air. “He said yes, didn’t he?”

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