“I seriously doubt that,” I mutter under my breath, and Oliver chuckles. I’m annoyed with him, but I can’t help but be charmed by his handsome smile.
Roxy shakes her head. “Besides, I still have a lot to do before I have a baby. Queen Bey might be able to have a couple of kids, but she’s already the queen. I’ve got a way to go yet.”
“A baby’s the last thing Roxy needs. She needs to get a real job first, at least,” my mom says.
“I resent that. What’s wrong with singing?” Roxy complains.
Mom frowns. “I think it’s sweet and all that you like to sing, but baby, the odds of ever actually making it big are slim.”
“Tell that to the people down at Trixie’s,” Roxy rebuts, sounding hurt. “They love my voice.”
“I think it’s admirable that you have the guts to try and find your own way,” Oliver says, and I hear something in his voice that I haven’t heard before. He sounds legitimate, like it’s not for show. He looks directly at Roxy as he talks, the rest of us forgotten. “I think you should keep going for it. Don’t get roped into a job, a life you don’t want, just to fulfill someone else’s idea of what you should do. Trust me on that one.”
Oliver seems to have silenced everyone, but Grandma finally speaks up. “Let’s just leave the poor girl alone. She’s young and has more than enough time to figure everything out.”
“Thank you,” Roxy says with relief. “Now can we please get back to the subject at hand? Babies—when are y’all gonna have babies?” Roxy says, turning to me. Oh, I could kill her. I think I can. The law might be on my side. I’m temporarily insane. “Cause y’all look like you’d make a litter of beautiful ones.”
“We’re waiting until after we’re married,” I say. I give Oliver a meaningful glance. “We want to do things right and all.”
I figure that as soon as we’re gone from here, I’ll call Mom and tell her that Oliver and I had some issues and broke off our engagement. I’m sure it will upset them, but I really didn’t expect things to get this deep.
“Well hopefully, that’s sooner rather than later,” Grandma says. “You might think I’m still a spry chicken, but I’m just about plucked and ready for the fryer.” She looks around and smirks. “Not that I can’t think rings around all of y’all though. But on that note, I think it’s time for bed.”
Grandma starts to get to her feet, but before she can heave herself up, Oliver’s there guiding her up. “Thank you, young man. Handsome and a gentleman. Good night, you all.”
“Goodnight, Grandma,” I say, watching Oliver give me a smoldering look as he sits back down. When he settles in, I lean over and whisper to him softly. “That was nice of you.”
“She’s funny,” Oliver whispers back. “I like her.”
“I think it’s time we all retired,” Mom says, also rising to her feet. “We have a packed schedule this week. Breakfast is served at eight in the morning. I expect everyone to make it, even if you’re just eating some Pop Tarts.” She arches a brow at my sister. “I’m looking at you, Miss Roxy Price. And show your sister and Oliver to their room, will you?”
“Of course,” Roxy replies, jumping to her feet. “We made sure to give you guys a nice, private room far from everyone else so you can’t disturb everyone with the wild sounds of whips and handcuffs,” she says with a big wink and nudge from her elbow to my midsection.
“Oh, we Ieft those at home,” Oliver quips, making me blush as we let Roxy lead us up the stairs.
“You guys really make a cute couple,” Roxy says. “You could be a couple in a movie or something.”
“Thanks,” Oliver says. “We get that all the time.”
“I was serious about your brother. No pressure, but I’m a little hard up,” Roxy says with a laugh, and I’m surprised. My outgoing little sister, hard up for a date? Then again . . . Oliver’s brother, if he even exists? No chance in hell.
“Trust me, you don’t want to do that,” Oliver says, and I feel an awesome wave of relief wash over me. He’s not a total asshole.
Roxy lets out a sigh as we reach the guest bedroom. “Damn. Oh, well. Here it is.”
Roxy, swings open the doors, stepping inside with us. “Welcome to the . . . I think John called it the Morgan Bedroom. No clue why.”
The room is huge, with a giant picture window that dominates one wall and a balcony outside, white walls, and a huge gray four-poster, canopied bed in the middle. The rug is gorgeous, and every carved twist of wood, from the details in the door frame to the gilded edges of the molding on the ceiling, screams luxurious. I look around, and I notice that our luggage is waiting for us beside the Cherrywood dresser.
“Goodnight, you two,” Roxy says, mischievously wiggling her eyebrows at us. “Don’t make too many bumps in the night. Or at least, muffle the screams when you do.”
Before I can protest, Roxy turns and walks out, closing the door behind her. I step toward the door and turn, realizing that I’m alone with Oliver for the first time since meeting him in the living room at Gavin’s.
The moment hits me, and I realize that I’m faced with the situation I’ve been dreading. This room is so extravagant, so why isn’t there a sofa in here that I can make him sleep on? The room has everything but a damn sofa.
“This is . . . nice,” I remark, trying to stall. I walk around the bed to the other side of the room, studying the night through giant French doors. “We’ll have a great view in the morning.”
“We will,” Oliver agrees, and I turn around to see him beginning to unbutton his shirt.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice unsteady. “You can’t be serious!”
He gives me a look before pausing. He’s got his shirt half opened, revealing a set of super-hard abs and tanned skin beneath.
“I’m unbuttoning my shirt. What’s it look like?” Oliver asks. “You know, I can’t exactly go to bed in a sports coat and khakis.”
My mind is flooded with thoughts of all the dirty, sexy things that could happen if I let them. I’d normally be down for a night of fun with a man like him, but I just can’t get over his cockiness. My pride’s getting in the way of a good fuck. But lying in a bed with him with only a few inches and some cloth between us? Asshole or not, his body is irresistible.
I grab myself by the arms, squeezing, trying to ward away the desire flowing through my body as the image of his lips burning into mine flashes in my mind. My pussy clenches as I remember the kiss from earlier that seemed to promise paradise. Oh, fuck.
I’m not caving on the first night. No fucking way.
I set my face as hard as I can and stab a finger at the floor. “I think you should sleep on the floor for tonight. I’m not sharing a bed with you.”
Oliver looks at me like I’m crazy before letting out a chuckle. “Like hell. I’m a man, not a dog. If you want to sleep on the floor, be my guest.”
He pulls his shirt all the way off, tossing it to the side. In an instant, I have a full view of him. Every muscle on his torso is defined and flows like a piece of artwork from one to the next, and all of them are saying fuck me, Mindy.
My knees give a wobble as they become weak. Sweet baby Jesus. He is on fire.
I place my hands on my hips, trying to be strong. “Yeah, that’s exactly why I want you to sleep there. You are a dog, and I don’t fucking trust you.”
On one hand, I’m pissed that I can’t let my pride go. I want to get in that bed and lick him from head to toe, but beyond his being an ass today, I’m scared. I’m scared what would happen if I sleep with him. And it’s totally not me. I’m on guard because he’s different. He feels . . . I can’t decide if the right word is dangerous . . . or special.
And he’s not really my fiancé, I remind myself. It’s pretend.