Page 52 of Best Served Cold

Rob sets down his drink. It’s obvious he’s seconds away from punching Jonah in the face again, this time in front of a large crowd of people. He’d get into trouble for it, and I’m sure his chances of becoming a foster parent for that boy would be obliterated.

Oh, IhateJonah.

I hate him in the way a person can only hate a dream gone sour. I don’t want to think the best of him, or even try to improve him as a person with crystals, the way Dottie hopes to do. I want to destroy him. I want to make him feel as insignificant and unwanted as he made me feel. I want to watch himcry.

It’s an awful, sickening feeling, especially when I’ve poured so much energy into being a glass-half-full person. A good influence. Someone who brings out the best in other people. But I don’t want to deny the impulse. I want to grip it with both hands.

And then it hits me.

Hannah told me the best revenge would be dating Jonah’s brother.

Rob said the only way out of the mess Jonah’s created for him might be to jump into a serious relationship.

Plus, Rob made it pretty clear he doesn’t want anything to do with his father’s side of the family.

And Dottie said our fates were intertwined.

“Help me down, honey,” I say to Rob, giving him aplease, for the love of God play alonglook.

Jonah seems taken back, almost like he thinks I’m talking to him, and Rob looks like I just axed him in the head.

Rob recovers first, scooping me into his arms. I gasp as he pulls me into him. His chest is so solid and warm, and my whole body is suddenly filled with a different kind of awareness. Even here, in front of everyone, in front of freakingJonah.

“Thanks,” I say, peering up into his eyes. I silently will him to play along. “I think we’d better tell him.”

His eyes are full of conflicting emotions, and for a second, doubt takes hold. I was impulsive again, first by getting up on the booth seat, and now this, and?—

Rob dips his head to kiss me.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ROB

I promised myself I wouldn’t lie anymore, that the lying was done when the drinking was, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to step up for Sophie, especially when it means I get to puncture Jonah’s puffed-up ego.

It doesn’t hurt that you’ve been thinking about kissing her.

When she stepped onto that booth seat, she was Sophie from that video again, a vengeful goddess full of fire and passion. My fingers itched for my pen, wanting to write another song about her. But I have to admit I was more interested in gliding my hands all over her. I wanted to learn the dips and curves of this perplexing woman who’d seemed so simple at first glance. I wanted to show her that I was a man who could appreciate a woman full of fireandhoney, unlike my dipshit brother, who only wanted the sweetness.

When she called me “honey,” it had felt like she’d reached into my head and pulled out the word.

It had felt natural to reach for her, to have her weight settle in my arms. To hold her against my chest in front of everyone, making a declaration. Then she’d looked into my eyes, hers alight with mischief and rage, and said, “I think we’d better tell him.”

Damn.

This woman is so unexpected. Like a cherry candy with a spicy cinnamon center. One minute I have Pollyanna, the next a femme fatale.

Her lips are bright red tonight, the same color as the imprint they left on my cheek last weekend.

I can’t help it. I lower my head and brush a kiss over them, soft and quick but deep enough to declare to my brother and every last person in this bar that this woman is now mine. Even if it’s fake.

That’s my intention, anyway. It lasts seconds longer than it should, because her sweet lips part and an electric feeling arcs between us, freezing my senses to everything except her and the places where we connect. The moment feels full of possibility and need. Now that I have my lips on her, I’m tempted to carry her out of here.

She’s only pretending, Rob.

I pull back.

She stares up at me with those big blue eyes, which can look as innocent as a baby doll’s one second and as fierce as the blade of a knife the next. “You can put me down now, babe.”

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