Page 54 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

My heart rattled in my chest.

“How would you feel about a practice boyfriend?”

“A…practice boyfriend?” George looked charmingly miffed as he clutched his jar of pickles close. He hadn’t let go of them since I’d handed them to him. Like he was worried they’d grow legs and walk off if he didn’t hold them tight.

“Yeah!” The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. “Mypractice boyfriend.” I nodded, oddly elated by the prospect. June had said the arrangement didn’t need to be anything but temporary. That, paired with what George had said about wanting an affectionate boyfriend, had given me the idea.

“Like fake dating?” George sounded dubious at best.

“Yes and no.” I tapped my fingers on the wheel, getting hyped up the more I thought about it. “It wouldn’t be fake. Just…temporary? Assuming you’re as uninterested in your family’s matchmaking efforts as I am with mine.” Mrs. Milton had been way too excited when I’d asked her what I’d need to get back into George’s good graces.

Like a hairspray-obsessed kid on Christmas.

“I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” George huffed.

“See? Neither am I! It would be perfect.”

“I’m not looking for apracticeboyfriend either,” George scowled, guarding his jar of pickles like a blond goblin hoarding treasure. “I’m thirty-three. Feels juvenile.”

“You sure?” I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “You’d get all the attention you could ever want. More even.” This was perfect. I was a genius. A goddamn genius. This could be the best of both worlds—everything I’d ever wanted for long enough I could savor it. Things would end before George got sick of me. It’d beperfect. “It’d get your family—and mine—off both our backs.” I could please June, attend the wedding with someone, and get to spend time with George, without pressure. He wouldn’t see beneath my cracks. I could be a perfect boyfriend for seven days. Fuck yes, I could. “And it’d be fun! A week of affection, no strings attached.”

George eyed me distrustfully.

I continued, “I’ve never had someone to spoil before.” I’d never had the opportunity to be the kind of boyfriend I’d always wanted to be—too afraid of being too much, too afraid of scaring whoever I was dating off with my “intensity.” Too afraid of being rejected when they realized what was beneath my polished exterior.

George tilted his head to the side, the light in his eyes warming. “You…wantto spoil someone?”

“Oh yeah,” I bobbed my head. “So much. More than anything.” That was the most honest I’d ever been. I couldn’t believe how easily the words had come out, considering how closely I’d guarded that secret.

“I’m not having sex with you,” George scoffed. “If that’s why you?—”

“Sex is optional,” I was quick to reassure. I meant that. “Totally optional, and totally up to you.”

“Hmm.” George leaned back in his seat. My sincerity was evident. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s good enough for me.” It was tempting to try to sell the idea to him more. But…I’d been in sales long enough to know that at this point, that wouldn’t help. If George desired what I had on offer, he’d take it. And…maybe like June had said, the best way to convince him would be to show him what he’d be missing if he said no.

George was baffled but pleased when I took us to a diner for brunch. The place was darling, a mom-and-pop joint that looked straight out of the seventies. I made sure to pay for his food, finding great satisfaction in the way he ate.

These tiny, dainty bites.

I wanted to poke fun, but I was on my best behavior at present, and figured that wouldn’t get me any extra points. I got the door for him too, grinning when this little perplexed wrinkle formed between his brows as he stepped outside and into the sun.

It caught on his hair, making it glisten like spun gold. He was dressed more casually today. A tight-fitting white t-shirt that clung to his lean frame. Dark denim that highlighted the length of his legs and the bounce of his ass. His biceps were toned, if still skinny, like he spent a lot of time doing cardio, with a side of lifting, not in the gym, but in his everyday life. An effortless sort of strength.

I tried not to ogle.

But failed, spectacularly.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I groaned. Caller ID said it was the florist. Normally, I’d ignore it—but with June’s wedding only a week away, I was constantly on edge, worried something was going to go wrong. Unfortunately for me, my intuition was right.

“You go ahead,” I urged. “Here.” I tossed George the car keys, not wanting him to be stuck in the heat while I dealt with this. “I gotta take this.”

George caught the keys. Only barely. They bumped off his fingers, and he scrambled to try and snatch them before they fell to the ground. He didn’t ask any questions as he moved to the car and gracefully climbed inside, folding those long, long legs into the space.

I licked my lips, then forced my mind out of the gutter.

“Hi, Miranda,” I answered the call, aiming for cheerful—as I knew that was the best way to deal with this particular employee. She was a sweetheart. I could tell she hadn’t had much praise in her life, because every time I told her what a good job she was doing, she perked right up.

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