Page 13 of Cinderella Is Faking It

“See? You have so much to teach me.” I grinned. “We definitely should spend more time together. What’s your counteroffer?”

“If I say breakfast, will you leave me alone?”

“Breakfast usually comes after dinner.”

“Watch your tongue. God.” She reached up to push her hair behind her ear, but it was sleeked back and clipped into place.

“Counteroffer: Drinks.” I lightly knocked the tip of my leather shoe against her stiletto.

“I told you that I don’t drink.”

“Why?”

“Messes with my head. I had one accidental sip tonight and that will be all for me for the rest of the year.” That explained her earlier conversation with the server. That boy was lucky to still have a job. How stupid did you have to be to mix up the alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks? Not only that, but to serve the owner of the whole hotel the wrong drink? I wouldn’t have let that kid get away with a pat on the arm and a ‘thank you’. Del sighed. “Fine. I’ll play.” She clicked her shoe against mine. “Counteroffer: Brunch. You can have a mimosa if you want drinks.”

“I accept your offer. Brunch it is.”

“Wait, what?” Her mouth fell open.

“You’re a great negotiator. I’m taking you out to Brunch tomorrow. Where should I pick you up?”

Her mouth formed silent words, before she caught a train of thought to verbalize. “You’re not picking me up because it’s not a date. If anything, we’ll meet at the restaurant.”

“Fine by me. I’ll see you at eleven at Bumble by the Sea.” I pushed myself off the wall and leaned down to kiss her cheek, a startled gasp escaping her throat. That sound sent a bolt of lightning straight down my middle and made me wonder what other sounds I could pull from her if this was how she reacted to a chaste peck on the cheek. “Try to enjoy your night, Blondie.”

I left her there before she could come up with any excuses for not meeting me. I could only hope that she wouldn’t totally wreck her hand over the next couple of hours, or I’d have to spoon-feed her on our first date.

SEVEN

Cordelia’s smile,when I facetimed her from the bathroom and told her about the impromptu brunch plan, was wide enough to rival the Cheshire Cat. She told me to have fun, make a good impression, and wear the red dress, then hung up.

Victor picked me up half an hour later, trunk of the car filled with all the stupid-expensive clothes I hadn’t worn tonight, including a red skater dress Cordelia had deemed too casual and too short for the party. Victor also waited outside my door at 10.40 the next morning to take me to Bumble by the Sea, a small but popular Harbourside restaurant renowned for its waffles and smoothies. (Thanks Google.) Except when I got to the door, a sign announced the place was closed for a private event. Amazing. And I’d skipped breakfast for the blueberry pancakes that had looked mouthwateringly delicious on the website.

I was fumbling my phone from the tiny, beaded bag that matched the dress, when the door swung open from inside. “Miss Montgomery, please come in.”

I blinked at the white-bearded man who could have passed for Santa Clause if Santa wore jeans and henley shirts. Oh. Right.Iwas Miss Montgomery. “Thanks.” I slipped past him into the restaurant. It looked exactly like it had online, except all the wooden tables had been cleared off, safe for one by the windows, which was still decorated with wildflowers and set with mismatched vintage tableware. The brunch buffet was fully stocked, and Beck was filling his plate with an assortment of mini muffins. He was in a suit again, just like the last two times I’d met him, but this one was light grey and fell a lot more casually around his wide frame.

“Do you already know what you want to drink, or would you like a look at the menu?” The bearded man asked with a bright smile.

“I’m just…” I blinked back and forth between him and the empty restaurant. “Apple juice please.”

“Of course. Coming right up.” He disappeared through a side door, leaving me with a preoccupied Beck. He only looked up from his pastry choices when I stepped up next to him.

“I was going to open the door for you like a gentleman, but I didn’t want you to think this was a date.” The corner of his mouth turned up, mischief glinting in those gray eyes of his.

“Good morning.” I picked up one of the bowls from the end of the buffet. “Care to tell me why this place is empty?”

“I didn’t want anything ruining our non-date.” He shrugged and popped a mini donut in his mouth, with no reason to look as good doing that.

“Did you just call up a random restaurant and book the whole place with less than 24 hours’ notice?” I filled my bowl with fresh fruit: strawberries, grapes, melon cubes, the whole shebang. “How much did you pay for that?”

“Actually, I bought the place this morning,” he said, and I dropped a kiwi slice into the breadbasket. His eyes followed the splash of green between perfectly toasted golden brown. “People don’t like doing things they perceive as an inconvenience, like clearing out a restaurant for a day on short notice, even if they get paid for it. Peopledolike making a huge amount of money in a snap without having to ask for it, if all they have to do is one little task, like clearing out a restaurant on short notice.”

“You bought this whole restaurant because you didn’t want any inconveniences?” I asked, still dumbfounded.

Beck properly turned to me for the first time that day. I almost shrank back under the intensity of his slate eyes as he stepped in front of me. His long fingers wrapped around my right wrist, and he pulled my hand up, running a warm thumb over the back of it. “Seems to be doing its job so far.”

I snapped my hand back. “You don’t get to do that.”

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