Page 25 of The Sweetmate
“I panicked. She probably saw us kiss. If I said you were my publicist, both of our careers would be in jeopardy.” I release a low whistle. “I really fucked this up.”
Lisa waits until the elevator doors close before she begins smacking me repeatedly. “You think? What are we going to do?”
“I’m sorry. But look, I know you think I’m an egotistical prick, but I really was thinking of you in that moment.”
She rubs her hands together and nods in thought. Speaking mostly to herself she says, “I get it. All is forgiven. Besides, she’s probably already moved on to something else to gossip about and nobody else knows.”
Desperately, I’d like to know if she’s going to take the night off to indulge the idea of just being with me for fun. But it doesn’t seem like the appropriate time to ask again. I scratch the back of my head and try to think of a way to prolong our time together.
The elevator doors open to the lobby, where we’re met by a group of reporters. Both Lisa’s and my phone begin dinging.
“Casey! Casey! Chef Riis! Chef!” Voices keep repeating my name, and the flashing camera lights are blinding. We’re surrounded by people. “Who is Lisa Vinton? Is it true she works for your uncle’s company and that’s how you two met? How long have you two been together? Is she accompanying you to Shell Island?”
Accompanying me to Shell Island? How’d they hear I was attending the celebrity showdown on the island? I agreed to it only a few days ago. News travels fast. Impressive.
“Casey! Is Miss Vinton accompanying you to Shell Island?”
I blink and then a slow smile spreads across my face. A smile that could rival the Grinch’s. I was just hoping I’d find a way to spend more time with her…
“Of course she is!” I call out. “Please. It’s been a long day. Miss Vinton and I would like to go relax. Y’all have a sweet day.”
Chapter 8
Lisa
I swing the pillow as hard as I can straight for Casey’s giant head. His head is of course perfectly sized, so it’s remarkable how it holds that massive ego.
“I can’t believe you!” I shriek as I grab another pillow from the couch and hurl it at him. “And if you say you panicked again, I’ll give you a reason to start panicking!”
“I feel like that reason is now.” Casey ducks as a pillow whooshes past his head. “But I didn’t panic. I saw my opportunity to spend more time with you and I took it.” He trips backwards but quickly regains his balance. “I regret nothing.”
“You’re about to regret ever meeting me!” I take the television remote, and unfortunately for him, I’m a decent pitcher.
“You get a free trip to the Florida Keys!” He hurries behind the couch and takes cover. Only when the remote clatters to the floor does he lift his head to yell. “You’re welcome!”
I pace the floor and eye the lamp on the end table. I better find something new to talk about before I launch that lamp at him.
“But I might lose my job! My reputation! Are you going to pay my bills?”
“Ooh like become your sugar daddy?” He waggles his eyebrows. “It’s an apt name since I’m a pastry chef.”
The venomous look I throw at him has me considering all my morals. Yup, I’ve officially entered my villain era. This will bemy origin story. “You…you…I can’t even think of anything to call you, I’m so angry!”
“This isn’t how I expected you to respond,” Casey says with the casualness of someone who’s enjoying a cup of tea andnothaving objects thrown at their head.
I stomp to the bedroom, only to return with arms reloaded with pillows.
Casey chuckles and raises his hands up in surrender. “Easy, cupcake.”
“Stop using a pet name for me! I’m not your cupcake. I’m not food. I’m not sweet!”
Casey grabs a pillow and holds it up as a shield. “I disagree. You’re intelligent, creative, compassionate, andincrediblysweet.”
While I’m torn between beating him with a pillow, smothering him with a pillow, or kissing the fool, he uses my moment of indecision to tackle me onto the couch. The warm weight of his body presses me into the cushions. I try to squirm but it’s useless. His large hands cage my wrists above my head.
Casey smirks and arches a brow. “Here’s your chance to go on a luxurious vacation. I’ll pay you double what my uncle is paying you.”
Pay me?My anger intensifies. “I’m not for sale!”
