Marry Me for Money (16 page)

I huffed and blew my bangs out of my face. Better start now as I didn’t want to spend my whole Saturday paying bills.

Finished, I plopped on the couch and rewarded myself with some trashy reality TV when my phone rang. It was Kent.

“Hi,” I said, my eyes still glued on the screen.

“I’m bored. I’m coming over.”

I loved this stuff, even though people thought it was just garbage television. Reality TV was where I got the good, the raw, and the drama.

“My trainer canceled today. I was supposed to go with Luke on his boat, but he canceled, so I’m coming over.”

“Sure.” I chuckled, giggling at the show holding my attention.

“Hello? Did you hear a word I said?”

“Oh, sorry. Oh, my goodness! This show is flipping crazy funny. Have you ever watched
Keeping up with the Kardashians
? Right now, Kim and Kourtney are fighting, and they are totally getting into it. You’d love this stuff.” I stopped because I realized what I’d said. He would never watch
Keeping up with the Kardashians
.

“So, what happened?” I asked, still laughing at the TV. I turned the volume down, so I could concentrate on our conversation.

“I’m coming over,” he uttered.

“Oh.” I looked down at my puppy pajama pants, and my hand immediately flew to the bun on the crown of my head. “Warning, I look like crap, and my apartment is a disaster.”

“That’s fine. I don’t care. I’ll pick up lunch.”

As Kent hung up, I shrugged and remained sprawled on the couch.

Thirty minutes later, Kent knocked on my door, and I let him in. Dressed down in cargo pants and a navy T-shirt that said
Princeton
, he placed our lunch on the counter and smiled.

“Salad.” He lifted the clear container filled with greens.

I automatically made a face. “Lettuce is only for turtles. You know I don’t like salad,” I whined.

“Salad is good for you. You’re not overweight, but you should stop eating grease and eat healthy once in a while. Cute pants,” he said, glancing at the white puppies printed on my cotton pink pants.

“Shut up.” I snatched the salad container out of his hands and prepared our lunch on the island.

Kent strolled around my apartment. “Glad you cleaned up.” He said, eyeing the blanket that I threw over the mess of
People
,
OK
, and
US Weekly
magazines on the floor.

I shrugged, continuing to set up our lunch on the island.

He glided over next to the TV, and he looked at multiple framed pictures on the wall—me by myself in front of my dorm room, me with Kendy and my aunt, and me and Nana. I emptied the salad into bowls and sat down on the stool.

“You’re an attractive woman,” he said, still examining the pictures, particularly the single one of me alone.

“Yeah, right,” I said. “Ha-ha,” I mocked.

“I can see why you don’t think so.”

“I don’t think so because I’m not conceited.” I stuck my tongue out at him and his dimple appeared.

“Well, take me for instance. I’m smart, an exceptional athlete, and obscenely good-looking. And I know this to be true,” he boasted.

“You forgot conceited,” I said, stuffing my mouth with a forkful of salad.

“My parents have told me this all my life. You, on the other hand, have never been told these things.” He moved to the island, taking the stool next to me.

“Oh no, that’s where you’re wrong,” I said, my mouth full of food. “I’ve been told that I’m sexy and hot, especially when my ex-boyfriend was banging me in the back of his car.” I laughed and half-snorted as a piece of lettuce fell out of my mouth.

“You’re crazy,” he said, shaking his head.

“You are so beautiful to me. Oh, can’t you see?” I said in my sing-song voice, wiggling my eyebrows.

“Okay, let’s talk about something else. I know I’m hot. Now, your turn.”

I turned, directly facing him. “Why are you so conceited?” I said, pointing my fork in his direction. “Maybe your parents should have toned it down instead of telling you that you were king of the world, master of the universe.”

The smile he had a moment earlier slowly left his face. “It’s just how they see me. I don’t want to disappoint them, so I try my hardest not to.”

I sensed his mood shift.

I’d meant my question to be funny, but all of a sudden, his chestnut eyes showed a vulnerability I’d never seen before. He lowered his head into his salad, and I was taken aback, shocked at the walking contradiction in front of me. On the outside, he seemed confident when inside, he was rattled with insecurity.

“Is that why you don’t want to work with your father?” I asked. “Because you’re afraid you’d disappoint them?”

He shrugged and furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at the salad in front of him.

“It’s not that you don’t
want
to work for your father. It’s just that you’re afraid because you might not live up to his expectations? Is that it?” I studied his profile from his eyebrows pulled into a V to his chestnut eyes and then to his downward turned lips.

I had a sudden urge to console him.

When he didn’t answer, I placed my hand on his shoulder. “He’ll love you anyway. He’s your dad, and during the brief moment when I met him, I know it wouldn’t matter to him.”

The same pride I’d seen in Mr. Plack’s face—the way he had lit up when he first saw Kent at the golf club, naturally excited to see him—had mimicked Nana’s face every time she had seen me. There was unconditional love there. I knew it and recognized it because I’d felt it every day with my Nana.

I met his line of sight. “How could you not succeed, Mr. Princeton? All you need to do is try.”

He shook his head to break himself out of his trance. “I’m always a little too honest with you.” He met my eyes. “How did this conversation end up here? Let’s eat, shall we?” he said, changing the subject.

I studied his face, but then I let it go. Sometimes, well, most of the time, I would rather not talk about my family.

“I love how you change the subject when we were just getting serious.” I maneuvered to the fridge. “Okay, what do you want to drink? We have water, juice, and milk. Oh, I think I still have one can of pop here somewhere.”

I had my head in the fridge when I heard boisterous, uninhibited laughter coming from behind me. I turned to see he was standing right next to my laundry basket that I left next to the kitchen island. At that moment, I wanted to die.

“Wow, I’ve seen a lot of things before, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything this big.” He pinched my overly large flowery pink-and-green underwear with his fingers on each side of the cotton. His eyes squinted, and both dimples appeared on his face as pretended to examine what he had hold of.

“Kent, drop my granny panties, right now!” I yelled, my ears warming from embarrassment. I bolted toward him and snatched them from his hands.

“Granny panties?” He held his stomach as his laughter echoed through the whole apartment. “Oh. My. God. Granny panties.”

“You’re mean. I only use them when I don’t have any clean underwear or when I’m on my period.”

His laughter halted as he blinked. He looked at my underwear and then to his hands, making a face.

“They’re clean, dummy.” I dropped the panties into the basket and walked it back into my room.

We ate, we lounged, and I introduced him to every reality TV show there was. Before I knew it, I glanced up and realized the sun was setting. I didn’t realize so much time had passed until my stomach grumbled, reminding me of dinnertime.

“What do you want for dinner? I’ll order,” I said, grabbing the phone next to me. “Pizza?”

“Sure. Pepperoni and sausage,” he said.

I walked to the kitchen, snatched my many coupons that were held together by magnets on the fridge, and picked up the phone to place the order.

When the pizza arrived, Kent tipped the delivery boy and walked comfortably to the kitchen island. He reached in the cabinets to look for plates and unloaded the food from the box.

“Can you bring the food in here? I’m being lazy.” I was flipping through the channels, still in the same position, while lying on the couch.

He brought the food over, placed it on the low glass table in front of the couch, and sat on the floor in front of me. “Who’s this actor?” he asked, nodding toward the TV.

“Channing Tatum. He’s in a new movie coming out on Friday,” I answered.

“I’ve never seen any of his movies,” he mumbled between chews. “Aren’t you going to eat your pizza?” he said, eyeing my food in front of him.

“I’ll eat it in a bit.” I stretched my legs on the couch and rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands. Tiredness filtered through my body as I thought of the night before. “I had a late night last night. Brian has been working crazy hours, and we finally had a chance to go on another date.”

“Oh, yeah? How was your date? Are the flowers from him?”

“Yeah, he buys me flowers on every date,” I swooned, glancing at the dozen red roses sitting on my counter.

“Flowers die. He should buy you diamonds. Diamonds last forever.”

My mouth dropped at his comment. “You don’t buy your dates diamonds, do you?” I asked, plopping my head on my hand as my elbow rested on the cushion.

He shook his head. “I don’t go on dates, Beth. My father stopped buying my mother flowers years ago. He buys her jewelry instead.” He laughed. “Anyway, keep going. Your date?” he prompted.

“My date was great as always,” I said, all giddy. I moved to a sitting position, tucked my feet under my bottom, and hugged the couch pillow close to my chest. My eyes were glued on the TV, but my thoughts were brought back to the most wonderful date I’d had the night before.

At this, Kent spun around. “Great?” he asked. “So, was last night Brian’s lucky night?”

“That’s none of your business.” I squirmed and pulled the pillow closer to my chest. My eyes moved from him back to the TV.

“You like him?” he asked, a smirk on his face.

“Yes, I really do.” I sighed, smiling at the TV like an idiot.

“I like seeing you like this. So, tell me the details.” He glanced up at me from his sitting position on the floor.

“What details?”

“Was he good?” Kent’s face showed amusement.

He was making me uncomfortable, and he took pleasure in every minute of it.

“There are no details to tell. This is getting weird,” I dismissed. I shifted, pulled my knees up to my chest, and placed the pillow on top of my knees.

“So, did he give you one of the best mind-blowing orgasms you’ve ever had? Is that why you like him?” He put down his pizza and shifted to face me, still sitting on the floor. “Come on, I know this is what girls talk about. I’m interested to know.” He smirked, totally delighting in my unease.

“Gross. No. I’m not talking to you about this stuff,” I said, wrinkling my nose and fidgeting in my seat.

“Why not? I tell you everything. Okay, so is that no, he didn’t move your universe? Or yes, he did?” he asked.

“No, I’m not telling you. Okay? Drop it.”

“Come on, tell me, Beth. Just tell me yes or no. Yes? Or no?” he pressed as both dimples emerged.

“Yes or no to what?”

“Did he give you the best mind-shattering orgasm you’ve ever had in your life? Yes or no?” he asked.