A Not So Meet Cute(35)
I’m so used to eating dinner with Jeff with his napkin tucked into the collar of his shirt and Mom, who likes to give us the rundown on the latest celebrity gossip—which she claims she doesn’t pay attention to—that I’m not sure I’m going to remember my manners, like elbows off the table, small talk that doesn’t revolve around a surprise mole that was found on one’s back, or what kind of chicken bone was tossed over the fence by our grotesque neighbors.
“Thank you so much for having us,” Huxley says in a pleasant voice that nearly startles me out of my designer sandals. “This is Lottie. Lottie, this is Dave and Ellie.”
Dave steps up and offers me his hand. I take it as he says, “Lottie, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” I say, because that’s what people say in movies, when really, I have zero pleasure in meeting this man. It’s actually the opposite of pleasure. It’s . . . it’s . . . displeasure. Yup. It’s a displeasure to meet him. “And, Ellie, it’s so great to meet someone else who’s pregnant. All my friends are in a completely different stage of their lives.”
“I totally get it,” Ellie says, shaking my hand. “I’m in a bit of the same position. Come in, come in. We can talk some more.”
I turn back around to take Huxley’s hand and catch the smallest glint of appreciation in his eyes as we walk into the house.
Hmm . . . maybe he’ll be nicer to me now.
Chapter Seven
HUXLEY
“I hate you,” Lottie whispers into my ear as she stands from the table, her hand lovingly caressing my shoulder as she walks by.
“Thank you, babe,” I say. I keep my eyes on her as she takes my glass and heads into the kitchen for a refill. Not a fan of “serving her man,” as Ellie said. Got it.
Lottie doesn’t seem to be a fan of much.
If it weren’t for her brilliant ability to slap on a smile and act interested in Ellie and Dave’s love story, I know I’d find an unwavering scowl, a gauntlet of sarcastic comments, and maybe a toss of her angry hands here and there.
She’s a spitfire. For a little package, she packs a powerful punch.
It was hard to keep a straight face in the car when she kept getting irritated with me. But I assumed finding humor in her annoyance wasn’t going to win me any points.
“She’s great,” Dave says. “I can see why your grandma introduced you. And Ellie seems to like her a lot.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky,” I say, meaning that. I am a lucky motherfucker, that in such a short amount of time—four days, to be exact—I was able to find someone who had no problem stepping into the role of pregnant fiancée and helping me out.
Such a lucky motherfucker.
Lottie walks back into the room with a glass of water in her hand and a smile on her face as she sashays toward me. That dress, yeah, it’s fucking perfect on her. I knew she had great tits from the first time I met her, but seeing them in this dress? They’re really fucking nice. Not big at all, but the perfect size, less than a handful. And with her hair floating around her shoulders in loose waves, a beautiful chestnut color, she really is gorgeous. Like I said, a lucky motherfucker.
She hands me the glass and then takes a seat. I lean into her ear and ask, “Did you spit in this?”
She leans in close and whispers back, “If Ellie wasn’t helping me, I would’ve licked the rim, spit in the water, and then added vinegar as a delicious touch.”
I pull away and say a little louder so Dave can hear me, “You’re perfect.”
Her hand reaches up to my cheek and she rubs my thick scruff. “I know.”
Dave laughs loudly, while Ellie giggles. “Perfect response for such a powerful man,” Dave says. “I’ve known Huxley for a few years now and he thinks highly of himself, as he should because of the empire he’s put together, but to not reply with he’s perfect . . . that makes my day.”
I’m sure it does, Dave.
Lottie smiles at me, and I can see a wicked gleam in her eye as she turns toward Dave and Ellie. “I know he’d kill me if I said this . . .”
So don’t fucking say it.
“But, he’s far from perfect.” Leaning forward, she says, “The man doesn’t know how to pick up his socks and put them in the hamper.”
Ellie gasps and then points at Dave. “Dave too.”
Dave raises his hand with a coy look. “Guilty. But I’ve gotten better. The nagging has worked.”
“Hmm, maybe I should nag more,” Lottie says. Her hand falls to my thigh, her fingernails applying more pressure than I care for, especially as she drags her hand farther north. Hey, there, watch it. “What do you think, Hux? Care to deal with a nagging fiancée?”
“I thought I already was,” I answer with a wink, letting Dave and Ellie know I’m only teasing her.
“Isn’t he charming?” Lottie asks. “It’s what won me over, his inherent charm that just keeps coming. That, and my grandma said he was a sad and lonely man who needed some fun in his life.”
Don’t care for that. I can see we’re letting loose. Getting comfortable.
That slightly terrifies me, because Lottie is no doubt a loose cannon.