Faking It (Losing It, #2)(9)

I leaned over, placed my hand on his thigh, and pinched. His thigh was strapped with muscle, and he didn’t even jump at my pinch. He put his hand over mine, and flattened my palm against his leg. I tried to pull away, but he held it there, his large, warm hand pressed mine into his hard thigh. Now it was me who needed to be pinched because I was looking at my hand on his leg, and thinking too much about the skin that lay beneath the material of his jeans. I’d forgotten why I was upset in the first place.

I shook my head and smiled at my parents; splitting my lips to show teeth felt like cracking open concrete. “Listen, Mom and Dad, Cade and I really have to get going. I didn’t know you guys were coming or I would have rearranged my schedule.”

Dad hefted himself up from the table, and tugged his pants up higher. “Oh, no worries, Pumpkin. We’re staying at a hotel not too far from you in the nicer part of town.”

Meaning my place was a dump. Which it wasn’t, it was just in Chinatown, and Dad felt uncomfortable when all the signs weren’t in English.

Mom joined him, “Besides, we’ll see both of you tomorrow for Thanksgiving!”

“Oh, Mom, I really don’t think Cade can—”

“Nonsense. I heard him say over the phone that he was free, and I won’t take no for an answer. No more hiding this nice, young man from us. You clearly adore each other, and sooner or later slow becomes an excuse like any other.”

We did not adore each other.

My eyes caught on the line of his jaw, but I forced my gaze away.

We didn’t.

I didn’t care how handsome this guy was or how warm his hand was on mine. and said, “Really?”nd19

“Mom—”

“Mackenzie Kathleen Miller, don’t you argue with me. Now, Cade.” She fixed her eyes on him, and it was her maniac stare, the one like the picture on my cell phone. “Tell me you’ll see me tomorrow, and then go talk som1.1//Ee N" "http://www





5

Cade

There was a moment of silence after Max’s parents left that reminded me of those few shocked seconds right before a car crash. Your brain screams at you to step on the breaks, but it takes too long for your body to follow through. It was in those quiet seconds that Max smiled a slow, sinful smile.

Then slapped me.

It didn’t hurt. Not really.

But it felt surreal, like the car had crashed, and I was flying through the windshield. I’d never been slapped by a girl before. I think I was definitely the only guy in the world to ever get slapped for impressing a girl’s parents.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

Max’s cheeks turned pink, and she raised her hand to do it again.

“Easy, babe.” I caught her hand as it started to swing, and pushed it down onto the table. That meant I had one hand pressed to my leg and the other to the table. The violent little thing was tied up in knots. She tilted her chin and met my gaze like she was going into battle. Fire sparked in her eyes, and she looked dangerously sexy.

“Why are you trying to hurt me?” I asked.

“Because it will make me feel better!”

Having her hand on my thigh was not helping me take her anger seriously. And her skin had flushed from her cheeks, down her neck, and I wished she wasn’t wearing my scarf. “It’s not like I wanted to say yes. Your mother isn’t exactly easy to say no to.”

She huffed and squirmed in her seat, trying to pull her hands free. It only brought her closer to me. The red in her cheeks matched the vibrancy of her hair, which smelled divine.

“You could have at least not made up such a ridiculous backstory. I mean, volunteering at an after-school program? I told you to take it easy!” She growled the words through gritted teeth.

“Max, I didn’t make that up. I just told the truth. And stop struggling, people are starting to stare.”

She stopped and a lock of scarlet hair hung down in front of her face. She blew it back and said, “You told the truth?”

After a few moments}elkas, I released her hands, and held my right out between us. “My name is Cade Winston—MFA student, volunteer, mom-hugger, and your boyfriend for the next twenty-four hours. It’s nice to meet you.”

She hesitated, and her lips puckered. I knew she was only thinking, but the pucker sent my mind running in an entirely different direction.

“You really do volunteer to help kids after school?” She made it sound like I was aiming for the Nobel Peace Prize or something. They were just kids who needed a place to hang out.

I said, “I really do.”

After a few moments of hesitation, she slipped her hand into mine and shook. She frowned and said, “Max Miller—musician and raging bitch. I’m sorry for slapping you.”

“And pinching me,” I added, even though I wasn’t sorry. It had given me an excuse to touch her.

“And pinching you. And thank you, I guess, for today. And for tomorrow. And sorry number two that you have to spend your Thanksgiving with my crazy parents.”

I smiled. She had this scrunched look on her face, and I could just tell that an apology from this girl was a rare occurrence. I shrugged. “Hey, don’t feel bad. I was planning to spend tomorrow home alone with some Chinese food. I’m sure your mother’s turkey is much better.”

She smiled begrudgingly. “It is. She’s a crazy good cook. Emphasis on the crazy.”