Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(14)

“Not really. I don’t know the guy or know of him. I’m grateful he kissed me back last night, and I feel bad for him. It seems like he’s going through a tough spot, so I thought I’d listen to what he has to say. Plus, he can possibly help me with my assignment. It’s all business.”

“That’s until you find yourself crushing on him.”

“Oh please,” I scoff while neatly making hospital corners on my bed. Nothing is more soothing than sleeping in a properly made bed. “I have better things to do than fall for some guy ten years older than me.”

“Ten years?” Ross asks. “Huh, I wouldn’t have guessed that. But you know what that means? Ten years older . . .”

“What?” I ask while placing my white comforter back on the bed.

“Experience.”

“So?”

“I mean . . . bedroom experience.”

I roll my eyes. “I knew what you meant.”

“You should be excited about that. After being with Yonny, who was subpar at best, this should give you some joy.”

“First of all, I have zero intention of sleeping with this man. If we do any kind of agreement, there will be nothing sexual about the interaction. All business. And second, who’s to say he’s even good at sex?”

“Did you see his forearms?” Ross asks. “They were all ripply and muscular. Trust me, he’s good in bed. I bet he has a piercing.”

“Oh my God, you’ve lost it.” I move around him.

“He has the tattoos and the scruffy hair. Broad shoulders. Wicked lips. Roguish eyes. There is no doubt he also has a pierced cock. And with the way you love giving head, could you imagine if there was a piercing on it?”

I do love giving head. I don’t know why. Something about the control of it all, but I’ve never given a guy a blow job who had a piercing. It might be fun. Wait, what am I thinking? No. That’s not something I’m going to imagine.

“Listen, Ross. I have too much going on to even consider a relationship at the moment. This whole fake dating thing might actually be good. We could use each other when needed without the pressure of having to . . . you know . . . be all couple-y. He needs help. I need help. With the holidays coming up and the stupid parties we’ll have to go to, it might be beneficial.”

“You’re serious,” Ross deadpans. “You’re actually thinking about doing this?”

“The more I do, the more I believe it might be a good idea. Although, I want to hear his proposal first of course. Milk this thing for all I can.”

Ross shakes his head at me before sitting on my desk chair. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? I don’t think I could be like you. Act like I’m dating someone and not get feelings for that person.”

“What’s there to get feelings about? This is business. It’s like purchasing the perfect winter slippers. But instead of slippers, I’m purchasing a fake boyfriend. Simple. And it’s not like he’ll want to start a relationship, hence the need for something fake. I know nothing about hockey other than the fact that it’s a long-ass, never-ending season, and I’m sure he’ll be quite busy. It’s beneficial for both parties.”

“And what happens if there’s an event he can’t show up at because he’s so busy?”

“Uh, duh, I just say my boyfriend is playing a game, simple as that. It’s not like they’ll assume I’m lying. They can look it up on the Internet. Seriously, this might be the best plan I’ve ever had. I can keep Candace pissed, learn about hockey, use him for parties and gatherings when I need to, and then wash our hands of the agreement when we’re all done. Simple.”

Ross shakes his head in disbelief. “I think you’re making it out to be that simple, but you’re forgetting one thing.”

“What’s that?” I ask as I finish fitting my pillows in their fresh cases.

“You’re a romantic at heart, a daydreamer, someone who gets lost in her feelings. If you truly think you can make an arrangement with a man like Silas Taters and not catch feelings, you’ve lost your damn mind.”

I plop my pillow on my bed and smile at him. “Watch me.”





Chapter Four





SILAS





She lives in a dorm?

A fucking dorm?

Jesus Christ, what the hell am I doing?

I rub my hand over my forehead, absolutely humiliated as I sit in my Tesla. Staring at the dorm entrance, I wonder if I’ll be able to muster enough courage to walk up to those doors and go in.

I spent the morning figuring out where to get a meaty sandwich and pickle combo. When I found a place, I ordered five different sandwiches because I was unsure what she would want.

The boys asked me how I was this morning. I told them I was great, that I didn’t think Sarah would be a problem, and not to worry about me. I think they bought it. At least, I hope they did because if the number of text messages I got from them is any indication of how they’re going to play this Sarah thing out, I truly hope they bought it.

No way in hell was I going to tell them about Ollie and what happened last night. Or the fact I’m sitting in a dorm parking lot with a bagful of sandwiches and pickles, looking to make a college girl my pretend girlfriend. They’d believe I’ve lost my mind. They’d probably try to have me committed if I’m honest. Some sort of intervention would occur.