Chapter 19 #3
But even though some part of me sees Graham as mine, I know that it’s me being silly, so I give her a tight smile and start to answer.
“This is my—”
“Her boyfriend,” Graham startles me by saying.
“You’re dating June?” she asks, unable to hide her shock. I force myself to remain neutral, to now show shock at Graham’s words or irritation at Cece’s insinuation.
“Found the most gorgeous woman in Seaside Point, had to do whatever I could to make her mine,” he says, a smug smirk on his lips.
It’s not one of the radiant smiles I’ve seen, something that gives me strange relief since I wouldn’t want to share that with Cece.
Instead, this one is all sex appeal and cocky attitude.
His actions punctuate it, his hand moving to my hip and wrapping to my waist, tugging me into his side and pressing his lips to my hair.
“June would never date a tourist,” Cece says with a shake of her head. “She hates them.”
That’s not completely true, but I don’t get the opportunity to correct her before Graham is speaking.
“Good thing I’m not a tourist then, huh? My lady luck here sold me on this place,” he says.
The words roll off his lips so easily, I almost buy them myself.
My lady luck.
God, what I’d give to have him call me that for real.
Despite common sense, I find myself melting into his side, soaking it in. He smells good, musky and woodsy, expensive cologne mixed with sweat from walking in the heat for the past hour. I wish I could bottle it up, save it for a day when I’m feeling lonely.
“Hmm,” Cece says, breaking into my messy thoughts.
“Well, I hope you have a great day. Great meeting you,” Graham says, staring her down, and pulling me closer into him until my hand has to move to his chest to catch myself. I let it rest there, feeling the hard muscles against my forehead, and even his hot chest can’t distract me from my misery.
“I’m so screwed,” I whisper. “She totally didn’t buy it, and now she’s going to tell everyone that I’m a big fat loser who needs her hot boss to pretend he’s my boyfriend to not let the mean girl make fun of me.”
A smile crosses Graham’s face, the real one, and even though it is magnificent, I elbow him. A wide grin spreads across his lips, showing me the dimple I find myself doing everything in my power to see. “It’s not funny!” I say, but there’s a smile in my words. He pulls me in closer.
“It’s a little funny,” he mutters. Then he pulls me into him fully, his hand settling on my lower back, pulling me chest to chest with him as his other hand slowly tips my chin up.
“What are you doing?” I ask, whispering, my back to Cece.
“She’s still watching us. I’m selling it,” he says.
Before I can ask what he means, his lips are on mine.
A gasp leaves my lips, but he holds me closer.
On instinct, my free hand moves up to his shoulder, the other gripping the fabric of his tee, clinging onto him.
His lips move along mine, his kiss soft and sweet and just as good as I convinced myself it was that first night.
Except better, because it’s relaxed and casual, as if we do it every single day. His hand is on my waist, his other cupping my chin to position me where he wants me.
It’s the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life.
He pulls back, then looks over my shoulder, checking to see if our ruse worked, but my mind is in the clouds.
“She’s still there. Across the street, watching,” he says, then leans his head down again, kissing me deeper this time.
His fingers delve into my hair, and without thinking, my hands move to his neck, resting there and pulling my body tighter.
We kiss and kiss and kiss, and even though I know I will be terribly confused and unsure later, even though with my complex emotions about Graham, I should be keeping my distance, I can’t find it in me to care right now.
It’s the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life, even if it is all fake.
Just my luck.
After long moments, Graham pulls away, looking over his shoulder and resting his forehead against mine. My chest is heaving, though I try to hide how much that kiss impacted me. “She’s gone,” he says.
“Thank you,” I murmur, my breathing heavy.
“That’s what friends do, right?” he asks, a small tip of his lips as we separate, but I can’t even revel in the fact that he called us friends.
Because for me, nothing about that kiss felt friendly.
Not in the least.
Looking over toward where Graham said he saw Cece, I spy the tiniest dot of her hot-pink bikini, barely visible from here. I wonder if she might have started running. If she stopped on the street corner just a minute ago, I can’t imagine she would have gotten that far otherwise.
“What was she talking about?” he asked, distracting me from my pondering. “A mural?” It’s like a bucket of ice water on my body, and I sigh, then I start moving toward the office.
“The town is accepting bids for a big mural in town.” I roll my eyes, irritation filling me at the reminder. “Cece’s dad is on the town council, so she’s kind of got it on lock, so there’s no point in anyone else applying.”
“So because she’s a spoiled brat, you’re not even going to bid?”
I lift a shoulder, keeping my eyes straight ahead.
“I’m unqualified, and I don’t know how to put together a proposal, and in the end, it would be for nothing.
Chet is just going to manipulate it so that Cece gets the mural.
” He’s silent as we walk, and after a bit, I look at him to see he’s watching me, confusion on his face.
“All that luck and you’re not even going to try?”
I scrunch my nose.
“Why do I feel like you keep using that against me?”
He lifts a shoulder. “You force me to be social and accept you as a friend; I force you to take chances. It’s worked out pretty well for us so far, don’t you think?”
I can’t argue, and he knows it. He bumps his shoulder into mine.
“So?
“So what?”
“So are you going to do it?” I scrunch my nose, and he continues. “Oh, come on, June. You have to. No one loves this town like you, and you’re talented. Even the Mayor thinks you’re going to apply.”
I forgot he was there when that happened.
“I don’t know…” I say, biting my lip, but he’s looking at me like he genuinely believes in me, like he’ll be disappointed if I say no.
I wonder if this is Graham’s own version of pleading puppy dog eyes.
I groan. “I’ll… I’ll work on the sketch tonight,” I agree, defeat in the words, and he smiles wide, nothing like the fake look he gave Cece.
This one is all mine, all because of what I did. “No promises, though.”
“Of course not,” he says with a small smile. “But you’ll work on a sketch tonight?”
I nod.
“Yeah. I’ll see if anything feels…natural,” I say, not telling him I already have a concept I love or that I have commissions to work on or how I should be making more canvases for my shop.
Still, that night, like promised, I paint.
I paint for hours, feeling energized and inspired.
But when I paint, it’s not smiles or shorelines or even a mural concept that I work on.
It’s hands and lips and hooded eyes that I can’t seem to get out of my mind. The promise of something I can’t have, and suddenly, it feels like the unluckiest thing of all.