Chapter 10
JOHN
Iam crushing Step Three.
When we’re in the back seat of the car, returning to my house, I respond to emails on my phone, but I can see in my peripheral vision that Olivia keeps turning her head to stare at me in disbelief.
I send one last email, pocket my phone, and give my beautiful date my full attention. “Hi. What?”
“How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Behave like the perfect boyfriend when we were at the restaurant?”
“Oh. I’ve observed what women respond to in other men. It’s just acting.”
She winces—almost imperceptibly, but I catch it.
“Sorry,” I say. “Should I have sugarcoated that?”
Her brow furrows. “No. Painfully honest I can deal with. I guess I just don’t see why you can’t act like that all the time.”
I can’t help but laugh at that, even though she clearly did not mean it as a joke.
It’s a surprisingly naive thing for her to say.
“Nobody acts like the perfect boyfriend all the time, Olivia. I like you even when I’m not acting like that.
There are plenty of guys who behave like the perfect boyfriend yet are, by definition, terrible boyfriends, in that they lie, cheat, insult their women—all while putting on a pleasant public facade.
” Studying her face, I wait for the fire in her eyes.
Does she feel insulted? Should this not be a discussion?
But I see no anger there. So I add, “And aren’t you the one who said you don’t want a boyfriend? ”
“That was me. And I do hear what you’re saying… But why can’t you spend the next month acting like the perfect boyfriend even fifteen percent of the time?”
I smile and take her hand. “Fifteen percent of all time, or fifteen percent of the time I spend with you?” Raising her hand to my lips again, I press a kiss against it.
Not because I’ve seen men do this, but because I want to.
“It wouldn’t be feasible for me to devote fifteen percent of every waking hour acting like the perfect boyfriend for the entire month, I’m afraid.
But it might be possible for me to spend ten percent of my time with you behaving in a way that’s compliant with your expectations for the mythical perfect boyfriend. ”
She’s stroking the palm of my hand with her fingertips. It’s such a delicate, subtle movement, but it threatens to unhinge me. I look into her eyes. And here comes the fire I’ve been waiting for.
“What if I’m not negotiating?” she asks.
“I’m giving up one hundred percent of my time to be with you for an entire month—you should be able to pretend to be a perfect boyfriend for at least fifteen percent of that time.
I deserve that.” Her eyes widen, and she covers her mouth with her free hand, glancing over at Richard. “Sorry!” she whispers to me.
“It’s okay. Richard has signed a nondisclosure agreement too. He overhears a lot of business calls while he’s driving me.”
“Oh.” She pulls her hand from mine and looks out the window.
“What’s wrong? I’ll agree to your demand.”
Looking out the window, Olivia shakes her head and then turns to face me again. “Was Montana Reed an arrangement too?”
She Googled me. That’s not surprising, but it is somewhat disappointing.
“My roommate Googled you and told me you dated a supermodel last year,” she’s quick to explain. “What kind of term sheet did you have with her? I’m assuming it was a similar arrangement.” She lifts her chin defiantly.
“Why would you assume that?”
“Because I’ve met you.”
I raise my eyebrows at her. “Have you met Montana?”
“The state or the model?”
“I happen to know that you’ve never been to Montana the state.”
“Yeah, I haven’t met either of them. But she looks…nice.”
“She is. It’s not the first word I’d use to describe her. But our conversations weren’t stimulating, so I ended it.”
Olivia scoffs at that. “You ended it with her?”
I shift around in the seat. I hadn’t thought of Montana since Monty brought her up. It makes me uncomfortable. “Yes. It wasn’t as easy to end the relationship as I thought it would be. She was…more hung up on me than I’d realized.”
“Right. I’m sure.”
I shrug. “It makes no difference to me if you believe me or not.”
After a pause, she says, “What are you going to say when we break up?”
That’s not a question I’m willing to answer because I don’t think it’s the right question. I answer her by reaching out to push a loose wave of hair behind her ear and then dragging my fingertips down the side of her neck. “Are you still hungry? You didn’t eat much at the restaurant.”
She looks at me like I just asked her if she’s crazy. I’m quite sure I didn’t. “Answer my question.”
“How about I answer it after you’ve eaten? You’ve always been exceedingly short tempered when you’re hungry.”
“I’m not short tempered!” she snaps.
I smile. “My mistake.” And there’s that scowl that I’m so fond of.
Olivia laughs and punches my arm. “I am hungry. Damn you.”
“You should be able to find something at the house. I gave Gracia a list of your favorite breakfast and snack-food items.”
She cocks her head to one side. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“All of your smoothie ingredients. For protein powder–based smoothies and fresh green smoothies. Also, brown organic free-run eggs, organic turkey bacon, high-protein waffles, high-protein instant oatmeal, organic rolled oats, organic apples and bananas and walnuts, organic full-fat Greek yogurt, gluten-free high-fiber muffins, organic dark maple syrup, organic almonds, organic almond milk, English Breakfast tea, Irish butter, sprouted organic-grain bread, conventional avocado, Red Vines, Green & Black’s milk chocolate with almonds and white chocolate, organic powdered cacao, turmeric powder, cinnamon and raw honey for your weird yellow warm nut-milk drink…
high-protein mint-chocolate-chip ice cream, organic plain kettle chips…
Did I forget anything?” When I look over at her, she appears to be dumbfounded.
It’s very satisfying. “We have Ritual coffee now too.”
She clears her throat. “What kind of cinnamon?”
“Ceylon. Both powder and stick form.”
She blinks once and then looks down at her hands.
I feel my phone vibrate, but I ignore it. Olivia has my full attention.
“I can’t believe you remember all that,” she says softly.
“It’s just a shopping list.”
Her eyes widen. “Wait. Did you watch my ‘What I Eat in a Day’ videos after I made them public?”
Busted. “I may have watched several of them before they were made private. Yes. I learned a lot from them.”
“Oh, did you now?” She has softened. I like it when she’s fiery, but I like this side of her too. It’s rare for me to see it. “I remember you like my mom’s zucchini-banana bread. Or at least you said you did.”
That makes me smile. It’s not a list, but it’s enough.
Olivia reaches for my arm and brings my hand to her lap, holding it tentatively between her hands, like my hand is a small domesticated animal that might suddenly bite her. “Do you remember the time I sprinkled cayenne pepper on your Red Vines?”
“I remember everything you’ve ever said and done around me, Olivia. Even when it seemed like I wasn’t paying attention.”
She looks up at me. “You mean you remember everything everyone ever says and does?”
“No. I have a selective memory. I try not to retain any information I don’t need.”
Her eyelashes flutter. Her hands close in on mine a little tighter.
She is flattered by this statement, but I can see that she is about to challenge me anyway.
And that is why I like her. She’s the ballerina, but she keeps me on my toes.
“Aren’t you worried you aren’t creating as many new neural pathways as you could if you don’t try to learn and remember new things? ”
I drag my free index finger from the V that forms between her own thumb and index finger all the way up her arm to her shoulder, across her collarbone. “I’d rather form neural pathways learning new things about you.”
She shivers and catches her breath. I’ve said the right thing. The thing she didn’t expect. I am so nailing Step Three.
Olivia grabs the hand that’s hovering over her collarbone with both of hers and draws it down, over her heart.
I can feel her heart beating. I can see her nipples forming hard buds beneath two layers of fabric.
She’s staring at me, eyes wide, lips parted.
And I watch as that expression of mild astonishment turns to one of seduction.
Her eyelids are heavy now. She bites her lower lip as she stares at my mouth.
She pushes my hand, slowly, under the deep V neckline of her emerald-green dress. Just an inch or two.
It’s more than an invitation.
It’s more than a dare.
I feel her chest rise and fall beneath my hand.
I caress the soft flesh of her breast with my fingertips.
Barely. Her skin there is as smooth as I always knew it would be and warmer than I had ever imagined.
She is achingly beautiful, and I am aching to see and touch and taste and excite every inch of her.
But there is a wild, passionate girl living inside that ballet-conditioned body.
As soon as I connect with that part of her, I will be tested in a way that I’ve never been tested before.
She glances down and sees the part of me that is beyond ready to meet her energy where it lives.
Her lips curl into a grin because she knows the part of me that’s in charge has no intention of touching more bare skin on her body yet.
I glance over at the rearview mirror and catch Richard’s bulging eyes reflected in it before they shift back to the road ahead.
I lean in to whisper in her ear: “Have I done my fifteen percent for the day yet?”