Chapter 18Pretty, Petty, and Perfect – Vic
Chapter 18
Pretty, Petty, and Perfect – Vic
T here are many things I can fake in this arrangement with Kerry—our relationship, our dates, and our perfect-for-each-other smiles when the cameras are on.
But what I can’t fake?
What I don’t even try to fake anymore?
Is the way I want her.
It’s a dangerous kind of want that lingers long after she’s gone.
The kind that curls in my gut like a craving I can’t shake.
The kind that makes me think about her at all the wrong times and in all the wrong ways.
And the worst part?
She has no damn clue.
No idea how often she’s on my mind, how she’s wormed her way under my skin, how she’s made me feel again after I swore I never would.
I should fight it.
I should keep my distance.
I should remember that this isn’t real.
But every time I see her, every time she laughs, every time she looks at me like I’m hers and she’s mine, I start to believe this could be my reality.
But today isn’t about my feelings or desires.
Today is all about business, and I need to make sure I take care of it.
We’re soft launching my first nationally televised show, Cookin’ with Chef Grimes , on network television in the fall.
So, I need to practice and get comfortable.
I can talk in private or at a business dinner with no issue.
I can definitely turn on the charm when my good luck charm Kerry’s is around.
But what I can’t do is talk blindly to the camera about nothing, and that’s exactly what I feel like I’ll be doing.
I let out a slow breath through my nose, already annoyed while Hudson leans against my desk with arms crossed and masking his annoyance with a grin .
“Vic, I don’t know why you’re acting like this is some inconvenience. Ratings matter, and Krista Ray is gonna take the show to a new level. You’re about to have a gorgeous co-host.”
I grunt, tossing a pen onto my desk.
“Oh yeah? Well, I don’t need some perky influencer butchering my recipes and acting like they know what the hell they’re doing just because they went viral for putting ranch on spaghetti.”
Hudson rolls his eyes.
“You need someone with an actual personality, Vic. Someone who can balance out your brooding, serious chef vibes. You might know food, but Krista knows people. And if you want this show to take off, that’s just as important.”
I sigh, giving in.
“If you’re done trying to convince me to sell my soul, get out of my office.” I nod toward the door.
“I have important business to handle.”
He raises a brow.
“Oh, you mean talk to Kerry?”
Guilty as charged.
I don’t answer.
I just glance down at the tablet in front of me like I suddenly forgot how to read.
He exhales, all dramatic.
“You’re lucky I like her. Otherwise, I’d drag your lovesick ass outta here myself.”
I look up.
“Meaning?”
Hudson shakes his head.
“Meaning this little charade. It’s got an expiration date, my guy. And when it hits? You’re gonna be sick in a whole different way.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
He turns, deadpan.
“Fine, don’t believe me. But if I see one more blog post, selfie, or paparazzi pic of y’all at brunch with matching smiles and touching foreheads, I’m exposing your asses myself.”
I laugh.
He points at me.
“Tell your woman I said hello. I’ll run the meeting while you finish pretending you’re not already planning your life with her. You’re welcome. ”
Hours later, after chatting with the girls and stealing moments with Kerry, I sit at my desk and actually get work done.
I craft recipe after recipe.
It’s been a while since I’ve been this inspired.
Kerry’s been pushing me to stretch beyond my recipe palette and even go back to my roots.
I’m almost done with the entire menu, and I can’t wait to cook each dish for her .
Shortly after, my phone rings, and it’s a video call from Kerry.
I answer without looking up.
“Hold on for a second; I’m almost done with this masterpiece of a recipe. You’re my muse, Kerry Kind.”
I hear her soft laugh, but before she can respond, there’s a knock at my door.
“Come in.” I say absently, still buried in my notes.
Then, a bright, cheery voice rings through my office, “Well, hello, Chef Grimes! It’s so nice to see you again!”
I finally look up and immediately do a double-take.
Standing in my office is a woman whose face demands attention.
She has deep brown skin, long legs, and curves that damn near defy physics, wearing a strategically fitted, unbuttoned blouse that accentuates her firm, full breasts.
Her skirt is so damn tight I can barely breathe just looking at it.
However, no matter how attractive she may be, only the word “Again?” trails from my mouth.
She beams.
“Yes, again . I’m your new co-host, Krista Ray.”
A bit taken aback, I stand to shake her hand, but she doesn’t wait.
She glides around my desk like we’re long-lost lovers and positions herself so close that I can practically feel the heat radiating off her skin.
Then, she does the unthinkable.
She flirtatiously drags her manicured nail down my chest.
“We can skip the formalities, Victor.” Her voice drops into a seductive buzz, like I’m supposed to be turned on by her perfume, her body, or the feel of her hands on me.
But I’m not.
What the hell is happening?
My entire body stiffens, but her odd behavior continues to get worse.
“I knew you’d come back to me,” She purrs, “And you summoned me in the most romantic way…with my first tv show!”
“Uh…You said your name’s Krista, right?” I ask.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know who the hell you are.”
She laughs and then rolls her eyes.
“Still playing the asshole, I see. But given what you’ve done for me, you clearly aren’t one. So, I’ll play along. I’ll just have to remind you who I am.”
And before I can even process the unholy level of bullshit leaving her mouth, she grabs my face and kisses me .
But I jerk back instantly and push her off.
“What the fuck?”
Then, I hear a voice, one that I love to hear but not now.
Not in its soft, shocked, and hurt tone.
“Uh, Vic?”
My entire world screeches to a halt.
Kerry.
I turn to my desk, where I see her face still on my phone screen.
Her eyes are frozen in disbelief, having watched the encounter unfold.
“I—I should go,” she stammers, her voice tight, barely holding it together.
“The girls need me. I guess I’ll see you soon, Ms. Krista.”
“Kerry, no, wait—”
But the call disconnects.
I clench my jaw and spin around to face Krista, only to see a smirk on her face.
“I don’t mind keeping us a secret, you know? Your little girlfriend seems like such a sweetheart. I’d never want to hurt her.”
“There’s nothing to keep a secret,” I snap.
“I don’t know you. And I damn sure don’t like you. Get out of my office before I get whoever hired you to fire you.”
Her cocky facade flickers, just for a second.
Then, her face twists, first in embarrassment, then in rage.
“Wait, you really don’t remember me?”
“No,” I say coldly.
“And I don’t want to.”
She scoffs, then goes nuclear.
“Three years ago…Albany…The Foodie Awards after-party. We drank, we danced, then you took me back to your hotel room, and we had fun. All night long. Then the next morning, you ghosted me. Never responded to my messages. Just disappeared.”
Holy shit…
it hits me.
I do remember.
Kind of.
I was a wreck back then.
It was three years ago.
I was drinking too much.
Partying too hard.
In a deep depression.
And doing a lot of dumb shit, especially women.
Krista shakes her head.
“Wow,” she laughs, but it’s empty.
“I actually thought you were reaching back out to me by giving me this gig. I can’t believe I thought you felt bad. You really are an asshole, Victor Grimes!”
She storms out of my office, but I don’t care because the only person on my mind is Kerry.
And no matter how many times I call or text, she won’t answer .
After I leave the office, I anxiously rush Gary to drive faster and even end up explaining the situation from earlier to him, hoping to get some wisdom.
“Well, sir,” Gary says, his voice carrying smug amusement that lets me know whatever comes out of his mouth next is going to be useless.
“You need to prove to her that kiss with Krista meant nothing.”
I sigh, rubbing my temple.
“And how do I do that, Gary?”
Gary glances at me in the rearview mirror, completely unfazed by my frustration.
Then, with the confidence of a man who has nothing to lose, he says, “By kissing Ms. Kind.”
I just stare at him and shake my head at his terrible advice.
When we finally make it home, I cautiously enter, fully prepared for Kerry to throw a pot at my head the moment she sees me.
Instead, another sudden impact occurs.
Two small bodies crash into me, nearly knocking me off balance.
Syd and Ari attack me with hugs and kisses, and their giggles instantly soothe the tension in my chest.
As they chatter excitedly about their day, I half-listen as I mentally prepare myself for battle.
But I hear the rolling bag before anything.
Kerry cuts around the corner, tugging her weekend luggage.
Crap, I forgot it’s Friday!
She’s leaving for the weekend.
I can’t let that moment in my office be the last between us before she’s gone.
“Oh, you finally made it home.” She says, amused, almost too amused.
I narrow my eyes, assessing her vibe.
She’s too calm, too light, too fuckin’ cute.
This is a trap.
Kerry dips down to hug the girls goodbye.
“Please spend the weekend with us. We don’t want you to go. We have so much fun on the weekends with Daddy, and it’s high time you join us.” Syd playfully demands.
Kerry laughs.
Syd’s beginning to adopt her country twang.
“I know, Syd. Maybe another weekend, okay? I’ll see you bright and early on Monday morning.”
Then, she turns to me.
I brace myself, but she throws me completely off guard.
Kerry leans in and hugs me, like a real hug—soft, warm, and familiar.
“Sorry, I’m a bit late,” I whisper, my voice even and apologetic.
“I would’ve been here sooner, but I wanted to give you a little time to— ”
“To what?” She interrupts, her tone suddenly mockingly sweet.
“To let the image of some random woman’s tongue in your mouth settle?”
Yep.
There it is.
I’m in trouble.
I exhale sharply, shifting us away from the girls toward the foyer.
“Kerry, she kissed me.”
“Oh, I saw that.” She nods, cool as ice.
“But what really stood out was how long it took for you to push her off.”
I scrub my hand over my face.
“You know that’s not true.”
She tilts her head, studying me.
“Do I?”
“I don’t know that woman. She’s just my co-host, and apparently, we had a…brief encounter a few years ago. But I don’t remember it…at all!”
Kerry laughs.
“Oh, that’s cute, Vic.” She leans in, her finger brushing against my chest, burning through my shirt.
“So, what you’re telling me is, you’ve slept with so many women, they all just start blending together now?” She holds her hands up before I can say anything.
“Don’t even bother answering that question because, for the record,” she whispers over her shoulder as she heads for the door, “I don’t care what you do with your mouth, or your hands, or your dick.”
Lies.
All lies!
So, I follow her straight through the front door and to the driveway, where she just continues to lie.
“And you know what, Vic?” She fusses as she storms toward her car, fumbling through her bag and searching for her keys.
I watch, amused now, letting her unravel.
“I don’t blame you for not remembering. I don’t remember the last man who touched me either. I don’t remember straddling him. I don’t even remember if I had an orgasm.”
She bites her lip.
Like she’s thinking about it right now.
I raise a brow, trying so hard not to laugh.
“Oh really?”
I move fast, cornering her against the car, my hand braced above her head, my body heat sinking into hers.
Her breath hitches, and I lean in, brushing my lips against her ear.
“Stay with me this weekend, Kerry.” My voice is low, thick, and deadly smooth.
“Let me prove to you I don’t remember that girl and let me help you remember the last man who touched you. The way that touch made you melt. Made you wet. Made you tremble. Made you say his name… my name. ”
She gasps, parting her lips and dragging her breath, but then, she does the unthinkable.
She flips the script on me.
Kerry looks down then slowly, deliberately, moves her hand up my thigh.
Higher and higher and higher until her brows furrow, and confusion flashes across her face as her fingers trail over the impossible length of me through my pants.
“ What the—?” Her eyes widen as she tries to wrap her hand around me, but fails.
“Is this thing real? ”
I chuckle, my voice a low rumble with my hips barely shifting into her touch.
Then, I moan—deep, rough, and tortured.
“Fuck remembering the last time, Kerry.” I whisper, my thumb dragging over her lips as her hand caresses my dick.
“Let’s make new memories. Let me kiss you.”
For a second, she doesn’t move.
Her soft, sexy lips part like she might let me.
But then she tilts her head, and a teasing smile blooms across her face.
“Two kisses in one day? I think not. Besides, Mr. Grimes,” she says, her tone all mock sympathy, “Krista’s got enough memories for the both of us.”
She slides her hand into my pocket, moving so damn slow I think she’s about to get me off.
Or at least I want her to.
But instead, she swipes my keys and smirks up at me, dragging her fingers along my hard dick one last time before stepping back like she didn’t just turn me into a helpless, desperate man.
I groan, clench my fists, and tighten my jaw.
And then, this woman looks me dead in my eyes—shameless.
“Your fake girlfriend is off duty now, and she’s taking the Aston Martin for the weekend.”
Kerry flicks the keys in the air, catches them without looking, then reaches up and pats my chest.
She pats my fucking chest like I’m some good little boy and playfully shoves me away as if I’m not standing here so hard I could break cement.
Then, she switches her fine ass away, reminding me exactly how she looked on top of me, gasping my name, writhing under my hands.
I watch her until she’s halfway down the street.
I can’t believe she just left me high and dry, erect, and completely under her spell.