From the writer of Sweet Spot, comes the sequel of two familiar characters you already saw coming.
Harper Davis has many titles: marketing connoisseur, almost-lawyer, disappointment to parents, and most importantly: liar. Big. Fat. Liar. But what el...
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"Oh God, oh God, oh God."
"I get that a lot."
And I regret everything.
Sawyer throws his head back and laughs at the glare I swing his way. He got to my apartment all of five minutes ago and already I'm prepared to call our agreement off.
Fake dating Sawyer James. What the hell was I thinking?
"You're not helping," I growl and angrily check off my to-do list, swiping task after task on the whiteboard. "And if you're not here to help then you shouldn't be here at all."
Clean the house. Check.
Prepare authentic only Chinese food from my grandmama's recipes. Check.
Obnoxiously display my award for organizing the most charities this year in hopes of impressing them. Check.
Put out the ugly heirloom goldfish that my mother insists will bring me luck. Check.
Jump out the window when they get here. Pending.
"That's a big fall," a low voice drawls in my ear, and way too close for comfort. "As my girlfriend, I can't let you get hurt."
I almost drop the dry-erase marker. That was the first time Sawyer addressed me as the g word and I'm torn between wanting to rock in a corner or laugh hysterically in his face. I nudge him away before I have the chance to do either.
"Not your girlfriend."
"Sure are. And you better get used to it or Mr. and Mrs. Davis are going to have a lot of questions."
I hate it when he's right. They'll be here in a few minutes and I'm still in denial of the arrangement I agreed to. The one I'm absolutely screwed without.
"Fine," I relent and turn to face him. I keep my once-over of him short. He sure dressed the part, as always. Trousers, a button down, hair slicked back to perfection—he definitely comes off as impressive and put together. Can't relate. "Just don't call me your girlfriend too often. I'm still learning how to hold back the urge to puke all over you."
"And they say romance is dead." He tweaks my nose, eyes gleaming. "Sawyer and Harper, sitting in a tree."
"Grow up," I roll my eyes, horrified of the small smile that gets the better of me. "That kind of behaviour is not welcome in front of my parents."
He walks backwards until he's sitting on my bed and leans back on his palms. I remind myself to burn those sheets once he leaves. I don't want to sleep in Sawyer cooties tonight. Or ever. Like, never.
"Wouldn't worry about it, Tink." He does a scroll of my body that suddenly makes my plain white sundress feel much less conservative. I might as well be wearing nothing right now. "I'll keep that kind of behaviour for when they're not around."
