Hate to Date You (Dating #4) - Monica Murphy Page 0,74

to her. I’ll put in some calls first thing Monday and take her to a few appointments on Tuesday. Hopefully we’ll find something she likes.”

“I’m sure you will. She trusts you. That’s why she asked for your help.” Stella reaches out, settling her hand on my forearm. I’m clad in a T-shirt and my boxer briefs. That’s how I answered the door. I’m sure our delivery guy knew what I was up to, but I didn’t give a shit. “Thank you for doing that. It means a lot to me, that you’re so willing to take care of her.”

“I like your grandmother. Helping her find a new place to live will be my pleasure.” I shrug, almost uncomfortable with Stella’s glowing appreciation. “Besides, it’s my job.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet, and don’t act like you’re doing this just because it’s your job. I think you have a crush on her.” Stella leans over and brushes her mouth against mine.

I return the kiss, our lips clinging, our pizza momentarily forgotten. It’s dangerous, how much I like this woman. She makes me forget. She makes me want more.

More than I’ve ever wanted before.

I end the kiss before we get carried away, smirking at her as I reach for yet another piece of pizza. Going down on a woman for approximately twenty minutes straight makes a man hungry. “Tell me you love it.”

She frowns. “Love what?”

“The pizza.” I hold the slice out toward her before I take a bite. “It’s good, right?”

Stella heaves a big sigh. Rolls her eyes. Frowns at me. Then reaches into the box and takes out another slice, depositing it on her plate. “I suppose it’s all right.”

“Ha.” Triumph surges through me. “Told you I’d get you to try it. And that you’d like it.”

“I only said it’s okay,” she says primly. “It’s not my favorite.”

“Uh huh.”

“I doubt I’d ever order it again.”

“Sure.” I don’t believe her at all.

“You’re infuriating.” She grins at me.

“So are you.” Reaching out, I tap the end of her nose. “Wanna do it again when we’re done with dinner?”

“Such a romantic offer,” she teases as she gets up from the chair and starts toward the fridge. I smack her ass just before she walks away, and she glares at me from over her shoulder. “But I’ll take you up on it.”

Twenty-Five

I wasn’t surprised when Grace called me Monday afternoon, asking me if I could change our meeting time for Tuesday to happen in the afternoon versus the morning. No big deal.

What I didn’t expect was Grace to walk into my agency Tuesday afternoon just before two with Stella next to her. My roomie with benefits didn’t mention that she was going with Grandma to look for a condo.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Abbott,” Grace announces herself, making me smile.

Well. I’m smiling at Stella, who’s got an apologetic expression on her face. Does she feel bad for not telling me she would be here?

It’s kind of odd, that she didn’t tell me.

“Hey.” I was sitting at my desk when they entered, and I stand immediately, tempted to go to Stella and press a kiss to her pretty lips, but I restrain myself. Instead I go to Grace and take one of her hands, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You made it.”

“Of course we did.” Grace practically harrumphs. I hope I didn’t offend her. “I’m sure you don’t mind that I brought my granddaughter with me. You two know each other well, hmmm?”

Her teasing tone reassures me that no, I didn’t offend her. “Never seen this woman before in my life,” I say with the utmost sincerity.

Stella reaches out and socks me lightly on the arm. “Whatever.”

“You two still living together?” When we both nod, Grace turns her attention to Stella. “And your father still doesn’t know?”

“No one in the family knows,” Stella admits. “Besides you.”

It’s the thing that bothers me the most about this entire situation. Well, that and the fact that we keep our relationship—whatever you want to call it—under wraps too. No one in her family besides her grandmother knows we live together. No one in her friend group knows we’re having constant sex and are basically together, as if we’re in a relationship.

I’m Stella Ricci’s dirty secret, and I kind of hate it.

“I don’t know how you’re getting away with this,” Grace mutters, shaking her head. “You need to tell them.”

“Dad will flip out.”

“You’ve made your father flip out, as you say, more times than not since you were born,” Grace retorts. “And he’s