How to Date the Guy You Hate by Julie Kriss Page 0,18

I an idiot to talk myself out of Jason’s dick?—but it was for the best. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s talk details. There’s something I didn’t tell you about this wedding.”

He looked at me warily as Tina set our breakfast plates down, and then he picked up his fork. “What is it?”

I took a breath. “It’s in Cape Cod.”

Jason speared some scrambled egg and frowned, calculating. “Seriously? That’s, what, two days’ drive?”

“Around sixteen hours, yes. Give or take.”

“So this is a five-day commitment.”

I nodded, poking at my own breakfast. “Luckily you’re unemployed.”

“Hey. I’m employed.”

I shrugged. “So you’ll have to take a few nights off from cleaning college kid barf.”

He reached for the hot sauce and dumped some on his eggs. Gross. “I don’t clean the barf, the janitors do. I kick guys’ asses and put drunk girls’ clothes back on.”

“And I’m sure you’re very skilled at it.”

He gave me half a grin. “I detect sarcasm. You have no respect for my profession.”

“None at all.”

“That’s no fair,” Jason said, spearing more eggs. He really was starving. “I have great respect for your ability to work the Drug-Rite cash. How will anyone buy their Preparation H without you for five days?”

“Ha ha,” I said. In fact, I had had a terrible time getting the time off, and was half worried there would be no job for me when I got back. I’d already called in sick today to go to the appointment with Dr. Pfeiffer. The thought made me tired. “And there’s another thing. My car is too shitty to make the trip, so we’re taking yours.”

“Huh,” Jason said thoughtfully, picking up a piece of crispy bacon and biting into it. My heart pounded in my chest. He’s going to say no, I thought wildly. He’s going to tell me to go fuck myself and walk out.

I had a problem asking people for favors. In fact, I’d never asked anyone for a favor this big. Not ever. I was used to handling everything alone, not asking for help. It was completely, utterly uncomfortable, as if I’d put on a pair of Spanx three sizes too small.

“Okay,” Jason said.

I tried not to make my voice squeak in relief. “You’re still in?”

“Hey, I owe you, right?” he said. “I figure with this wedding thing plus the orgasm I gave you, it’ll make up for how shitty I treated you.”

I dropped my gaze to my plate and ate some eggs. “The orgasm is not part of the deal,” I mumbled to the table.

“You’re right,” Jason said. “I changed my mind. That was a freebie.”

I looked back up at him. His plate was mostly empty, and he picked up his coffee, smiling at me.

“Do you own a suit?” I asked him. Control, Megan. Control.

“Yes,” he said. “I look boss in a suit.”

I was not going to picture it. I was not. “Bring a suit plus a second outfit of shirt and dress pants,” I said, “in case there are any pre-wedding things to go to.” I stared at his bruised cheek, assessing. “That should be healed by the time we get there. If it isn’t, I’ll put makeup on it. You could get a haircut if you have time, though your hair isn’t bad.” His hair was fucking gorgeous, dark and tousled and sexy. “You don’t have to do much, just stick close to me and be charming and pretend we’re dating. And that things are great.”

He scratched his nose, frowning. “Can I ask something? Why are you going to so much trouble for an ex-boyfriend? I mean, why is he such a big deal?”

I detected a distinct note of male envy in that, and I savored it like chocolate on my tongue. Then I said, “It isn’t just the ex-boyfriend that’s important.” I explained to him about Stephanie and Kyle, and how things had happened, and how Stephanie was from my mother’s side of the family. I left out the part about Kyle being my first, because I was not giving Jason Carsleigh that particular tidbit.

“Okay,” he said when I finished. “I get it. So it’s more about your mother’s family than this guy.”

“Mostly, but the guy is part of it,” I admitted. “It’s sort of this shitty mix. I can’t just not go. I mean, would you want to look like a loser at Charlotte’s wedding?”

Jason groaned. “Man, there is no way I’d go to Charlotte’s wedding,” he said. “Just no way.”

I spent far, far too much mental energy in the next minute trying to