A Very Merry Mess (Cider Cove Sweet Southern RomComs #3)

Sneak Peek! A Very Disastrous Dare Chapter 2 - Aaron

I’m not sure how long we stand there kissing, but it’s nowhere near long enough. When Emma finally pulls away, I have to force myself not to chase after her lips. My head spins as I go over every touch, every sensation, ever pounding beat of my heart. The softness of her hair and skin—both of which I’ve obviously touched. At least my fingers have a memory of it, and I look down at my hands dumbly.

I’ve imagined kissing her so many times over the past few months, but the reality blows every fantasy out of the water.

I take a big breath, barely able to form coherent thoughts, and look up at her. More stupidity chases through me at her lack of costume, because it only reminds me that I’m dressed like Legolas from Lord of the Rings . That invite one-hundred-percent said to come dressed as my favorite book character. I will go to my grave believing that.

Emma’s cheeks hold a gorgeous flush I haven’t seen before, and dare I think she looks just as dazed as I feel? For a moment, I forget why we’re even here, standing just outside the back door of her floral shop, until I notice movement behind her.

Right. Tucker. Emma’s ex.

I clear my throat and make an attempt to regain my composure. “So, dinner?” I ask, hoping my voice doesn’t betray how affected I am.

Emma nods quickly. “Yes, dinner. Let me just get cleaned up.” She turns to give Tucker a dirty look. “And we’ll go.” She presses her purse into my chest. “Do you want to drive tonight? You can pick me up out front. I obviously need to make sure that door gets closed properly.”

“Sure,” I say, doing my best to sound like I’m not asking her a question. Or to act like I’ve driven Emma’s car many times. I haven’t. Or that I’m fine to leave her alone with her ex. I’m not. I give him a dry look. “You come on out this way with me.”

“My car is?—”

“Get out, Tucker,” Emma says as she steps past him. “I’ll see you out front, baby.”

I love that pet name for me in her voice, even if it is fake. Tucker doesn’t know that, and by the time I tear my gaze from Emma’s retreating curves to look at him, he’s cocked his eyebrows. He does exit the shop through the back door, which I then pull tightly closed and double-check to make sure it locked. It did.

“How long have you two been dating?” he asks.

“A few months,” I say causally. My mouth sometimes runs away from me, getting me in trouble, and I vow to stitch my lips together before I tell this Tucker character another thing.

Thankfully, I know which SUV is Emma’s, and I dig into her purse to find her keys like I’ve done so a million times before. The truth is, I don’t think I’ve ever rifled through a woman’s purse, and it almost feels wrong to be doing it. And with Tucker watching? And my cape billowing in the afternoon spring breeze?

A sweat breaks out across my forehead, and I feel like he might arrest me for A) lying about being Emma Newberry’s boyfriend, and B) kissing her like I’m Emma Newberry’s boyfriend.

Oh, how I want to be Emma Newberry’s boyfriend.

But I clear my head and focus. It can’t be that hard to find car keys in a bag. And yet, I’ve severely underestimated every woman who’s ever walked the earth with a purse, because I cannot for the life of me find her keys. Frustrated, I look up to find Tucker standing there staring, his eyebrows raised.

“They’re in here somewhere,” I say, now kneading the bottom of the bag just to see if it’ll produce a jangling sound. To my great relief, it does, and I dive back into her purse to pull out the keys. I hold them up like they’re a Gold Medal I’ve just won in the Invasion of Privacy event in the Olympics.

“I gotta say,” Tucker says. “You don’t seem like Emma’s type.”

“I’ll be sure and let her know,” I throw back at him. “See you around.” I’m not going to tell him it’s great to meet him when it’s not great to meet him. And Emma obviously doesn’t like him, so I’m not sorry to walk away, get behind the wheel of her SUV—which several adjustments, because wow. Who needs to sit so close to the steering wheel?—and leave her back lot in favor of the street.

She’s waiting on the sidewalk, her thumbnail against her teeth, and relief washes over her features as I come to a stop and she opens the door. She blows into the car with all the scents of fresh flowers and her fruity perfume, and I’m all smiles again.

I’ve really got to tone that down, so I’m not so obvious in how I feel about her. Well, I think that kiss gave you away, I think, but I say nothing.

Once we’re rolling away from the flower shop, Emma lets out a long breath. “Thank you,” she says softly. “I’m sorry I sprung that on you.”

I want to tell her she can spring kisses on me anytime, but I know this isn’t the moment. “Don’t worry about it,” I say instead. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

She gives me a grateful smile, and I simply keep driving toward the town square. It’s so not the answer I wanted to give, nor is her silence what I want her to say in response. Somehow, an elephant got in the car with us, and he’s making it very hard to breathe or speak.

Finally, when I’m faced with almost-end-of-day-traffic and nowhere to go, I ask, “Where do you want to go to dinner?”

“Bellyache’s?” she suggests. “I’m craving a lot of bacon and cheese right now.” She won’t look at me and instead keeps her focus out the passenger window.

Bellyache’s is an old diner that serves American fare, and I can eat a burger for any meal, any day of the week. So no problem for me there, and I make the turn that’ll take us a little bit away from downtown—and right past my house.

“So,” I say, gesturing to my ridiculous elf costume. “I guess I should explain this.”

Emma laughs, the tension from earlier melting away. “Please do. I’m dying to know why you’re dressed like you just stepped out of Middle Earth.”

“The invite said to do so.” I quirk my eyebrows at her, since she clearly knew which book character I’d dressed as. “The real question is why you didn’t do it. Or what you would dress as if you had gotten the memo.”

“I gotta be honest, Aaron,” she says, too much glee in her tone. “You took the memo to a new dimension.”

“I’ve read all of Tolkien’s books,” I say. “Four or five times. Love the movies. Play the video games. It’s something I can do with my brother, and well, I don’t have a lot in common with him.”

And just like that, I’ve killed the fun, flirty, I’ll-kiss-you-again-later vibe between us. I’ve done so at least fifty times in the past several months, because just when I think I’m getting close to blurting out my feelings for the gorgeous blonde in the passenger seat, I chicken out.

Or she says something that puts me in my place, that lets me know we’re just friends.

I scoff right out loud. Just friends. Two of the worst words on the whole planet, in my opinion.

“You okay?” she asks.

“I’d love to hear all the stories of your exes,” I say instead. Maybe wearing this elfin garb, I can say things the normal Aaron Stansfield wouldn’t say. I can be someone else. Someone brave and ferocious and very, very good at what he does.

I drive by the huge corner lot that’s been sitting dormant for the better part of three years now. Cider Cove’s been in a legal battle with the construction firm, and the huge hole they built before a judge executed a stay order has been a stain on the town since. But Bellyache’s is just around the bend, and I swing the SUV that way while doing the same with my attention as it moves over to Emma.

“And you know what?”

“What?” she asks, her eyes finally coming to meet mine.

I want to talk about that kiss , I think inside my head. I can even hear myself saying it in a movie-type setting. And Emma will confess her undying love for me, and I’ll somehow rope a horse the way Legolas would, and we’ll ride off into the Middle Earth sunset.

But in real life Cider Cove, I say, “Maybe I could stop by my house and change before we go to the meeting. It’s just around the corner from Bellyache’s.”

And just like that, I’m back to being the cowardly Aaron Stansfield, the upstanding oldest son who runs his daddy’s and granddaddy’s hardware store, and who can’t keep a girlfriend for longer than three months.

All women say they want a guy like me. A man with a good job. Nice house. A nice guy.

All women are lying.

I manage not to make a fool of myself during our burger binge, and I leave Emma standing in the fully remodeled living room at my house while I hurry into my not-fully-remodeled bedroom to change out of the elf costume. I pull on jeans and a tee, grab my sneakers, and hurry back out to her.

“We’re not going to be late,” I promise her, though we probably are. I swear, every restaurant, cafe, and bistro in town has some Thursday night special, as if people will only come out to get food if it’s on sale, and traffic around the library is pretty insane this time of night.

They have a big parking garage that’s used for a lot of the downtown business district, and I fear having our small business meeting so early will make it hard to find a place to park. So I pull my shoes on as fast as possible and jump back to my feet. “Ready.”

Emma giggles and shakes her head. “No, you’ve got an extra ear still, Mister Stansfield.”

I love it when she calls me by my last name in that flirty tone. I find it hard to believe she likes me as only a friend, though she’s never, ever, ever given me an indication that I’m wrong about that.

Now, she steps over to me and lifts her hand to my right ear. “This one looks a little otherworldly still.” Her fingers gently brush up my neck, along the bottom of my beard, to my ear, and my word, I feel like a star that has exploded. I’m in a hundred million tiny pieces, everything shooting out at the speed of light and sound.

Our eyes meet, and Emma’s smile slowly drifts off her face. Her touch is light, careful almost, and oh-so-sexy as she sweeps her fingers around to the back of my ear and releases the costume piece. “There,” she whispers. “I got it.”

Her hand drops, and I immediately cover the ear in her palm with mine. Maybe if I want to get the girl, I have to act more like Tucker. At least in the beginning, I tell myself, because I’m not sure I can be a jerk long-term. My momma will cuff me upside the head and demand, “What are you thinking, Aaron?”

Right now, I’m really thinking I’d like to kiss Emma again, but I know Mister Nice Guy isn’t going to get the job done. So I step back and toss the ear to the end table beside my couch. “Now I’m ready.” Then I lead the way out of the house, not even bothering to hold the creaky front screen door for Emma.

In fact, it slams in her face, and I hear her grunt behind me as I go down the front steps. The man I really am wants to run back and make sure she avoids the rotting parts of the porch, since I replaced it and it immediately rained before I could preserve and protect the wood. The whole thing needs to be redone, but I’d already moved on to the interior of the house.

My best friend, whose house I’ve been living in, is back in town and has been for the past few weeks. He’s marrying the love of his life—and one of Emma’s best friends—next week, and I’ll move out while they’re on their honeymoon. It’s another ten days, and I can do a lot in ten days’ time.

Not when pining after Emma , I tell myself sternly, because I’m not going to do that anymore.

I drive her car and her over to the library, where sure enough, it seems the whole population of Cider Cove has converged. We’re only ten minutes late to the small business meeting, and they haven’t started yet, thankfully.

I act like I don’t care as I take a seat in the back row. Emma pauses at the end of it and looks up front, then back to me. I pretend to be engrossed in something super amazing on my phone, and I even smile like a really beautiful woman has texted me back that she can’t wait to see me for dinner later.

Emma walks away, and a tiny piece of my heart turns black and falls to the soles of my feet. Is this how the bad boys feel all the time? Because I feel like I’m going to throw up, and I think I’d have rather walked into this meeting wearing my elfin gear than sit on the back row alone while Emma finds a seat closer to the front next to a woman who owns a dog treat bakery.

The meeting starts, and I pay attention the way I normally do. I take the information packets for the upcoming Summer Faire, as it’s something my family always participates in. We do simple household task demos, like fixing doorknobs and painting a sunroom, and sealing a deck.

Then, the woman who’s been running our meetings this year, Margaret Pajonas, who owns a daycare and preschool on the opposite side of town from where Emma and I work, holds up a yellow folder. “And we just got something exciting from the City Council.” Her eyes hold hope and excitement, and I sit up a little.

This meeting has gotten a little stale, but maybe just for people like me who’ve participated in the Summer Faire before. But this is something new.

“The City Council and the city of Cider Cove have finally resolved the issue on the corner of Sweetbriar and Salty Dog.”

A murmur moves through the crowd, because this is big news. The hole I’d driven by earlier? That’s the lot on the corner of Sweetbriar and Salty Dog, and it could be such a beautiful place for apartments, a hotel, or even just a park. Everything just got abandoned, and it’s become a wasteland.

“And they’re hosting a city-wide event specifically for small businesses to get involved in the community. We don’t have a bunch of information yet, but the bottom line is, every small business has a chance to help beautify that twenty-four acre lot, and…” She holds out the word and surveys the whole room.

I’m holding my breath, because this feels important, and a few people a couple of rows ahead of me actually lean forward.

Margaret really has us all on the edge of our seats. She grins and flips open the folder. “And I quote, ‘More information and rules and regulations will be coming within the next two weeks, emailed to all small business owners on record within the city boundaries of Cider Cove.’”

She looks up, just to make sure we’re all still with her. And I am. I’m so with her, and I glance up to where Emma’s sitting. She’s practically on the edge of her seat.

Margaret returns to her folder. “And we’ll be revealing an event where small businesses can show off what they provide to the community by participating in a contest that will have winners chosen based on voting from the general population of Cider Cove, government officials, and City Council members, with a proposed grant provided to the winning small business in the amount of twenty-five thousand dollars.”

I suck in a breath, and it’s like that action has vacuumed out all the oxygen in the room, because I’m not the only one who’s just gasped like they’ve just met the most popular member of their favorite boy band. Everyone has. People are murmuring the same thing running through my mind.

“Twenty-five thousand dollars?”

“Twenty-five thousand dollars!”

Emma turns around, and I stand up and look at her, completely forgetting that I’m going to play the bad boy and ignore her, act like I don’t like her at all, and that that kiss didn’t rock my world.

“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” we say together, and I can’t wait to get the email about this community service project that could change my life.

She hurries toward me, the meeting obviously over, and I turn and leave the room ahead of her. “Can you believe that?” she asks. “That’s so much money.”

“Yeah,” I say in a short, clipped word, my stride long so Emma has to jog to catch up to me.

“Can you slow down?” she grumps at me, and that only makes me want to go faster. Or slow down? I honestly don’t know.

I slow down slightly, and I glance over to her.

“Why are you mad at me?” she asks.

“I’m not,” I lie. Fine, it’s only half a lie, because I am sort of mad at her, but I’m totally not at the same time.

“It’s because I kissed you, isn’t it?” She makes a sharp detour and pushes open the door to go into the stairwell instead of joining the throng of people queueing up at the elevator.

I follow her, annoyance singing through my veins. “You know what? Yeah, I’m mad about that. We agreed a few months ago that kissing was a very unfriendly thing to do.”

“But helping a friend is a very friendly thing to do,” she throws over her shoulder at me, then turns and practically flies down another flight of stairs.

We burst out into the parking garage on level two, where I’d managed to find a space, both of us huffing and puffing. I glance over to her, and oh, I am so losing this battle against her. In the end, I will lose. I know that in this moment.

But right now, I mentally dig my heels in and vow to myself to hold on for a little longer.

Her car is locked, and I have the keys, so when we get there, she stands outside the passenger door, waiting. I stand at the back bumper and glare at her. “You know what, Emma?” I have so many things I want to tell her, and none of them would come out of a nice guy’s mouth.

I have to get out of here. Just leave.

“I’ll find my own way home.”

Her breath catches, and for a split second, our eyes lock, the air between us crackling with something electric. Something dangerous. Something half-alive and real, but also abstract at the same time. I’m pretty sure it’s attraction, because that’s all I can feel for her right now. But she might just be experiencing an extreme case of fury.

Without another word, I toss her the keys—which causes her to yelp, throw her hands up, and miss the keys. They jingle-jangle as they bounce on the concrete.

But I’m already walking away.

A point goes to Mister-Not-Nice-Aaron, and I do my best to hold my head up high as my heart wails at me like I’ve just done the worst thing possible.

Oh, Aaron has a plan…and it really seems like it might backfire on him. LOL. Preorder A VERY DISASTROUS DARE today!