Ashley. Right. Good thing the friend mentioned her name, because he’d forgotten it and almost called her Brenda again. He shook the woman’s hand. “Colton.”
Ashley gave him a fierce look, trying to convey...something. Who the hell knew what this woman wanted? She turned to her friend and said, “Colt and I had a bit of a fight earlier, so...” She shrugged. Like that summed up their whole relationship. Which, as far as he was concerned, it did.
“She was snippy,” he offered, helpfully.
She glowered. “You were an ass.”
Rubbing his jaw, he said, “Can’t say I recall that part.”
“We might break up.” Her face was red. Not a sweet blushing red, but a fiery red, complete with nostrils flared and steam spewing out of the ears. Angry-bull red.
He chucked her beneath the chin. “She’s so funny. It’s why I love her.”
Her eyes went saucer-sized.
Damn. Too far?
“I mean, I don’t love her, love her.”
Yes. There was the steam pouring out of her orifices again. This was fun.
He flashed a well-meaning Cross family smile at Ashley’s friend, who watched their interaction with a little pucker between her brows. Leaning toward her, he said, “I love making her mad, is what I mean. She’s feisty when she’s mad. And when she’s feisty...?” He whistled high, then low, hoping the friend would catch his meaning. Shit, this was the easiest free grub ever. “So, babe,” he said to Ashley, “about those nachos. I’m thinking a double order for me and the boys at the end of the bar. Sound like a plan?”
“Sure.”
“I’m also thinking a couple more makeup kisses are in order, too.”
Kaboom.
She was like a cartoon character, blowing her top.
Hands up in mock self-defense, he said, “I’ll collect later.” He grinned and then wove his way back down to the end of the bar, looking forward to telling the boys how he’d finagled free food for the lot of them.
* * *
“HUH,” JASMINE SAID, a wrinkle between her brows as she watched Colton walk away.
Ash rubbed the spot between her own brows in response because she could feel way more than a wrinkle there. A chasm.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph. What the hell had she done?
“Well,” Jazzy’s frown slipped away to make room for a huge smile. “He is one hot tamale.” She leaned close and whispered, “How’s the sex?”
Ash choked on her spit. Her sister, very helpful sister that she was, smacked her hard between the shoulder blades. A couple good hard whacks. Then, when Ash finished choking, she leaned down and hissed in her ear, “I told you to flirt, not make out with the customers.”
Ash gave Beth a meaningful look. At least her sister got her looks. Unlike the dolt she’d chosen to be her pretend boyfriend.
Coughing once more, Ashley said to Jasmine, “Sex is super hot.” So hot, in fact, her whole body swarmed with fire ants at the thought.
“Huh,” Jasmine said. Did the fact that this was the second time she had said huh mean that her friend was dumbstruck by her choice of boyfriend? If so, maybe this wasn’t such a mistake after all.
“You guys have an interesting...” Jazz twisted her ponytail around her finger as she considered how to finish her sentence. Instead of finishing, she opted to change the subject. “How long have you been together?”
“Oh,” Ashley said, swiping her hand across her lips, intent on removing any lingering bit of Colton Cross from her mouth. “Not long.” Only the understatement of the century. “I doubt it’ll last.”
Beth snorted.
“Why do you say that?” Jazz asked.
Ashley turned to pour some drinks. Over her shoulder she said, “We’re too different.”
“How so?”
She shrugged. “We want different things. We have different philosophies on life. You know, the kind of thing that makes a long-term relationship impossible.”
For the first time that evening, Jasmine’s bubble of happiness wavered. She blinked at Ashley, a serious expression stealing over her features as Ash slid filled glasses to Jazz. “So then...” Her friend passed the pints of draft to the patrons waiting. “Why?”
Sticking her head between them, Beth answered for Ash. “Because the sex is so damn hot, she can’t keep her hands off of him.”
And for the millionth time, Ashley wished she was an only child.
Thankfully a rush of customers made it difficult to talk about the subject of her fake boyfriend anymore, and when the nachos were ready, fifteen minutes later, Ashley took them herself to the end of the bar where Colton was surrounded by his buddies.
“Here you go,” she said, sliding the platter close before turning to go.
“Hold on a sec.” He grabbed her wrist, holding her in place.
Ash’s automatic response was to tug, but Colton was stupidly strong. “What?”
The sinful grin, that all the women in Half Moon were talking about, flashed across his face. “I’m of a mind to collect.”
“Collect what?”
“A couple more kisses.”
After a glance over her shoulder to see if Jasmine was watching—which she was—and then a glance over his to see if his friends were watching—which they were—Ash went up on tiptoes, placed her free hand on Colton’s broad shoulder and whispered in his ear, “No.”
This did not deter him. He released her hand only so he could slip his arm around her waist and pull her in tight against him. “If you were my real girlfriend, we’d be kissing right now,” he said in a low voice, just for her. Then he waited to see what her response was to that.
She wedged a hand up between them, placing her palm flat against his chest—was it normal to have such hard muscles hiding behind a button-up shirt? No. She didn’t think so—and pushed. There was no give whatsoever. “But I’m not your girlfriend. We’re just pretending. Remember?”
“Oh, I remember. But you want to put on a show.” With a tilt of his chin, he indicated Jasmine. “So let’s put on a show.”
“How’d you know?”
Using his knuckles beneath her chin, he tilted her head up. “There’s only one reason a woman wants a fake boyfriend.” He ducked down so that he was a mere inch away from her mouth. His warm breath made the wisps of hair that inevitably escaped the ponytail holder tickle her cheeks.
“What’s that?” There was way too much breathiness in her whisper for her liking.
“To make her friends jealous.” He waited a half second, his eyes glued to hers. When she didn’t move, didn’t shove, didn’t object in any way, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.
This was not the kiss she’d expected. She’d expected something for show, him bending her over the bar, making slurping noises as he pretended to make out with a passion he didn’t feel.
That was not what this was. This was slow. Leisurely. Like he enjoyed getting to know her mouth. Like he wanted to explore her lips, the inside and outside of them. Not to mention deep inside her mouth. His big hand cupped the back of her head, and he tilted her—gently—one way and then the other, as he slanted his mouth over hers. When he finally pulled away, she was left, lips parted, panting.
“That