Read Online The Dare by Rachel van Dyken - Free Book Online Page B

"Fine, but for your information,
I was going to leave her alone anyway."
    "Sure you were." Jake rolled his eyes.
"That's why you've been staring at her ass for the past ten
minutes."
    Naturally, my eyes went directly where they
weren't supposed to, and I was gifted with another hard slap to the
stomach.
    "Glad we understand each other." Travis
smacked my cheek.
    "Shit, you're like Grandma's mafia."
    "She'd be one hell of a mob boss." Jake
whistled, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Oh, and by the
way, have fun at dinner ."
    "Damn." Deflated, I watched as the group got
on the cart and wandered down to baggage claim, leaving Beth,
Grandma, and myself.
    "Well!" Grandma clasped her hands. "Isn't
this nice! Now, how about that dinner?"

Chapter Nine
     
    "How long do you plan to keep this up?" the
agent asked pointedly.
    Grandma grinned and leaned forward over the
metal table. "How long do you have, sugar?"
     
    Beth
     
    I was a blubbering idiot. The only
explanation I had was PMS or something like it. Char and Kacey
enveloped me in a few side hugs and told me men were asses. It
helped. Kind of.
    I could only assume they'd seen my fallen
face and were trying to offer their support in any way possible,
which to girls basically meant bashing on the guy in question until
the crying girl stopped crying and started joining in.
    But I didn't want to join in. Because,
regardless of how harsh Jace had been with my feelings — at least he'd been honest.
    Honest, I could do. It was the men who lied
about who they were that really bothered me. I'd dealt with honest
most of my adult life. I could work with it; logically I could
explain it.
    Maybe it was my hair.
    I'd always been told the brown was too
dull.
    Or possibly my eyes? But, in my opinion, they
were really the only thing I had going for me. Dark lashes fanned
the emerald green of my eyes, giving them an almost exotic
look.
    But that was it. No, seriously. It was all I
had. My body was normal, not too big, not too small. And I
officially sounded like Goldilocks from The Three Bears.
    "Was he mean to you?" Char squeezed my hand.
She'd always been the type to fight first, ask questions later.
    I loved her for it.
    "Nah," I lied. "He was a perfect gentleman.
Not too bad for a senator."
    "Senator my ass," Char hissed. "He's slimy,
that one."
    "I thought you liked him?" I argued.
    "Liked." Char sniffled. "Past tense. I liked
him before he stole you away from the wedding reception. I liked
him before I found out you were plastered against his naked chest
for hours on end. And I liked him before he started staring at your
ass as if it held secrets to national security."
    "He was staring at my ass?" I asked in a
much-too-hopeful voice. Bad Beth. Very bad.
    "Not the time, Beth." Char's eyes narrowed.
"Remember what happened with Brett? And Steve? And John?"
    "Stop naming men from my past before I kill
myself," I muttered.
    Kacey didn't say anything. She watched our
exchange with interest, her mouth turned upward in a smile as she
looked between Jace and me.
    "He is cute," she finally said.
    Um, actually he was a god. No really, ask
Marvel Comics.
    "Kace…" Char warned. "Cute is for puppies.
Not politicians."
    "Let's go!" Grandma shouted above the boys
fighting and the girls laughing next to me.
    "Go get 'em, tiger." Char pinched my butt.
"Make him work for it."
    "Work for it?" I asked innocently. I had a
sneaking suspicion she didn't mean actual work, as in giving him
math formulas and solving for Z. But something way harder, like
actually trying to be sexy.
    Char's answer was to nudge Kacey and laugh.
Was I missing something? Shrugging, I summed it up to being overly
exhausted and tugged my purse over my arm. Dinner. One dinner. And
then I was going to find some Hawaiian man in a loin cloth to rub
coconut oil all over me and say big words like electromagnetic and
ionic… bummer. I was my own ionic bond. No matter how many times
I'd wished I could stick to something, it hadn't