Read Online The Sweetest Fling (A Stupid Cupid Book) by Amber Scott - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Amber Scott
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the door.
Millie popped out of her dressing room door. “We’re going to Pita Jungle. You’ll love it.”
What would one little lunch hurt? What would lunch with Jace do to Oliver’s inferiority complex? Jace shifted his weight, his gaze deceptively disinterested. Did he want her there?
“I guess I could eat,” she said at last, and though it was subtle, she saw a change in Jace’s gaze. A little spark that made her question her decision.
Too late. Millie was dressed and ready. She hooked arms with Claire. Lunchtime.
* * *
Three hours later, the angry clatter of Claire’s keys hitting the granite breakfast bar felt good in her ears. Fitting. If only the plop of her purse next to them did as well. She kicked off her shoes, holding the wall to balance herself. Two too many glasses of wine. Thank goodness for cabs.
Lunch had become dessert. Dessert had stretched into coffee, and coffee into wine. Before long, only the three of them were left—Claire, Jace and Bels—(What kind of name was “Bels” anyway?). And though the sweet little thing gave Claire cool looks that turned downright icy, Claire couldn’t bring herself to get up and leave that damned restaurant.
Like a puppy. That’s what she’d felt like. Like a lost puppy wagging its little tail, hoping for a table scrap. Although she was getting far more than scraps. Jace had given Claire most of his attention and most of his smiles and laughs. Every look and every word kept Claire glued to her seat, while the claws of jealousy scratched deeper and deeper into her heart.
Jealousy! She had no business being jealous of Bels. So she was really cute and really petite. And smart. And maybe a little bit funny. So what?
A small hiccup escaped her as she padded to the kitchen for a glass of water. Oliver wasn’t home yet, thankfully. And he wasn’t likely to think her slight buzz very amusing. Halfway through lunch, he’d left some message about being ready for a big surprise tonight.
Coffee. That’s what she needed. She set down her drained water glass and rummaged for the container of coffee in the cupboard. Where did Oliver keep it? She hardly ever drank the stuff, unless it came straight from a coffee shop—and in the form of an iced whipped delight.
Like a latte. Jace’s hair was almost the color of latte. He’d seemed happy. Well. And so grown up since the last time they had seen each other. The lingering awkwardness of his youth had disappeared, and an easy confidence was in its place. He seemed comfortable in his own skin.
Mrs. Fletcher—Helen—had been a chatterbox. Millie and Ashley barely said a word. Was it her imagination, or did they not like Bels all that much? Wishful thinking.
Girlfriend . They were thinking about moving in together.
Claire straightened. The distinct rattle of keys in the lock made her drop the whole idea of coffee and dash to the adjoining bathroom for toothpaste.
She shut the door and turned on the water right as Oliver’s voice filtered into the door. She brushed quickly and forced her expression to reveal nothing, knowing that any second he’d barge in to say hello.
At least she didn’t look like she’d been drinking, or vying for attention from the one that got away. Had she made a total ass of herself, or just half an ass? She shut off the water and toweled her mouth when a foreign noise met her ears. A giggle.
A female giggle. In their home. And it was not hers.
Frowning slightly, Claire walked back out the way she came. There, in the living room, sitting and holding a glass of chardonnay, was a very blonde, very buxom, young woman. Claire smiled tightly when her fiancé and the woman saw her. They stopped laughing.
“Claire,” Oliver said, his tone was not nearly as bright as his face, but it was close. “I’d like you to meet Trina. Trina, this is my fiancée.”
Trina stood and extended a hand. “Hello. It’s so nice to meet you. You weren’t lying, Oliver. You really are stunning,
Millie popped out of her dressing room door. “We’re going to Pita Jungle. You’ll love it.”
What would one little lunch hurt? What would lunch with Jace do to Oliver’s inferiority complex? Jace shifted his weight, his gaze deceptively disinterested. Did he want her there?
“I guess I could eat,” she said at last, and though it was subtle, she saw a change in Jace’s gaze. A little spark that made her question her decision.
Too late. Millie was dressed and ready. She hooked arms with Claire. Lunchtime.
* * *
Three hours later, the angry clatter of Claire’s keys hitting the granite breakfast bar felt good in her ears. Fitting. If only the plop of her purse next to them did as well. She kicked off her shoes, holding the wall to balance herself. Two too many glasses of wine. Thank goodness for cabs.
Lunch had become dessert. Dessert had stretched into coffee, and coffee into wine. Before long, only the three of them were left—Claire, Jace and Bels—(What kind of name was “Bels” anyway?). And though the sweet little thing gave Claire cool looks that turned downright icy, Claire couldn’t bring herself to get up and leave that damned restaurant.
Like a puppy. That’s what she’d felt like. Like a lost puppy wagging its little tail, hoping for a table scrap. Although she was getting far more than scraps. Jace had given Claire most of his attention and most of his smiles and laughs. Every look and every word kept Claire glued to her seat, while the claws of jealousy scratched deeper and deeper into her heart.
Jealousy! She had no business being jealous of Bels. So she was really cute and really petite. And smart. And maybe a little bit funny. So what?
A small hiccup escaped her as she padded to the kitchen for a glass of water. Oliver wasn’t home yet, thankfully. And he wasn’t likely to think her slight buzz very amusing. Halfway through lunch, he’d left some message about being ready for a big surprise tonight.
Coffee. That’s what she needed. She set down her drained water glass and rummaged for the container of coffee in the cupboard. Where did Oliver keep it? She hardly ever drank the stuff, unless it came straight from a coffee shop—and in the form of an iced whipped delight.
Like a latte. Jace’s hair was almost the color of latte. He’d seemed happy. Well. And so grown up since the last time they had seen each other. The lingering awkwardness of his youth had disappeared, and an easy confidence was in its place. He seemed comfortable in his own skin.
Mrs. Fletcher—Helen—had been a chatterbox. Millie and Ashley barely said a word. Was it her imagination, or did they not like Bels all that much? Wishful thinking.
Girlfriend . They were thinking about moving in together.
Claire straightened. The distinct rattle of keys in the lock made her drop the whole idea of coffee and dash to the adjoining bathroom for toothpaste.
She shut the door and turned on the water right as Oliver’s voice filtered into the door. She brushed quickly and forced her expression to reveal nothing, knowing that any second he’d barge in to say hello.
At least she didn’t look like she’d been drinking, or vying for attention from the one that got away. Had she made a total ass of herself, or just half an ass? She shut off the water and toweled her mouth when a foreign noise met her ears. A giggle.
A female giggle. In their home. And it was not hers.
Frowning slightly, Claire walked back out the way she came. There, in the living room, sitting and holding a glass of chardonnay, was a very blonde, very buxom, young woman. Claire smiled tightly when her fiancé and the woman saw her. They stopped laughing.
“Claire,” Oliver said, his tone was not nearly as bright as his face, but it was close. “I’d like you to meet Trina. Trina, this is my fiancée.”
Trina stood and extended a hand. “Hello. It’s so nice to meet you. You weren’t lying, Oliver. You really are stunning,
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