Read Online The Sweetest Things by Nikki Winter - Free Book Online Page B

bereft and slightly horny every time you saw me.”
    There was silence. As he pulled up to a stoplight, he turned his head just to find Harper staring at him, her brows drawn downwards.
    “What?”
    “I just...I’m trying to figure out if all the hair hides the dent that was made in your head when you were dropped as a baby, or if they managed to repair the damage with a steel plate.” And yes, he could tell she was extremely serious when she replied with that.
    With a gasp, Konstantine ran his hands through the back of his locks, tugging. “Pop always told me my head was just extremely hard!”
    “Koz!” She reached over to pinch him.
    “Ow!”
    “Tell me where we’re going.”
    “Yes, because physically assaulting me is definitelygonna make me wanna talk to you about my wonderful date plans.”
    “Why can’t you just cooperate?”
    “You mean why can’t I just roll over on command?”
    “That’s exactlywhat I mean!”
    He stopped at another light. “Because I’m not a goddamned dog, Sweets! You think I don’t know you well enough by now not to fuck up something that I had to corner you into doing in the first place?”
    She tucked her lips in, folding her arms across her chest as she sat back in her seat.
    “Ahh, so we’re doing silent treatment now, eh?” Konstantine asked.
    No response.
    “We’re just gonna sit here in awkward silence like two strangers?”
    Nothing.
    “I ever tell you about the time I almost got my junk caught in the zipper of my jeans?”
    She snorted.
    “Or about the time the cleaning service caught me shaking said junk in my mirror upon my discovery of good techno at the tender age of fifteen?”
    There was a small “Heh” from her side of the car.
    “Or about the time I thought I broke my junk because I wouldn’t stop mas—”
    “Oh, my God!” Harper gasped. “Stop. Talking!” Her head was pressed to the passenger side window as she laughed.
    He chuckled. “But, Sweets, I have so many more stories about my junk.”
    “I don’t wanna hear any stories about your cock.”
    Konstantine growled. “I’d advise that you don’t use that word anymore tonight.”
    “And that would be why?”
    “Because it makes my palms itch.”
    “Is this gonna lead to another conversation about your bits? I don’t wanna have another conversation about your bits.”
    As he finally stopped at their destination—Margo’s—he fully turned in his seat to look at her as she “ooohed” and “ahhed.” He retorted, “Sweets, my palms are itching because I’m tempted to spank you.”
    She blinked. “I always heard silence was golden.”

Nine
     
     
    The bastard was good, she’d give him that. Margo’swasn’t someplace full of pretentious assholes and bitchy supermodels ordering side salads as main courses. It was designed to have an upscale but homey feel to it when you walked through the door, never once making you second-guess what you’d chosen to wear. The menu, if Harper remembered correctly, ranged from surf and turf to simple hotdogs and French fries. On weeknights, a live band played on the center stage, filling the food-scented air with amazing tunes.
    If there was anyplace Harper wanted to spend a date, it was indeed in the restaurant of the one woman who made the best burgers in Manhattan and gave hugs almost as good as her own mother’s. At the thought of Margo Davis, Harper found herself glancing through the throngs of tables, trying to find the culinary artist with the sparkling smile.
    “She’s in that last booth on the right with Pops,” Konstantine whispered in her ear, his hand resting on the dip in her back as they moved behind their waiter.
    Turning her head in that direction, she spotted Ivan with his arms wrapped around Margo, a smile on his face as the older woman chuckled at whatever he’d just said. “They look so frackin’ cute.”
    “Meh.” Konstantine shrugged as they sat down.
    “What do you mean ‘meh’?” she demanded, gesturing in