The Player Hater (Accidentally in Love 1)

Davis: I feel like at this point, Penelope feels like it’s impossible to contact the guy after this long. She feels like she waited too long. She’s never SAID that but that’s the general feeling I get.

Davis: It’s not something I like to bring up—she’s hypersensitive about it.

Juliet: I’m sure she feels like she has a lot to lose by talking about it.

Davis: Yeah—she feels like she’ll lose Skipper

Juliet: I can see how that would instill fear into her.

Davis: And I know what you’re thinking: if she doesn’t tell the guy and he finds out somehow, she’s going to lose Skipper anyway.

Juliet: Is that what I was thinking?

Davis: It’s what I’M thinking. LOL

Juliet: But you’re too scared to tell that to her face because you don’t want to push her away?

Davis: Wow. You’re good at this.

Juliet: Reading people is part of my job.

Davis: You read kids for a living.

Juliet: Yes, but kids turn into adults…

Davis: No truer words.

CHAPTER 12

Davis

“…want to thank you all for coming. Dinner will be served shortly, please just enjoy a drink on the house.”

Mia’s father is loudly boasting at the front of the room, clearly enjoying the laughs he’s garnering from the crowd of friends and family gathered to celebrate—or find out about—the newly engaged couple.

If anyone is wondering what the occasion is, the cake, customized Mia and Thad drinks, and CONGRATULATIONS banner should have given it away the second they walked in.

Still, there’s going to be an announcement. And speeches. And plenty of food.

I steal an olive from a tray as it passes, skipping the drink it’s planted in, nibbling on the toothpick afterwards. I already have a drink in my hand—a Manhattan that has had the shit muddled out of it—sipping it as I make my way through the crowded room.

“For such short notice, this place is packed,” I say to Juliet as I approach her, taking in her hair, dress and smooth legs for the millionth time tonight.

She turns to face me, chin tilted up.

So pretty.

She looks beautiful tonight and I can’t help think how strange it is seeing her all decked out and dolled up. More so than she was this past week after a day of work and definitely more than at the lake when she basically wore the same exact thing for three days straight.

“I can’t get over the fact that they know this many people.”

There must be over a hundred people here, only a handful that I recognize or worked with.

“Um, Mia’s mother is Italian, of course there are a billion people here. She has almost eighty first cousins.”

Ah, that makes sense.

I take a swallow of my drink, stirring it up, trying to get a hunk of cherry.

I’m starving, man.

We wander the crowd, nodding at people Juliet seems to be acquainted with, saying hello to people I know. She hugs a few people that bear a striking resemblance to her best friend—cousins? siblings?—as I guide her toward the appetizer spread that’s inconveniently located on the opposite side of the room.

So close, but so far away…

I can see the stuffed mushroom and bacon wrapped asparagus from here.

Wait.

No.

Don’t eat the asparagus, dude, your pee will stink later.

So what? It’s not like her face is going to be in the toilet while you’re taking a piss.

Okay, but what if her mouth is on your dick later?

That’s putting the cart before the horse if I’ve ever seen it.

Eat it.

Don’t eat it—there’s plenty of other shit to binge on.

But you love bacon. And you love asparagus…

Why are you talking to yourself?

My arm is reaching for the table before I’m even a foot away, eyes scanning the rest of the buffet even as my hands are taking hold of a mini quiche. I grab a plate—put it down and grab a bigger one—trying to be calm and collected, so I don’t look rude even as my stomach rolls. I’ve been preparing for this feast all day, watched what I ate so I could eat whatever splurges they were serving tonight.

Mia’s family did not disappoint.

Finger foods galore including bruschetta, anti-pasta with salami and prosciutto, loads of vegetables, mozzarella on toothpicks with tomato and oil (my favorite), and a few things I don’t know the names of, but that are going inside my mouth.

“You sure you don’t want to save room for the actual meal?” Juliet is watching me with raised brows, eyeballing my full plate.

“Trust me, there’s plenty of room for an entire meal.”

Steak, lasagna—whatever they throw at me I’m going to eat.

Juliet shrugs and loads up her plate too. “This is fun, isn’t it?”

It is.

She’s so cute.

“Did I tell you how nice you look tonight?”

She glances up, blushing. “You did, but thank you.”

It looks as if she’s had her hair done for the occasion by a professional, maybe even added some extensions; it looks longer than it normally does, hanging straight down her back in a shiny long sheet. Juliet looks as romantic as her name implies, the soft layers of her petal pink dress flowing wistfully about her with every motion she makes.