The Pickup (Imperfect Love 1)

I close the distance between us. This is the closest we’ve been since New Year’s Eve when we fell asleep together on the couch—the closest she’s allowed me to be. We’re standing only inches apart, and when I glance down, I can see her nipples are pebbling through her top. She wants me.

“What?” she asks shyly, watching me watch her.

“You have a bit of…” Without finishing my sentence, I lean down to make my move. It’s risky as fuck, but I’m all about the gamble. My hands come down onto the counter, bracketing her in my arms, and I notice she stills, frozen in place. My lips brush against the corner of her mouth, my tongue darting out to swipe the bit of batter. She sucks in a harsh breath, not reacting but not pushing me away either.

Taking it a bit further, my lips move down, and I tug on her bottom lip softly with my teeth, my tongue licking across her flesh. When she doesn’t move, I open my eyes and see she’s staring at me, watching me with wide eyes. I move my lips up and place a gentle kiss on hers. But when my tongue seeks entrance, the trance she’s in is broken.

“Stop, please.” Her voice is breathy—full of want, a complete contradiction to her words. “I’m not a cheater.”

I back up slightly, but my hands stay pressed against the edge of the counter, my arms caging her in. “Are you seeing someone?” Surely, I would’ve seen someone hanging around.

“No, but you’re engaged. You might be okay with cheating, but I’m not, and I imagine your fiancée wouldn’t be okay with it either. As you know, I’ve been cheated on and it sucks, and while it’s true, I don’t exactly like your fiancée, I’m not about to become the other woman.” Whoa…what?

“What are you talking about? Celeste and I broke up weeks ago.” Olivia’s hand comes up to my chest and pushes me back slightly. “Don’t you read the tabloids or go on social media?”

“I’ve been a little busy taking care of our baby. I don’t stalk your social media or look at tabloids. Maybe if I did, I would have found out who you were sooner.” She moves out of my hold and sticks another brownie pan into the oven. “Regardless…I can’t be your rebound.”

She sets the timer to forty-five minutes and makes her way out of the kitchen and down the hall to check on Reed. “Who said anything about being my rebound? In case you’ve forgotten, I was with you before I was with Celeste. Technically, she was the rebound.” I shrug, and Olivia laughs.

“Very funny.” She grabs the baby monitor and walks out onto her terrace, sitting down on the outdoor sofa set and flicking on the electric heater. I sit next to her, and she moves to the corner.

“Look,” I say, my palms going up in a placating manner. “I know what it is you want.”

“Oh really?” She bites her lip to hold back her smile. “Please, Nick, tell me what it is I want.” She bring her legs up to her chest, and her chin rests on her knees.

“You want me to defeat the evil queen and kiss you awake.”

“What?” She throws her head back in a fit of laughter, and fuck if I don’t want to kiss my way down her throat.

“You know? Like in the Disney movies. You’re looking for a Prince Charming, and I can be him.”

Olivia’s expression sobers. “Are you making fun of me?”

What? “What? No, I’m being serious. You don’t want money or materialistic shit. You don’t need me to buy you anything. You’re looking for your magical kiss, and I can be that guy.”

“What do you know about Disney movies?” She eyes me skeptically and an idea strikes. I pull my phone out and scroll through my play list, finding the perfect song. I hit play and turn the volume up.

“Dance with me.” I stand and put my hand out for Olivia to take.

Seventeen

Olivia

All-4-One’s “I can love you like that” plays over the speaker on Nick’s phone. I haven’t heard this song since I was a little girl. The words hit so close to home when it comes to what I have wished for that I have to wonder if it’s a coincidence or if he picked the song out on purpose after telling me he knows I’m looking for my Prince Charming.

I stare at his proffered hand, and for some reason it feels as though this moment is monumental. Like if I take his hand, I’m agreeing to so much more than just this dance. I’m agreeing to give him a chance at making my happily-ever-after fantasy come true.

He stands in front of me, his face devoid of all emotion as he waits for me to make my decision. He’s allowing me to be in control. There are so many reasons why I shouldn’t do this, why this can end in disaster. Each of them running through my head on repeat. But instead of listening, I push them aside, ignoring them all, and go with my heart. If it doesn’t work out, at least I can say I tried. And if it does—my mind goes to our one night together, to the way he’s been around Reed—there’s a chance it could be amazing.