The Bride Test (The Kiss Quotient 2)

“I wouldn’t have listened. I wasn’t ready.” He probably never would have been ready if it weren’t for Esme. “I am now.”

Quan looked at him for a good long moment before he said, “Be careful, okay? You guys are both grown-ups, and you can make your own decisions and shit, but just . . . be careful. With yourself and with her. I really do like her for you, and—”

“Quan,” someone called from the other side of the condo. “I’m getting cold.”

Quan clapped his hands and rubbed them together like everything was settled. “I think we’re done here. Feel free to call me if you have questions. But not until ten at the earliest. Good luck. Oh, and maybe you wanna buy a box of condoms on the way home. I’d give you some of mine, but I only have two left.”

Khai headed for the door. “Got it.” That seemed really optimistic, considering where things were with him and Esme right now, but it was best to be prepared.

As he headed out, he heard Quan say, “Don’t forget to apologize. First with words. Then with your tongue.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Esme tried her best to focus on studying, but thoughts of Kh?i kept intruding on her United States history. Why had he looked so confused? Did he treat all his women that way? Was she supposed to be grateful he’d slept with her and beg for more?

She sneered. Not in this life. Not even in her next life when she was a catfish.

After reading the same page three times, she shut her textbook. She wasn’t trying to impress him anymore. She wasn’t sure why she continued studying. It wasn’t like any of this information would help her clean bathrooms any better.

A wave of homesickness hit her. She checked the time, but it was too early to call home. When she couldn’t talk to her family, the next best thing was fruit. Fruit and home were connected in her mind. Everything Cô Nga had bought was long gone, so she raided the pantry. Fresh was best, but canned was better than none. She opened a big can of lychees, poured them into a bowl with ice, and brought them to the living room, where she queued up The Hunchback of Notre Dame on Netflix.

She was sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of the TV, shoving lychees into her mouth with a soup spoon, when Kh?i walked through the front door. He glanced her way for a quick second before he focused on removing his shoes with a furrowed brow. He was wearing his reading glasses and looked especially accountant/assassin-like in his black T-shirt and pants. Beautiful mind, beautiful body.

This man had kissed her like he was drowning last night.

And then he’d discarded her as soon as he’d finished with her.

A lychee lodged in her throat, and she forced it down with an uncomfortable swallow. She picked up her half-finished bowl of lychees and prepared to run.

“No, don’t go.” Kh?i took a step toward her, and plastic bags swayed at his side. “Please. I wanted to talk to you.”

She considered running anyway, but the pleading in his eyes kept her still. She prodded at a floating lychee with her spoon as she waited for him to say whatever it was he needed to. She had no idea what to expect. He’d never been predictable.

Instead of speaking right away, he crossed the room and sat on his heels in front of her. The plastic bags rustled as he set them down. “I got these for you.”

The distinct red spiny shells of rambutan fruits were visible from the top of one of the bags, and she gasped

and snatched them close. “For me? Where did you get them?” They didn’t have these at the regular grocery store that was within walking distance of his house.

He smiled slightly. “I had to drive around a little, but I found them in San Jose.”

“All day?” she asked.

“No, not all day.” He ducked his head and laughed a little. Was it her, or did his cheeks redden? “I did some reading.” He removed his glasses and stuck them on the coffee table.

“Thank you,” she said, more touched than she cared to admit, but then she noticed the box inside the second plastic bag. She knew what kind of box that was.

Her eyes went round. If he thought she was having sex with him again after last night, he had a few things to learn. These fruits were coming with her to her room, and she hoped he got ants all over his house. She’d secretly feed them and lure them to his bedroom, so they bit him in his sleep.

Just as she lifted the bowl and bag and unfolded her legs so she could get up, he looked at her directly and said, “I’m sorry.”

The words were so unexpected she didn’t know what to do. She stared at him without blinking.

“I screwed up last night. I didn’t realize—I didn’t know—” He made a frustrated sound and looked down at his knees. “I swear I practiced this, but it’s not coming out right.” His eyes met hers again, determined now. “Last night was my first time.”

She shook her head, not understanding.

“My first time. Ever. With a woman. With anyone.”