Faking It with Mr Nightshadow (Alphalicious Billionaires 2)
It went to complete shit when she clicked the message and found that it was from him.
The half erotic dream she’d had the night before about those eyes didn’t help matters. Her body responded to his picture, which pierced right through her. If she’d been wearing panties under her long nightgown with the sleepy looking cat on the front, they would have been soaked. No need to worry about flames or combustion there. The flood would have definitely put it out.
Face on fire, Ash forced herself to calm down and read the message.
“Oh. My. God.” She realized that she was talking out loud. She cast a pointed glance at her cat, who, at fifteen, was sleeping soundly. She was always sleeping. She was fifteen and that was ancient for a cat. She pretended that it was perfectly normal to have a conversation with her sleeping cat. “He messaged me back.” She slammed a finger into the laptop’s screen. “He messaged me back AND he gave me his phone number!”
Slappy- yes that was her cat’s actual name, and no, she wasn’t responsible for it, didn’t move a muscle. She’d adopted him from the shelter two years ago when she was feeling lonely and sorry for herself. She was sure a cat would help. He did. Slappy was awesome. He was mean. Terrifying. A horror at the shelter who hissed and clawed at everyone. The staff felt sorry for him, since, he was brought to the shelter when his elderly owner died of cancer and no one in the family could keep him.
She’d walked in like a conquering hero and asked for the hardest luck case.
She’d walked out with Slappy.
It was love at first sight.
She bribed her way into his heart with a can of tuna, a soft warm bed, and her loving arms. Turns out, that was all the crotchety cat needed. No more hissing. No more clawing. No more slapping.
“Slappy?”
Still no answer.
Ash sighed. “Okay, well, that’s alright. You just keep on sleeping while I get up and do the dishes and my laundry and maybe get us a few groceries so we don’t starve.” She didn’t say the magic word. She wouldn’t tempt him with tuna, since it worked every single time. She had none in the pantry and didn’t want to disappoint the old guy.
She was half out of bed before she paused.
“Do you think I should call him?”
Slappy’s side rose and fell. Rose and fell. Rose and fell. He let out a little cat snore, oblivious to her plight.
“I should probably wait until this afternoon, just so I don’t look desperate. Isn’t that right?”
Slappy actually flicked his tail in response. It was probably just a random sleep twitch, but she was enthralled as if her cat had suddenly started talking, giving her magical dating advice.
Not that she was really dating. This would just be… like a business thing. A friendly thing. It would be fake, because they’d need to get right down to business and discuss things her fake boyfriend would already know about her. Know and love. God, he’d be wild for her. He’d love that her blonde hair was unruly and more knotted than it was curly. He’d love that her hips were a little too wide and her ass impossible to hide in any pair of pants. He’d love that she was tall and awkward, but also somehow looked like a woman with breasts that always got in the way. He was a man. Of course he loved that, fake or not. He’d love that she hated makeup, that she hated being girly, that she detested shopping.
And most of all, he’d share a love for hot, kinky, cosplay sex.
Okay… well- maybe it was best to come up with something better than that. Fake or not, it was embarrassing even thinking about her fantasies. He’d share a love of comics and board games. There. And also for hot, kinky comic character, role-playing sex.
“Yeah, I wish.”
Ash rolled her eyes. She grabbed for her cell, which was on the nightstand. She flicked it on and rolled her eyes when she saw the text from her mother.
ARE YOU STILL ALIVE? YOU HAVEN’T TEXTED ME FOR TWO DAYS.
There was an hour long pause, then…
MAYBE YOU’RE ON A DATE. IF YOU’RE ON A DATE, THEN I’M PROUD OF YOU. I’LL EXCUSE YOU FOR NOT ANSWERING ME BACK. IF YOU’RE NOT THOUGH, YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE. TALK TO YOUR MOTHER BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE AND REPORT YOU MISSING.
“She wishes I was on a date. She always wishes I was on a date. Always with the dating. Won’t she be surprised?” Her mom and dad didn’t live in Twin Falls anymore, named for the tiny creek that cut through the town, no visible falls in sight, but maybe she’d be able to kill two birds with one stone.