Screwed (V-Card Diaries 2)

And if he keeps that sweet shit up after we’ve slept together, by the time we get back to the city, I’ll be running a First Dick Fever of one hundred and three.

Nope. I need to bail on this. Now.

As I push Gram into the elevator and punch the button for the ground floor, I’ve already decided to text Derrick while Gram is catching up with Leonard. Then the elevator doors slide closed and a giddy squeal more appropriate for a thirteen-year-old meeting her boy band idol than an eighty-seven-year-old woman who’s just recovered from pneumonia fills the cab.

“Oh, honey, tell me everything,” Gram says, twisting in her chair with a giant grin. “Who is he? How did he pop the question? And when do I get to meet him? Oh, I bet he’s handsome. He’s tall, dark, and delicious, isn’t he? With sparkly eyes and a big, sweet smile, just like Prince Eric from that cartoon you loved when you were a little girl. You used to watch that one over and over again until we knew every song by heart. Remember?”

My mouth opens and closes like a landed fish.

How did this happen? And so fast, too?

Is she a witch or a mind reader, the way Lauren insisted every time my sister got caught sneaking out to meet Chuck when we stayed at Gram’s place by the shore in the summer?

Then Gram grabs my left hand and says, “Let me get a closer look at your rock, baby,” and I realize my stupid, stupid, stupid mistake.

I forgot to take the ring off until I was ready to spill the beans! And now Gram’s cooing and exclaiming over how beautiful my gas station rock is and there’s no way I can tell her it’s a joke or a mistake.

As I wheel her down the hallway to the main lodge, she’s so happy she’s practically bouncing out of her chair. She demands to hear the entire love story from the moment we met, to the proposal, to any wedding plans currently under way.

And then she says, “Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you. Even if I don’t make it to the wedding, it’s so good to know you’re in love with a wonderful man who’s going to treat you right,” and seals my fate.

“Thanks, Gram,” I say, my throat tight. “He is wonderful. And he’s here. We thought we’d surprise everyone with the announcement at dinner. So, you’ll get to meet him tonight.”

This time her squeal attracts the attention of the people waiting to check in at the front desk.

But she only laughs and waves at the couples turning to stare. “My granddaughter is engaged! And I get to meet him tonight!”

The people grin and call out their congratulations while I force a smile and wish I could melt through the floor. I vastly underestimated how mortifying it would be to lie to my family about something like this.

But it’s too late to come to my senses now.

For better or worse, Derrick is now my sweet, sparkly fiancé.

Oh God. What have I done?

Chapter Nine

Derrick

I text Harlow our room number on my way to drop off the bags, but she doesn’t text back. Assuming she’s busy with her family, I head out to ski my favorite short trail behind the property.

It’s a gorgeous sunny afternoon—cold, but crisp and clear—and by the time I return to the resort as the sun’s setting, I’m calm and centered once more.

And I’ve whipped up a perfect plan to throw Harlow off her game.

It’s simple, but many of the best plans are. Just like in hockey, often it’s a clean, straightforward game that gets the goal.

So, I take my time in the shower, lingering in the steamy bathroom with the door cracked until I hear the heavy entrance door clunk closed in the main room of the suite. Then, and only then, do I shut off the spray, dry off, and wrap a towel loosely around my hips.

I’ve always been a gym rat and getting a desk job straight out of college didn’t change that. I work hard and have the chiseled abs to show for it, and my gut says wandering half-naked into our shared space will be enough to leave Bossy a little flustered.

And a little flustered is all I need to get back at her for all those friendly, platonic pats she was dishing out on the way up to the lodge.

I’m hoping for a double take or a stammer when she says hello. But as I step into the room where Harlow’s pacing in front of the coffee table, she spots me and jumps half a foot in the air. Then she gasps, turns bright red, and squeaks, “What? Why? Seriously! Put some clothes on, Derrick. And isn’t there a bathroom in your bedroom? Right through there?”