The Problem With Pretending Read Online Emma Hart

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
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“Amuses my grandmother to no end. Granny hates Carmen.”

“Your dad’s mum?”

“My mum’s mum,” I clarified. “I’ve never known someone to hate anyone as much as Granny hates her. She’s not allowed anywhere near her, or she’d be in prison for murder.”

“Wow. Does she feel that way about your dad?”

“She calls him a ‘lousy ratbastard’ almost every time we speak about him, so I’d say so.” I paused. “Sometimes her language is rather more colourful, and often includes a word I’d rather not repeat.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Dare I ask?”

“Um… If he’s not a lousy ratbastard, he’s a no-good, lousy see-you-next-Tuesday.”

William blinked at me. “Ah,” he said after a moment. “That’s not just colourful, Grace. That’s the whole rainbow.”

“A bit like her. She’s a walking rainbow.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

“She has a penchant for bright clothing that doesn’t always match,” I replied slowly. “And she also has a girlfriend who she insists is just her friend. I think she does that just so she doesn’t have to admit I was right the time I guessed it.”

“Ah. That’ll be where you get your stubbornness, then.”

“Pretty much.”

He laughed. “I’m surprised you admitted it.”

“Why not? I think it’s an excellent quality, especially since I’m usually right. There’s nothing like digging your heels in for a week only for someone to admit that you were right the entire time.”

William ran his tongue across his lips as they curved into an amused smirk, and oh, my God, would he stop doing that?

It was doing things to me.

Bad things.

Maybe I had had enough wine…

“Have you done that before?”

“What?” I asked.

“Dug your heels in for a week until the other person admitted you were right?”

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Yes, but Amber knew what she was signing up for when she moved in with me. She’s my best friend. It’s not like it was a surprise that I was right.”

His shoulders shook with quiet laughter, and he raised his glass to his mouth only to drop it again when a particularly stubborn chuckle overtook him. He propped his elbow on the arm of the sofa and pressed his forehead to his fingertips, and thank God he’d finally let go of my ankle.

Was it possible to get turned on by someone stroking your ankle?

Was that feet play?

Oh, God, was I turned on by my feet being touched now?

That might not be the worst thing. There was good money in feet pics, if you found the right people on the Internet.

“You live with your best friend?”

“I’m amazed you can form words. I’m not that funny.”

He dropped his hand back to my ankle with a noise that was half laugh, half happy sigh. “It’s just the way you say things. No sugar-coating with you, is there?”

“I’m sweet enough.” I grinned. “Yes, we live together. Have you seen the price of utilities these days? Who can afford that by themselves?”

Me.

I could.

I just chose not to.

“Very true, especially in Oxleigh and the surrounding areas. Do you rent?”

“No. I was fortunate enough to have an inheritance I could invest in my house,” I answered.

What?

I wasn’t lying.

Technically, it was an inheritance.

“It’s probably cheaper than renting,” he surmised, and correctly, too. “Have you known each other long?”

“My goodness, Lord Kinkirk. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to get to know me.”

“That fucking name,” he muttered, drawing in a deep breath.

I hid my laugh behind my sip of wine.

This was so much fun.

“If you’re my girlfriend for the weekend, I should know something about you,” he reasoned. “Besides,” he added with a mischievous glint in his gorgeous eyes. “It doesn’t matter. You’ve made it very clear we’re never going to see each other again after this weekend.”

“I wasn’t lying,” I replied pointedly, tilting my glass towards him. “You might sway some women with all this fancy nonsense, but not me.”

“Are you not impressed by the castle?”

“It’s Scotland. It’s hardly unique to Duncree, is it?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN – GRACE

Trauma Bonds and Bingo Cards

“Wow. Pass the aloe vera.”

“Oh, stop.” I nudged my heel into his thigh again, shifting to sit up a little straighter. “I just… It’s all very lovely, and the castle is wonderful, and I truly hope I can explore and pick your grandfather’s brains a little for some history, but it’s just not anything that impresses me on a personal level.”

“Only on an academic level?”

“An academic level is better than no level at all.”

“Very true.” He bobbed his head in agreement. “I suppose that shall suffice, although I am quite determined that we’ll be at least friends when this is over.”

“What? Are we going to form a trauma bond over a wedding?”

“You joke, but I think Mum and Grandpa almost did today.”

“Really? Because from what I understood today from your dad, those two in the same room is akin to a nuclear bomb going off.”


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