Beauty and the Brit by Poppy St. James

STERLING

Igrab my phone and dial Noah, watching as Camryn’s taxi carries her into the night.

“So, Camryn’s really hot,” I blurt, my filter gone along with that last cocktail.

But geez, she really is. Tonight after leaving the bar behind, we walked and talked, and as simple as that sounds, it’s much more than I’ve shared with a woman lately.

Noah chuckles, and I hear Olivia shout something incoherent in the background.

“Oh my God! Do you like her? Like really like her?” Olivia asks excitedly.

“I’m on speakerphone, aren’t I?” Rubbing the back of my neck, I wait for Noah to answer.

“Sorry, buddy. Give me a second.”

I hear him speak in a hushed tone to Olivia, and then a click as he switches it from speakerphone.

“What in the world are you talking about? You and Camryn?” he asks.

I stroll down the sidewalk, hoping the fresh air will help clear my head. “Would it be the worst thing in the world if I pursued her?”

“What are you saying?”

“Camryn,” I repeat. She’s hot. She’s funny. Feisty. Smart. Why not?”

“Yes, I see where you’re going with this, good buddy, but did you forget about the inheritance? You’re supposed to get married. Married,” he repeats the offending word with extra emphasis.

“Yes, I know that. And Camryn’s supposed to help me.”

“Sterling, you’re going to have to dumb it down for me. I just spent the last three hours looking at paint colors with names like weathered stone and mossy linen. What are you saying? You want to date her while you’re looking for your wife? Have you lost it, buddy?”

Rolling my eyes at my friend’s idiocy, I hit the button for the street signal. “I’m saying, what if I continue working with her under the guise of finding a wife, but really, I’m wooing her.”

Silence.

“Noah?” I pull back the phone and glance at it for a second, wondering if the line went dead.

“I think it’s ridiculously stupid,” he finally says.

I hail a cab at the corner, and when one stops, I hop inside and direct him uptown. “How so?”

Noah scoffs. “If you like her, just tell her how you feel. Man up; ask her out for real.”

“That won’t work. First, there’s no way Camryn is going to just quit. She wants to see me get that inheritance, and of course, she wants her bonus at the end of this.”

Noah scoffs, but he knows I’m right.

There’s no way I’m walking away from my inheritance, and for what? A shot at a date? That would be crazy. Not when my mum is counting on me.

And there’s absolutely no way Camryn will agree to date me if she knows I’m still planning on getting married at the end . . . but I have no choice in the matter.

It must be the alcohol talking, because I sound crazy. I give Noah an excuse and shove the phone in my pocket. I really need to get my head in the game.

Once back inside my apartment, I leave the lights off, finding my way in the darkness easily. It’s an open-air loft and essentially just one big room. Sidestepping around the dining table and sofa, I find the wall that separates my bedroom from the living area and enter my room.

My mind wanders to how incredible Camryn looked tonight. The soft swell of cleavage under her low-cut top was mesmerizing. And the way she challenged me, probing, trying to tease out what I was looking for. She’s inquisitive, open, outspoken. Beautiful. The way she stood up for herself when those women made her feel inferior. I still feel as though I’m in a fog.

I strip my shirt off over my head, and tug my boxers and jeans down my thighs.

With thoughts of Camryn swirling in my brain, there’s no way I’ll be getting any rest. I wander into the adjoining master bathroom and crank on the shower. After a cold shower that does jack-all to cool my emotions, I towel off.

Sinking into my king-sized mattress, I let out a heavy sigh.

What is happening to me?

The cold shower didn’t even come close to taking the edge off. I’m still keyed up. Yet the text message from Rebecca, that I’m sure is a booty call, holds no appeal. I shove my phone aside without bothering to respond.

For years, the only thing I was sure of was that I never wanted to get married, and now that I’m faced with the fact that I need to, the one girl who suddenly looks very appealing is the only one I can’t have.

Of all the messed-up situations to find myself in, this is one I never imagined.

Noah was right. Asking Camryn out would be insane. It would be suicide. She’d call off this whole thing, and I’d be worse off than I am now. I’m building toward my goal of being able to take better care of my mum. I need to remind myself of that.

Lying there, staring up at the ceiling fan whoosh in lazy circles, I try to solve the puzzle buzzing through my brain. Do I really like her? Or do I only want her because she’s the one thing I can’t have right now?

Maybe it’s only the latter. Maybe she’s merely a good distraction for the game show that is my life at the moment.

Running a hand through my hair, I know that’s not it.

At least, I’m fairly certain it’s not.

I like her. Deep down, I really like her.

Lying here in the dark cloak of night, I make a deal with myself. I can spend more time with her—hell, I can even mess around with her if things come to that point—but I promise myself one thing. I won’t hurt her, won’t lead her on and make her believe this could be more. I’m going to be married in the next six months, and I know that true, everlasting love is a false promise that only lovesick fools would believe in.

Life doesn’t work that way.