Mama’s Boy by Avery Flynn

Chapter Fourteen

Dixon

Dixoncould—and did—run a multibillion-dollar cosmetics company without breaking a sweat, but right now his heart was hammering against his ribs like a guy who’d just gotten done climbing a mountain with an elephant on his back.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t had women come on to him before, but they’d always meant to. Judging by the way Fiona’s big brown eyes had widened and the splotch of red that had appeared at the base of her throat when she’d realized where she’d put his hand, there was no question she was as surprised as he was. Her gaze had gone soft and her breathing picked up at the same time that his cock started getting hard and his thought process shut down. His blood was rushing south, his better judgment was lost in the Bermuda Triangle, and he would have given his left nut to make his cousins magically disappear at that very moment.

His gaze dropped down to her perfect tits. He couldn’t help it. Yes, he was a dick, and his brain understood that what Fiona was doing was all just an act, but the rest of him wanted a different answer. She was obviously smart, a little devious, and the sweet-but-nerdy kind of hot that flipped every switch he had. But he had to keep his attention focused on the endgame, because falling for the worst date in the world was not the path to victory.

One of his cousins cleared his throat while the other covered a laugh with a fake cough—fifty/fifty odds on which one did which, not that he cared.

But instead of yanking her hand away from him like he’d expected, Fiona’s fake smile got 23 percent bigger and she kept his hand there, nestled between her breasts. If he hadn’t seen that little glitch in the matrix, he would have sworn she’d meant to have him practically cop a feel in front of his cousins.

“And lucky me, Fiona said she did hate dogs.” His gut twisting at the idea that she even might think she had to let him all but feel her up as part of their agreement, he pulled his hand free as smoothly as possible, which was not at all, before scooting over to give her some space. “Of course I fell for her right on the spot.”

Fiona didn’t say anything, but the way she let out a relieved breath told him everything he needed to know about how uncomfortable she really was with him having his hand on her like that. Then there was the way she bit on her bottom lip and looked down at her hands now clasped tight around her mug of hot cocoa. Shit. He had put her in this position starting with the mistletoe; it was up to him to get her out of it.

His cousins were right: he was a fucking soft touch, which is why he had Ernie screen his appointments and why he— The solution punched him right in the nose.

“I guess you guys are right about me,” he said, leaning back in his seat and dropping his arm across the back of the couch so that, from where his cousins were sitting, it would look like he had his arm around Fiona even though they weren’t touching. “It’s like Mom says, good things happen when you least expect them.”

Griff snorted before adding, “Bullshit.”

“That was pathetic,” Nash said.

Fiona looked from one of them to the other, a divot of confusion making a V in her forehead. “What are you guys talking about?”

“I have a kind of reputation in the family, and it’s probably time I just embrace it.” He turned to Fiona and smiled as if she were his sun, his moon, his first-place ribbon. “Mom was right. When you know, you know.”

“Dude was a psych minor and he thinks he can use reverse psychology on us.” Nash scoffed, then got up. “Come on, I’m starving.”

“You’re not winning this one, dumbass. We’re not gonna buy the fake starstruck-lovers bullshit so we can put you in the already lost column, but nice try,” Griff said as he followed Nash to the dining area that was set up with snacks.

“Think what you want. You’re wrong.” Not that they believed him, but it didn’t matter. That wasn’t the point. Getting them focused on something other than Fiona was.

As soon as Nash and Griff were seated at the table, their backs to the rest of the train car, Dixon leaned in close to Fiona. The way the short strands of her otherwise stick-straight hair turned wavy around her ears distracted him for a minute—more camouflage for whatever she was hiding?—but he pulled his attention back before he gave in and curled a strand around his finger. “Sorry about that. It was the first thing I could think of to redirect them.”

“That wasn’t necessary,” she said with a shrug as she pivoted away from him. “My plan was solid and subtle. You came in like a bull in a crystal shop.”

In what world was that even kind of true?

“My hand practically on your boob was subtle?” His gaze dropped down to her tits, and his brain went on the fritz even if his mouth didn’t. “Anyway, it’s china shop. The saying is bull in a china shop.”

She rolled her eyes. “Always have to be right, huh?”

“It goes hand in hand with winning.” That wasn’t part of the Beckett family motto, but it should be. They were right and they won a lot. It’s what they did.

“Ever think that you’re just winning the skirmish to lose the war?” she asked, messing up another idiom.

“It’s win the battle to lose the war and no, I don’t worry about that because I win it all.”

Except for losing Nicole even before the accident. That was the exception that proved the rule, but it wouldn’t happen again. Ever. He’d win here by never getting on the battlefield, which is why he had this bet with his cousins all wrapped up.

It was a solid plan. Even if it was beginning to feel like everything was going pear-shaped.