Rachel Dyken - The Dare

I smirked.

Not because I wasn't nice.

But because she wouldn't take her whoring eyes off of Jace.

"Uh, yeah." Jace put his arm around me and tugged me close. "We thought a little food was necessary to keep going."

Would it kill him to be the smooth politician at least once today? I kicked him in the shin.

"Going?" Brett smirked.

"Like bunnies," I said without thinking. To be fair, I meant the Energizer Bunny, but that wasn't how it was understood.

Jace had just lifted a glass of water to his lips and started choking.

Brett's eyes narrowed as he took us both in.

"Good evening." A server approached with a cart of tea. "I'll be your server today. Your chef will be here momentarily."

"Bunnies, huh?" Brett smirked, ignoring the waitress, and his fiancée as well as the fact that the conversation had taken a downward turn into hell. May as well get comfortable, I didn't see things improving for at least a few hours.

"Yeah." I gripped Jace's arm, digging my nails into his skin; he yelped and put his water down.

"But enough about our very satisfying sex life… what have you guys been up to all day?"

"Searching," Brett smirked, "the Internet."

"Aw, shit."

I froze, momentarily thinking I was about to hear Donkey. Instead, my blood ran cold when I realized what Brett must have been searching. He knew it was a ruse. He knew we weren't together.

Rejection sucked.

I wanted to wallow.

How was it fair that the one guy who'd rejected me when I was in high school now thought I was a lying prostitute? Forget feeling insecure — now all I felt was shame.

"How much does she charge?" Brett asked calmly as he placed a napkin on his lap.

"Excuse me?" I seethed, reaching for a knife to stab him.

"For your services." Brett grinned smugly. "Not that I'm interested, since I really am happily engaged. Besides, I'm not a fan of disease."

Paris pulled out a nail file and began filing like the world was about to end if she didn't get rid of her chip and a hangnail.

I sighed. "Your definition of happy and mine are two very different things."

"You couldn't afford her," Jace snarled.

Okay, so not the rescue I was hoping for, but it worked.

"I've got money." Brett rolled his eyes. "And I wouldn't want her anyway."

"That's it." Jace stood and grabbed Brett by the collar. "Beth, we'll be right back. Brett and I are going to go have a little heart to heart and grab a few drinks, okay?"

"Sure." My hands trembled as they reached for the water glass.

"Welcome to Blu Hibachi!" A female voice all but shouted.

I looked up in horror.

There stood Grandma, giant-ass knife in hand, a black pantsuit, and a leopard scarf tied around her head.

"Should you…" I pointed, "have knives?" Or anything that could cause physical harm to herself or anyone standing within a foot of her?

"Of course." She threw the knife into the air. I almost passed out until she caught it with her other hand and winked. "I studied for years to learn the art of the Hibachi." She said Hibachi with way more emphasis on chi than I think the Japanese would say was appropriate. "Where's Jace?"

"Having a conversation." I sighed.

"With his fist," Paris interjected.

Oh wow, so airhead could speak. Nice.

"Fist?" Grandma began stacking vegetables and types of meats on the hot grill. The minute she threw oil on the heat, I was hit with a cloud of heat that should have singed eyebrows. "He's fighting someone?"

"Her fiancé." I pointed at Paris. "An old… friend."

"Please." Paris snorted. "He said you were like the nerdiest girl at his school, doubt that makes you friends."

I wasn't sure if I wanted to grab Grandma's knife and stab it into myself or just Paris.

She giggled.

Just kidding.

Paris. I wanted to stab Paris.

"You let Grandma handle these things." Grandma threw another knife into the air. "After all, this is your vacation, Beth, and you only have few days left."

"Of vacation." I finished.

"NO, you only have five days to make him realize what he's worked his entire life for is standing right in front of him. A Grandma knows these things."

"Grandma." I fought to keep the tears from rolling down my face. "I'm not that person. I'm not his penguin or lobster or whatever you want to call it. He's an island I'm lucky enough to be stranded on for the next few days, that's all."

"I sure hope not," Jace said from behind me. "I was hoping I was more than a damn island."

"What do you want to be?" I tried to sound like I was joking.

He gripped my face hard in his hands and kissed my mouth. "The world. I'd rather be the world."

Grandma cleared her throat.

Paris rolled her eyes and continued filing her nails at the freaking table. Seriously. Here's to hoping a piece of nail lands in her food and not mine because heads would roll if I crunched down on something that wasn't a carrot.

Besides, Jace had just said he wanted to be my world. I just about died as his words sank into my consciousness, healing cuts I never knew existed. "Where's Brett?"

"Oh, Brett." Jace grimaced. "He got sick."

Paris grabbed her purse. "Guess that's my exit then, huh?"

"Oh, he'll be back. I told him it would be wonderful to enjoy some dinner with him this fine evening."

My eyes narrowed.

Paris shrugged. "Fine, I'm going to use the restroom. If he gets back before I do, tell him I want something with shrimp."

Her heels clicked against the floor as she sauntered away, her ass nearly falling out of her dress.

I let out a breath of relief.

"Oops!" Grandma dropped some shrimp onto the floor. She picked it up and placed it back on the grill. Then she grabbed something out of her pocket and put a few drops in the sauce for the shrimp.

I smacked Jace, "Do something! She's drugging—"

I paused.

"You were saying?" Jace laughed. "Let her eat bad shrimp. See if I care. Technically, I can't kill the guy, but that doesn't mean I want to sit here and eat with them. The sooner Grandma gets rid of them the sooner we can romance."

"Romance? You're using it as a verb?"

He grinned, "It's an action."

"So now I get action."

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea."

My face fell. "He thinks I'm a prostitute, doesn't he?"

"No. He thinks what I tell him to think."

My head snapped up. "What did you do? Brain wash him?"

"Baby," Jace whispered in my ear, "sometimes being a politician has its uses. Brett's a weak man. My ploy had nothing to do with punching him in the face or lying to him. But everything to do with what I could get him. He thinks we're dating, and the story is a cover-up because of another scandal in my past."

"What did you have to do? To convince him."

"I paid him fifty grand."

My mouth dropped open.

"Geez, I'm kidding..." Jace chuckled, warm against my ear. "I told him I loved you."

My world plummeted. Had he no idea? That those three words had just shattered my entire existence? Because I wanted it to be real. And he just reminded me yet again that it wasn't.

"Hungry?" Grandma flipped a few pieces of clean shrimp onto our plates. "Eat up!"

"Are you really a chef and licensed therapist?" The agent asked.

"Yes." Grandma nodded enthusiastically. "I'm also a pilot."

"Licensed pilot?"

"Why do you keep saying license? Do I not look intelligent enough to have several talents and hobbies?"

"Why did you feel the need to get all of these… .certifications?"

"Because I know my grandsons. At one point, I figured I'd have to learn how to fight in the MMA arena, but thank heavens that didn't happen." Grandma shifted in her seat. "Besides, a good leader always knows one thing."

"What's that?"

"If you want something done, you sure as hell better do it yourself."

Jace

"If you as much as sneeze in her direction, I will stop at nothing to destroy your pitiful existence from the ground up."

The thing I should have said instead of…

"I love her."

Brett laughed. "Right. You do realize that half the world thinks you're on vacation with a new girlfriend, and the other half's convinced you're with a prostitute."

"Well, clearly, since I love her. She isn't a prostitute. Money doesn't need to exchange hands when you're in a relationship. Not that you would know that." I sneered.

"I'll expose you," Brett threatened. "After all, what type of concerned citizen would I be if I let a state senator get away with illegal prostitution?"

"Expose away. I have no secrets." I seethed feeling my control snapping, "But leave her out of this. Don't you think you've hurt her enough in the past?"

Brett's face pinched. "She told you about high school? That's kind of pathetic if you ask me. I mean, she's what, thirty? And she's upset about something that happened twelve years ago?"

"You're a bastard." I snapped "And by the way, It was me."

"You?"

"At the dance." I puffed out my chest. "Kissing her. It was me, so take your damn accusations and stuff them up your ass before I do it for you. We've been friends for an eternity, and I. love. Her. I. Choose. Her. Mind your own business before I pay a friend of a friend to cut the brakes to your car."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Of course not. We're just joking around. You, of course, are a little drunk after all those shots…" I reached for the drink on the bar and threw it in his face. "…and a little unsteady on your feet after getting in a crazy bar fight." I punched him across the jaw and then grabbed at his shirt again, steadying his body so I could punch him again. "Am I right?"

His face turned a hundred different shades of red before he pushed against my chest.

I took a step back and smirked. "Now, you're going to either apologize or wish you had."

"I'll go ahead and take my chances." Brett cracked his knuckles and took a huge swing in my direction.

I ducked and then punched him in the face.

Hard.

"Bastard!" Brett almost fell over. "You don't even love her! You're just dating. Something doesn't add up here."

"It's serious, and I do..." my voice cracked on the lie, "I do love her."

The minute the words left my lips I felt like I'd betrayed something special between us. As if I'd somehow cheated her out of having that experience because I'd said too soon. But it wasn't as if I would ever say it to her anyway, right?

I took another sip of whiskey and grimaced as the dry liquid burned down my throat. I shouldn't have told Beth that part. I should have kept it locked up inside.

Instead, she looked like I'd just told her I wanted to set fire to Donkey and eat a puppy for dinner.

"Eat, eat!" Grandma instructed loud enough to wake up the dead.

I was surprised I hadn't broken my hand — I'd never hit a guy so hard in my entire life.

"Shrimp?" Grandma asked as Brett took a seat on the opposite side of the table a good few feet away from me.

"Sure." His eyes darted from the plate to the empty seat next to him, "Where's Paris?"

"Bathroom," I said.

While Beth said, "Puking," under her breath.

"Great."

Grandma threw a knife into the air and then chopped some mushrooms in front of us and spread them out like a fan. For being eighty-six, she had quick hands.

I hadn't asked why she was our chef for the same reason I hadn't asked why she was our therapist. She was insane. Therefore, her cooking us dinner? Yeah, it made total sense.

I half-expected her to be our guide today for the excursion and wouldn't have even blinked if she walked into our room and claimed to be the maid. Hell, if she claimed to be president of her own country, I'd just pour myself a glass of scotch and ask which one.

Brett ate a few pieces of shrimp, alternating between licking his fingers and using his tongue to mate with them.