Sweet On You

  Sweet On You

  Evie Snow

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Get Head Over Heels For Free

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Evie Snow

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  A dress store owner who thinks big. A fallen soap opera star who's out of luck. Second chance love is a spectator sport…

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  1

  “Derek? Are you going to take all day? It’s only a picture”

  Derek James heard his sister’s voice through his bedroom door and took a moment to contemplate how much simpler his life would be if he could explode people with sheer will of thought.

  If there were ever a time when a man needed solitude to do his own business and take a damn photograph, this was it. Everyone else in the world might be fine plastering their pictures all over the internet, but not him. He was the type of person who balked at having his picture taken, even for newspaper stories about his work with the Monterey SPCA—and those pictures were of him with clothes on, with a cute dog or cat in his arms to distract people’s attention.

  He gripped his phone in his left hand and braced himself against the wall, wondering how the hell he’d gotten into this situation. Oh, that’s right, he’d made the mistake of talking to Marlee about his personal life. Which now meant that he, a grown-ass man, was standing in his bedroom with his jeans around his ankles.

  “I’ve got a website here. It’s called Rateyourdickpic.com, and it says the best way to take one is by getting a half-loaf, whatever that is. I’m guessing it’s a half-wood, so I think you maybe need to make it half-hard. Not that I want to even think of my brother like that, but—”

  “Not helping, Marlee.” Derek focused on his reflection in the closet mirror. A thirty-five-year-old man with tawny skin, dark-brown eyes and a short fade looked back at him. It was the face of someone who’d stood his ground when charged by an aggressive Rottweiler two days ago. It was a man’s face. It had determination written all over it. Yeah. He was determined, and a lifetime of shyness around women wasn’t going to get in his way. This wasn’t a disrespectful thing. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He’d been asked to do this.

  “I’m helping you more than you know,” his sister piped up again. “For one thing, I’m standing on the other side of my brother’s bedroom door when I could be spending quality time with my husband on the first day we’ve been kid-free for months. Just take the picture. It can’t be that hard . . . oh wait, scratch that thought.” Derek thought he heard smothered laughter. In fact, he was sure Marlee was laughing. “Are you even trying? There are some really interesting tips on this website. One says you’re meant to evoke a feeling that gives the picture context. Are you evoking a feeling? If you were evoking a feeling, what kind of feeling would you be evoking?”

  “Right now all I’m evoking is the urge to come out there and kick your ass,” Derek growled while trying to refocus on the task at hand, which just happened to be his dick, which was literally in his hand. He raised his phone, sighted himself up and—

  “By the way, the person on this website says you’re not supposed to take the shot from straight over it. You’re supposed to take it from an angle, like it’s an accidental thing, you know?”

  “No, I don’t know!” Derek yelled. “How does a man accidentally take a picture of his wiener? It’s not like it’s gonna accidentally fall out of my pants and take a picture of itself.”

  That sent his sister into gales of laughter.

  Derek had had enough. “For God’s sake, Marlee, can’t you let me do this in peace?”

  “I would if I actually thought you’d do it. And if you’re not going to take it, why don’t you stop being a chicken and message this woman, Brea, to tell her it’s not your thing.”

  Derek had wondered the same thing himself, but then he’d remembered why he’d committed to this. Up until an hour ago, Brea Marquez had seemed like the woman of his dreams. They’d found each other on an online dating site last month, and for once in his life, Derek had felt like he’d met someone who could help him overcome the shyness that had crippled him around women his entire life.

  The minute he’d seen her picture on the site, he’d known she was someone he’d like to get to know. She had a sweet, round face framed by short, natural black hair that she parted on the side, and her laughing, soul-deep eyes had drawn him in straight away. It had taken him a while to work up the courage, but he’d messaged her, and had been surprised when she’d gotten back to him immediately, chatting with all the warmth that her picture had promised.

  Over the past few weeks, they’d messaged each other constantly, talking about all kinds of things. Each time Derek saw a notification pop up on his phone, he felt the excitement of a thirteen-year-old being smiled at by the popular girl in glass.

  Brea had been interested in Derek’s work as a humane officer for the SPCA and about the animals he’d adopted over the years. They shared a desire to travel and a mutual love of cooking, and Brea had even told him she was going to night classes to learn French. She’d seemed sweet, and had even been sympathetic when he’d told her about his anxiety issues. His heart had melted when she’d admitted to anxiety issues of her own.

  Which was why Derek had been floored by the message he’d received twenty minutes before his sister and brother-in-law had stopped by his place for Sunday lunch.

  Before we meet tonight, I need one thing from you. Talking to you has got me so hot baby that I want you to send me a very special picture. #dickpic

  Derek had done a double take. His first impulse had been to tell Brea he wasn’t comfortable with that, but then he’d stopped himself for fear of appearing naive. Maybe he was totally ignorant of how dating worked. A lot of dating sites and apps had a reputation for being filled with people only looking for sex, so maybe taking a picture of your junk was normal. A Google search had brought up a whole lot of women complaining about getting dick pics, but they’d all been sent them without asking. Brea had asked him. The problem was, he wasn’t so sure he could do this.

  Marlee’s knock on the door snapped him out of his growing panic. “Are you even alive in there anymore?” she asked.

  “I am fine. I can do this on my own.”

  “Let me get Sean so he can come in there and help you.”

  Derek’s eyes widened in horror. “No! Just leave me alone to do this.”

  “Sean!”

  There was the thud of footsteps on the stairs. “What?”

  “Derek needs help taking the picture.”

  “Leave the man alone, Marlee.” Derek’s brother-in-law at least had the decency to sound serious. Derek had always liked Sean.

  Marlee spoke again as if to punctuate Derek’s brooding thoughts. “I’ll leave him alone when he stops screwing up his life. He’s gonna do it wrong. This site says it’s supposed to be artistic. Women don’t want to get a picture of something that looks like a log. Or, in Derek’s case, maybe a twig.”

  “That’s not a nice thing to say. And I’m sure he knows how to be artistic,” Sean said.

  “Dammit, you guys! I can’t even believe I’m in this situation!” Derek yelled. He made a mental note to ask his mom why she hadn’t asked to have Marlee returned to whatever plane of hell she’d come from the minute she’d been born.

  “You’re in this situation because you were too
chicken to ask her to meet you before now. Or to even call her. If you’d already done that, you wouldn’t have built it up to being so big. Or small.” There was a sniggering sound.

  “Are you done? Because I swear if you don’t keep quiet from here on out, I’m going to come out there with my pants down and scar you for life.”

  “I’d like to see you try. Hurry up and take the damn picture.”

  “That’s what I’m doing!” Derek drew a deep breath, raised his phone and took two pictures from different angles, feeling like a fool. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Yeah, man. Sure is,” Sean said. “Marlee, stop filming the door.”

  “She’s filming this?!” Derek swiftly yanked his jeans over his hips and did up the buttons before wrenching the door open to find his sister and brother-in-law looking like two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

  Sean was the first to put on the mask of being a concerned family member, snatching the phone from his wife’s hands. “Not anymore.”

  “Hey! That would have gone viral!” Marlee elbowed her husband in the ribs, prompting him to wrap his arms around her, holding her tight.

  “I’ll babysit the girls any day you want if you delete that. No questions asked,” Derek said to his brother-in-law.

  “Done.” Sean held the phone out of Marlee’s reach, ignoring her protests as he deleted the video.

  “Did you take it?” Marlee turned her attention back to Derek after levelling one more elbow at Sean. She and Derek shared the same dimples in their cheeks, and right now both of Marlee’s were on show.

  Derek glowered. “Yeah. And we’re never talking about this again.”

  “Was it artistic? Did it look like a happy accident?”

  “A ‘happy accident’ is when I push you down those stairs behind you.” Derek ran a hand over his hair. “Whatever happened to buying a woman some flowers, maybe some chocolates, then taking her to dinner to see where things go?”

  That earned him two shrugs before Marlee and Sean burst into laughter. At his expense.

  “Some sympathy would be helpful. You know how hard this is for me.” He immediately regretted using the word “hard” when the two of them launched into renewed howls of laughter.

  2

  “You’re not going to wear that, are you?”

  “Rochelle, if you don’t butt out of my business, I’m going to kick you out of my house.” Brea Marquez was past hiding her exasperation. She threw the green dress she’d just pulled from her closet onto the bed and stood facing her sister with her hands on her hips. She was already wearing matching underwear per Rochelle’s insistence. It was a pretty pink-and-blue floral set that she’d brought on impulse two months ago to give her a confidence boost when she’d started online dating again after a year-long hiatus. “What’s wrong with the green dress?”

  Rochelle looked at her over a pair of glasses with bright-pink frames. “It’s not sexy enough. It looks like something someone would have worn to church in the eighties. And I’m not talking the cool eighties. I’m talking the bad eighties.”

  “We’re going to be sitting on the beach, on sand. What do you want me to do? Dress up like Beyoncé going to the Met Gala?”

  Rochelle flicked her braids over her shoulder, channelling Queen Bey’s killer attitude. “Why not? First impressions count.”

  Brea rolled her eyes. “And the entire town will think I’ve lost my head! I own a candy store, not a strip club!”

  “Aren’t you bringing the drama.” Rochelle threw a throw pillow at Brea’s head, which Brea batted aside. “At least wear something that shows off your waist. What about the pink one?”

  “This?” Brea pulled a pink halter sundress out of her closet.

  “Yes! It looks amazing on you.”

  “I don’t know . . . You don’t think it’s too tight? My chest looks massive.”

  Rochelle gave her a “duh” look. “And that’s a bad thing? You’ll look great in it.”

  “What about my upper arms?” Brea looked at herself sideways in the mirror. “Maybe I should wear something to cover them up. I really should’ve got myself a personal trainer like you did. Then I’d have amazing arms.” She flicked the underside of her arm, watching the wobble with a frown.

  “Stop with the self-pity. If you didn’t have a little extra, there’d be nothing for him to hold on to.”

  “And that’s supposed to comfort me? Especially coming from you?” Brea looked her sister up and down with an exasperated glower. Despite being eight months pregnant and constantly complaining about feeling like crap, her sister looked stunning.

  “Try carrying another human around for a couple of months and you can pull that face at me.” Rochelle poked her tongue out at Brea. “I’m going to say this once, and you’d better know I mean it: you’re beautiful, smart, sexy, and you own a goddamn candy store! What’s not to love? And if he doesn’t appreciate you for how amazing you are, I’m going to put on some heels and stomp him into the floor. You’re going to be fine.”

  The nervousness Brea had been fighting all day hit her in the solar plexus. She wasn’t good at dating. It was like she’d accidentally drunk an entire Big Gulp of awkward as a teenager and had been cursed ever since. She was a world-class expert in going out with a man only to find that she’d had parsley in her teeth most of the night or dropped food down her front. She always managed to get her period at the worst time ever (while wearing white jeans . . . not a good look) and had once accidentally kneed a guy in the balls when he’d been brave enough to go in for a goodnight kiss. Okay, the latter had been an accident—she’d tripped, and her knee had come up—but each little disaster had chipped away at her confidence until she went into every single non-work situation involving a guy knowing something would go wrong.

  And she really didn’t want to mess it up with Derek.

  She threw the dress on the bed. “I can’t do this. I can’t. Give me my phone back. I’m going to message him and cancel. We’ve been getting on so well and—”

  Rochelle waggled a finger at her. “Nuh-uh. No messages. That’s the plan you agreed to, and you’re going to stick to it. You gave me your phone this morning and told me that I shouldn’t give it back until he gets here to pick you up so you don’t chicken out and cancel. So that’s what I’m doing.”

  “But we came up with that plan hours ago! I’m not being a coward, I just think—”

  Rochelle pulled the same face she’d worn before pushing a six-year-old Brea into the deep end of Sanctuary’s swimming pool after Brea had told her she was too scared to practice her freestyle in front of people. “There’s no way I’m letting you get out of this. You were the one telling me two months ago that you felt lonely. You asked me to help you, and that’s what I’m doing. This date is going to go well, you’re not going to mess it up. Everyone is going to be oh-kay.”

  “I don’t know. He seems so nice, and he’s so fine. I’m so worried this is all going to go wrong. I’m going to do something stupid and—”

  “Brea, look at me.”

  Brea drew in a sharp breath and looked at her sister. “What?!”

  “Read my lips—you are going to be fine. Even if you do something stupid, he’s probably not going to care because he’s kind and kind people understand. He rescues puppies and kittens, for goodness sake! Plus, you said he’s just as shy as you are, which means that whichever one of you takes the lead is going to be in a position of power. Which means”— Rochelle held up a finger—“you should get your ass into that sexy sundress and wow the hell out of him.”

  “Okay, I’ll do it.” Brea snatched the dress off the bed and pulled it over her head, presenting her back to Rochelle so she could do up the zip. “If you’re not going to give me my phone back yet, would you mind checking my messages to make sure he hasn’t cancelled? And if he has messaged, can you tell me the way he’s written it?”

  Rochelle let out a burst of laughter. “The way he’s written it? You want me to
tell you if he’s inserted his comma somewhere inappropriate? Because you could do with some inappropriate comma inserting. When’s the last time you inserted a comma—”

  “You’re not helping!” Brea glanced in the mirror to make sure the finger coils she’d spent ages getting right that morning had air-dried nicely.

  “Yes, I am. I’m distracting you. And if it eases your mind, I checked your messages the last five times you asked. Relax. Remember, this is only you and another person going to get something to eat and watch a movie. That’s all. If you like him in real life, you like him. If you don’t, you can say thank you and walk home. It’s not like the beach isn’t only fifteen minutes away anyway. And if he turns out to be awful, then call me and I’ll come kick his ass for you.” The words should have been funny coming from a five-foot-two pregnant woman, but Rochelle in battle mode would make The Rock hide under the bed.

  Brea gave her sister a quick smile to say she loved her even if she was the bossiest woman on the planet. “Thanks. But I’m not worried about him. I’m more worried that I won’t be able to think about anything to say or that I’ll do something weird.”

  “From what you’ve told me about how shy he says he is, that will probably mean you’ll spend all your time sitting across from each other, not saying anything, getting hornier by the minute but not doing anything about it. Want me to do your makeup?”

  Brea reached into her closet for a pair of white Converse sneakers. They should be okay for the sunset cinema at the beach. They were going to watch Casablanca, one of Brea’s favorite films. “Yes, but let’s not go overboard, okay? I don’t want to scare him off.”