The Dare

Doubtful, it was Oregon, not California.

Jace held out my chair. There were eight seats around the grill. I'd hoped it would be just me and Jace, but mixer made it sound like we had to mix. Which totally reminded me of college orientation where you run around playing silly games, trying to get to know people in your class. I hated mixer games; I always ended up being the awkward one or, worse yet, the boring one with no boxes checked on Get-to-Know-Me-Bingo.

The restaurant looked really empty. Maybe it wasn't going to be as packed as I'd thought? Hope died the minute I heard a familiar voice.

"So you guys made it?" Brett slapped Jace on the back and took a seat, leaving Paris to pull out her own chair. Poor soul struggled sitting in it because her spandex dress was so tight her legs wouldn't lift high enough. A nicer person would have helped.

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 bu

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."

"Bu

"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 gri

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 di

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 gri

"So now I get action."

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea."

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