Free How To Lose A Bachelor by Anna Banks

it just might be all day.”
    To the older man in overalls next up in line, Grant extended his hand for a friendly shake. His one moment of resentment seemed to have dissipated in the summer breeze, and Rochelle couldn’t help but feel disappointed at how short lived her victory had been. She did notice though, that Grant’s eyes were still sharp, still steely. Was he jealous? And—did she care?
    “Hi, my name is Grant Drake. These guys here are filming a show called Luring Love . Have you heard of it?”
    The man scratched his white beard, a grimace puckering his expression. “I’m Magnus. Yeah, heard of it. My wife makes me watch it. Too political, if you ask me.”
    “Well, I can see why you’d think that. Listen, I’m this year’s bachelor. Rochelle here is one of the contestants on the show. She chose to run a kissing booth to raise money for battered women. What do you think about that, Magnus?”
    Her patron looked pointedly at her. “Well now, on the one hand, she seems to be raking in some dough for the charity. On the other…Well, you ought to open your eyes, son. My wife would call this strategizing. This young lady is trying to make you jealous by kissing a bunch of other fellas.”
    Grant laughed. Rochelle felt if her eyes got any wider, her eyeballs would fall out and bounce on the asphalt beneath them. What is he doing?
    “You think so?” Grant was saying.
    “It’s plain as high noon, boy.”
    “Hmmm,” Grant said thoughtfully. He studied Rochelle, his eyes locking with hers. “What do you think I should do about it, Magnus? Should I act jealous or pretend it doesn’t bother me?”
    Magnus shoved his hands in his overalls and rocked back on his heels. “I can’t rightly say.”
    Grant nodded. “It’s a tough call, isn’t it?” He sighed. “Well, we’ve got to film me visiting Rochelle’s booth, so if you don’t mind, could I possibly cut in front of you? I hate to ask, but the crew’s tired and ready for their break and this is the last shoot of the day.”
    “Aw heck, go ahead,” says Magnus, waving his hand.
    “Thanks, Magnus. You’re a good sport.” Grant turned to Rochelle then, his eyes flinty. He pulled out his wallet slowly, deliberately. “Who takes the money here?” he said without looking away from her.
    Rochelle’s assistant perked up behind them. “Um. I do, sir.”
    He offered her the briefest of smiles. “Good.” From his wallet he retrieved some bills and handed it to her. “For my turn,” he explained.
    Without further warning, he grabbed Rochelle and jerked her to him, using his hand to press her lower back into him. There was no space between them at all—except at their lips. Instantly, she regretted wearing the tiniest bikini on the planet. She might as well have been naked.
    “I’ve paid for this fair and square,” he told her softly.
    “There are rules—” she choked out. Oh dear God, she was going to have to kiss Grant Drake. She wanted to fight, she did. She brought her hands to his chest, intending to push him away, but they stayed there, reveling in the feel of him beneath his shirt, in the new contours and the old. Her body seemed to melt into his, the way it always used to. She gritted her teeth against the reality of the situation. She was in Grant’s arms again. And she was going to have to bear it.
    Seeming to sense her urge to fight, he shook his head. “I’ve paid for this moment with more than money.” And his mouth crushed down on hers. She tried to pull away, the rules and the money and the show be damned, but his prying tongue distracted her, flitting across her lips, asking for—then demanding—permission to enter. All she could think was to keep her mouth shut, to not allow him access, but he persevered, opening her wide. It was the kind of possessive kiss she used to love. It set every part of her on fire. One of his hands found the nape of her neck and pressed her closer still, the other cupped her hip, toying with