Truth Or Date

Falling for the man of her dreams…

Ruby Wood is perfectly happy playing the dating game – until she has a red-hot dream about her very attractive flatmate, Nick. He might spend every day saving lives as a junior doctor, but he’s absolutely the last man on earth that fun-loving Ruby would ever date!

The solution? Focus on all of Nick’s bad points. And if that fails, up her dating antics and find herself a man! So what if she manages to make disapproving, goody two-shoes Nick jealous in the process…

Only, after a series of nightmare first dates, there’s still just one man on Ruby’s mind. Maybe it’s time to admit the truth and dare to ask Nick to be her next date?

Also by Portia MacIntosh

Between a Rockstar and a Hard Place

How Not to be Starstruck

Bad Bridesmaid

Drive Me Crazy

Praise for PORTIA MACINTOSH

‘Impossible to put down, hilarious, fun, flirty and packed with excitement.’

— Victoria Loves Books on How Not to be Starstruck

**

‘A brilliant story full of fun, gorgeous rockstars, big egos and great friendships.’

— A Novel Thought on How Not to be Starstruck

**

‘Absolutely hilarious’

— Books and Bookends on Bad Bridesmaid

**

‘Sex and the City meets Gossip Girl … Very, very enjoyable read and can’t wait for more!’

— M’s Bookshelf on How Not to be Starstruck

**

‘A must-read for any one fancying a light heart and humour read, which can be devoured in one sitting.’

— Compelling Reads on How Not to be Starstruck

**

‘Fun-filled, sweet, crazy and always entertaining. Portia MacIntosh wrote a fab book.’

— Reviewed the Book on How Not to be Starstruck

**

‘Portia’s books guarantee a laugh out loud read and I wasn't disappointed with this one!’

— Comet Babes Books on Drive Me Crazy

**

‘A brilliantly fun story, that is incredibly entertaining, and highly enjoyable.’

— Rachel’s Random Reads on Drive Me Crazy

Truth or Date

Portia MacIntosh

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2016

Copyright © Portia MacIntosh 2016

Portia MacIntosh asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © April 2016 ISBN: 9781474049610

Version date: 2018-10-18

PORTIA MACINTOSH

has been ‘making stuff up’ for as long as she can remember – or so she says. Whether it was blaming her siblings for that broken vase when she was growing up, blagging her way backstage during her rock chick phase or, most recently, whatever justification she can fabricate to explain away those lunchtime cocktails, Portia just loves telling tales. After years working as a music journalist, Portia decided it was time to use her powers for good and started writing novels. Taking inspiration from her experiences on tour with bands, the real struggle of dating in your twenties and just trying to survive as an adult human female generally, Portia writes about what it’s really like for women who don’t find this life stuff as easy as it seems.

You can follow her on Twitter at: @PortiaMacIntosh

I’d like to say a super-massive thank you to my fabulous editor, Charlotte, for all of her support and hard work, and thank you to Victoria, Clio, Rhea and all of the other people behind the scenes at HQ Digital who take what I write and package it up in a way that makes it a thousand times better. From your solid guidance to the incredible covers you create for me, I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.

Writing under a pen name is tricky, it means that I have a very small group of people around me giving me support, but I get so much, I may as well have an army behind me. Thank you to my fellow HQ Digital authors for always holding my hand, thank you to all of the wonderful book bloggers who kindly spread the word about my books and the biggest thank you ever to my readers for their continued support. To be about to publish my fifth book is unreal, but to have people actually read and enjoy them is just beyond my wildest dreams.

Thank you to my rockstar, for always having my back no matter what. Thank you to A for being a wonderful lady. Thank you to my siblings for everything they do for me, for always keeping me in stitches and synonyms – depending on which one I needed at that particular moment in time. Thank you to my parents for always standing by me – especially my incredible mum who, despite having so much to contend with, has endless time and support for me. I would not be doing this without her.

Thank you to Handsome Face, my ambassador/admiral, for taking care of me and helping me out more than he’ll ever realise.

The biggest shout-out of all has to go to every bad date I have ever been on – I cannot believe I shaved my legs for you, but thanks for all the inspiration.

For Handsome Face

*fist-bump*

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Praise

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Acknowledgement

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Excerpt

Endpages

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

‘You look good in red,’ Nick tells me, stifling a laugh.

Were I not so happy to have just tied the knot with the love of my life, I would’ve climbed the nearest palm tree, removed the biggest coconut I could find and thrown it at my darling hubby because, as much as I love him, I hate it when he’s right. Last week as we shopped for the few last bits for our honeymoon, I dragged Nick into Hollister where I saw this beautiful cream sundress. I knew that it would be perfect for our trip to Hawaii, but Nick didn’t seem convinced. He just doesn’t buy into fashion, he’s one of those guys who just doesn’t get it, whereas I’m the kind of girl who would swap a kidney for a Hermès bag. It wasn’t so much the price Nick took issue with (although he did say it was a lot of money for very little material), what he worried about most was the fact the dress was cream.

‘You’ll spill,’ he told me as I admired it on its hanger.

‘Fuck off,’ I replied.

‘You will,’ he insisted. ‘You’re the messiest girl in the world.’

Of course, this just made me want the dress all the more, so I bought it and here we are, the first day of our honeymoon and I’ve spilled my Lava Flow cocktail all the way down the front. Just like Nick said I would.

Nick retrieves the chunk of pineapple that garnished my drink from my cleavage and pops it in his mouth.

‘I told you you’d spill on it,’ he chuckles. ‘It’s a miracle you didn’t spill on your wedding dress.’

‘That’s because I couldn’t eat in it,’ I admit, although it wasn’t because I didn’t want to. ‘If I so much as inhaled too deeply, it felt like it might burst open – and flashing my boobs on my wedding day is just the kind of Carry On moment you expect of me. None of the glossy wedding mags prepare you for the fact that your wedding dress will be the most uncomfortable thing you’ll ever wear.’

‘Yeah, they don’t warn you that the first thing your new bride will do when she gets to the honeymoon suite will be hurry off her dress before pillaging the minibar either.’

I scoop some of the cocktail slush from my chest and flick it at Nick’s bare stomach. He just laughs, lying back on the sand to catch some rays.

‘Throw it in the sea,’ he suggests. ‘Back to its natural habitat. I’ll bet it has missed the sound of the waves in the shop – so stupid.’

‘Leave Hollister out of this,’ I snap, jokily.

I peel off my dress, lie down on the sand next to Nick and rest my head gently on his bicep.

‘I’ll tan weird if you cuddle me,’ he laughs, the sweltering heat from the Hawaiian sun beaming down on us.

‘You’ll get over it,’ I reply.

Lying here with the man of my dreams, with nothing but the peaceful sound of the ocean filling my ears and the delicious smell of strawberries filling my nostrils, I sigh and smile to myself. I am so disgustingly happy.

Unable to resist him a second longer, I climb on top of Nick, leaning forwards to kiss him passionately. He places his hands on my hips before running them slowly up my body. I part our lips, but only so I can moan softly at his touch.

‘I love you, Nick,’ I tell him.

‘I love you too, Ruby,’ he replies. ‘Ruby…Ruby…Ruby…’

Nick’s voice grows louder, louder still and then more aggressive. It sounds like he’s pissed off, come to think of it.

‘Ruby,’ he shouts. ‘Wake up.’

I jolt awake suddenly, sitting upright.

‘What the hell?’ he asks, angrily.

I glance around for a second, taking in my surroundings… I’m not in Hawaii at all, I’m in my living room. I’m not wearing a bikini, I’m in my underwear. I’m not lying on a beach, I’m on top of Ben, a guy I’ve been seeing for a couple of weeks. Oh, and Nick isn’t my husband, he’s my flatmate. My boring, stuck up, joyless flatmate that I can’t stand. And I was just having a sex dream about him – eww! I feel my cheeks flush with shame – not because he’s caught me semi-naked with a bloke, but because I was dreaming about him. That I was in love with him, that I’d married him… I was about to have sex with him!

‘What time is it?’ I ask him, rubbing my tired eyes, only to cover my hands in black eye make-up.

‘It’s 7am,’ he tells me, his eyes shooting laser beams of judgement at me as he glares. Luckily for me I’m used to Nick looking down his nose at me, and anyway, the sheer volume of body glitter I’m wearing can easily deflect even the strongest laser.

‘What day is it?’ I ask.

Nick shakes his head and sighs.

‘Friday. It’s Friday, Ruby.’

‘Oh fuck, I’m at work in an hour,’ I reply as I massage my temples, my hangover from last night now in full force.

As Nick stands over me, eating a bowl of Weetabix like he does every morning after he gets back from the gym, about to head out to his proper serious job, I can feel him judging me. It’s not my fault he doesn’t know how to have fun, is it?

‘So this is your online dating weirdo, how are things going?’ he asks, nodding towards the heavily tattooed, muscular man that I’m using as a bed. I take a moment too long to answer. ‘That badly?’

‘All good,’ I reply, unconvincingly. I’ve been dating Ben for about three weeks now, and things aren’t exactly going that well. Last night was our third date, and despite every girly magazine I could get my hands on assuring me that date three was when the magic happened, the magic did not happen last night. Still, from the way Nick is looking at me right now, I doubt he believes that. In Nick’s head I’m his hoe-bag flatmate who seemingly ploughs through internet dates, when in reality that’s not the case – I wish I were getting even one per cent of the action Nick thought I was.

Nick fakes a gasp.

‘Are you telling me that you hooked up with a guy you met via your phone and it’s not a fairy tale romance?’ he asks sarcastically.

I cast my mind back to our date last night. As much as I don’t want to give Nick the satisfaction of being right, the need to tell someone feels greater.

‘Things have been going well, it’s just…I met up with him yesterday and he told me he was taking me to a family party,’ I start.

‘Weird,’ Nick chimes in. ‘You’ve only been on a couple of dates with him, kid.’

‘I know, and weirder still: what he didn’t tell me was that it was a wake.’

‘A wake?’ Nick echoes loudly in disbelief, and in a much higher pitch than his voice usually is.

‘I’m awake, I’m awake,’ Ben says, panicked as he jumps to his feet. He does so without having realised I was on top of him, causing me to fall back onto the sofa. As he glances between an angry-looking Nick, and me in my underwear, he puts two and two together – coming up with wrong answer.

‘Look, calm down, nothing happened, OK? I didn’t sleep with your girlfriend,’ Ben babbles, stressing it in such a way that makes it sound like this is an excuse he has to make often.

‘Oh, charming,’ I say, annoyed that Ben thinks I’m the kind of girl who would have a boyfriend and still date around, but he isn’t listening.

‘She’s not my girlfriend, she’s my roommate,’ Nick corrects him.

I watch as Ben expresses visible relief.

‘Well, in that case, good to meet you, I’m Jonathan,’ he chirps, offering Nick a hand to shake. Nick doesn’t oblige.

‘Your name is Jonathan? I’ve spent three dates calling you Ben,’ I blurt out.

‘Yeah, I thought that was like a cute nickname or something,’ he laughs.

I giggle, puzzled, but what I see as a hilarious story for my blog, Nick is unimpressed by.

‘I just don’t get you, Ruby Wood,’ Nick says angrily, pointlessly using my full name like a pissed-off parent. ‘What are you doing with your life?’

‘What are you, my fucking dad? Why can’t you just be cool?’ I ask him, sounding like a teenager whose dad just confiscated her cigarettes – incidentally, something Nick has done with me before. In the end it was just easier to quit smoking than it was to put up with his complaints and his borderline OCD smell-removal techniques.

‘I’ve got to get to work,’ Nick tells us. He heads to the kitchen, rinses his bowl and spoon, places them in the dishwasher and then leaves without so much as a ‘see you later’.

Jonathan – not Ben – and I are sitting on the sofa next to each other awkwardly.

‘So your roommate seems fun,’ Jonathan says sarcastically.

‘He really is like my dad or my granddad or something,’ I reply, irritated, still sounding like a teenager.

‘You should move out,’ he tells me, like maybe that hadn’t crossed my mind.

‘There’s no way I can find a flat this central for this cheap,’ I tell him honestly. ‘Nick comes from a super-rich family, but he won’t take any money off them, so he reckons he can’t afford to move either. If either of us should move out, it should be him, don’t you think?’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ Jonathan replies, followed by an awkward silence.

I wonder how I managed to call him by the wrong name for so long. I suppose that’s app dating for you, it’s like fishing with multiple lines. I guess as I reeled this one in, I mixed up his name with a different fish.

‘Listen, Ruby, we’ve had fun right?’

I think for moment. No. No we haven’t. On our first date he suggested we go to the cinema – a rookie error, because it involves sitting in silence for two hours – and on the second we went to a bar and got drunk. Oh, and then the wake date. Jonathan is a good-looking dude, but he’s a bit weird. There’s something almost tortured about his personality, like he’s got some issues he needs to work through. Don’t we all, though? Still, he does have his good qualities too, so I’m happy to see where this goes. I’m not going to ditch the guy just because he took me to a family funeral without telling me.

‘We have,’ I lie with a warm smile.

‘Well, I think we should call it a day,’ he tells me. I feel my smile drop.

‘What?’

‘I just…I think we’re moving in different directions.’

‘Oh my God, seriously? Are you really giving me the old lines? Is it not me, is it you?’

Jonathan grabs my hand.

‘It is me,’ he assures me, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.

‘You’re damn fucking right it’s you,’ I reply.

Jonathan drops my hand and jumps to his feet, wrestling his clothes on as he talks, his tone suddenly becoming significantly less friendly.

‘OK, cards on the table, when we got back last night I thought I might get lucky, but you didn’t even want to sleep with me,’ he explains.

‘Dude, we’d just got back from your dad’s wake – that you didn’t even tell me we were going to.’

Oh, did I not mention that it was his dad’s funeral? I suppose I didn’t want to give Nick too much ammunition when he teases me about this every day until one of us moves out.

‘Yeah, well don’t you think I needed some comfort after that?’

‘So I’m supposed to bang you out of sheer sympathy?’

‘Well, it would’ve been nice,’ he replies, like it’s a fairly reasonable expectation.

‘You’re disgusting, get out,’ I demand.

Jonathan puts on his shoes and heads for the door, slamming it behind him.

Lying back on the sofa, I massage my temples for a moment. My head is banging, and I’ve got to be at work in an hour. Is getting dumped a good enough reason to call in sick?

‘Awkward,’ I say to myself. ‘So, so awkward.’ Not only what just happened with Jonathan, but my dream about Nick too. Not only do Nick and I not get on, but we’re like enemies, both driving the other crazy, but neither of us in a position to move out. The fact we’re stuck with one another only makes us hate each other even more.

I glance around the floor for my outfit from last night, only to find that Nick has folded my dress and placed it neatly over the back of the sofa. I grab it, shaking my head at his anal neatness as I meaningfully and defiantly unfold it. All communal areas of the house must be neat and tidy to a military standard. Sir, yes, sir.

Tossing my clothes through my bedroom doorway, I head straight for the shower. I know that I’m running late, but after an uncomfortable night on the sofa cuddled up to a sweaty, emotional wreck of a man, there’s no way I can go to work without washing some of yesterday’s failed date off of me. I’m literally going to wash Jonathan out of my hair – well, his sweat and tears at least.

I turn on the shower, cranking up the hot water to make the bathroom nice and steamy while I brush my teeth. I’ve got that fuzzy mouth feeling you’re left with after too many sugary alcoholic drinks. Typically, I’m out of toothpaste, but that’s what flatmates are for, right? Borrowing things from.

I can see from Nick’s toothpaste tube that he’s used approximately 1/8 so far, with the used 1/8 neatly folded over a few times, thus giving the appearance of a perfectly full, slightly smaller tool. Does he really have that much spare time on his hands? Really? In another act of defiance, I not only use his toothpaste, but I squeeze from the middle of the tube, leaving behind a big, fingertip-shaped dent in it.

Finally stepping into the hot shower feels glorious, I can feel my bad date washing off me. Sure, I’m annoyed at how he behaved, but mostly I’m just annoyed to have another bad date on my romantic CV. Hardly seems worth putting Jonathan down, for a mere three weeks, but they always say it’s better to put jobs down that you didn’t have for long/got fired from, rather than have big, unaccounted-for gaps in your employment, right?

I grab my delicious-smelling pina colada-scented shower gel and rub it all over my body. I love the smell of it because it reminds me of my two favourite things: cocktails and the beach. Which reminds me, I’m not only washing away Jonathan, I need to scrub myself clean of that sex dream about Nick. Nick Hall! I can’t believe it.

I think to myself as I shampoo my hair. I’ll admit that the first time I met Nick right here in this very flat, the first thing I noticed about him was how sexy he was. A sexy doctor, no less – that’s like every girl’s fantasy. Sharing this small space didn’t suit us though, and it’s amazing how quickly you can go off a person when they start to grate on you. One thing I can definitely put on my CV is that I’m not shallow, because not even Nick’s chiselled good looks, bulging biceps or romance novel-worthy profession can sway how I feel about him.

So why the hell did I dream that about him today? It can’t mean anything, can it? All that stuff about dreams meaning things has got to be a load of bollocks.

I shut off the water, and shut my dream about Nick out of my mind.

Once in the messy confines of my bedroom – where I am free to express my unorthodox organisational skills as I see fit – I grab a dress from the large pile of clothing on my bedroom floor – the division of my floordrobe which I have dubbed Mount Clothesmore – and search for my make-up bag because today my face is going to need everything it has to offer. If I don’t get a move on, I’m going to be late for work, but it’s better to be late than ugly, right?

Chapter 2

‘So he took you to a wake and then dumped you? Fuck me, that’s as rough as you look,’ Millsy laughs as I meaningfully drain the takeaway coffee cup I filled with a double shot vanilla latte the second I arrived at work – fifteen minutes late, which isn’t too bad considering.

‘You don’t look so hot yourself,’ I reply.

‘Erm, yeah I do,’ he replies, and he means it.

Millsy leans over and looks at himself in the reflection of the shiny silver coffee machine. He checks his eyes for dark circles before securing the topknot they make him pull his dark brown hair into for work. He makes a noise of approval – the kind that most men would usually reserve for a topless calendar or a bird they fancied. Millsy mostly just fancies Millsy.

Joe ‘Millsy’ Mills has been my best friend my whole life – my entire 27 years on this planet. Our parents lived next door to one another, and because he’s only three months older than me, we started playing together almost immediately and that was it, we became inseparable. We went to playgroup together, then school, and even now we’re supposedly grown-ups, we’re still best friends, still playing together – except our games have changed a little as we’ve become older.