I shoot Nate an eye roll. I know what he’s up to. We’ve worked together for years. He’d better keep his eyes open for payback because it’ll be a bitch.
Lili wastes no time in getting down to business.
“I’m prepared to pay for the repairs to your car, so you don’t have to claim through insurance. If you’ll do me a favour.”
This woman is a trip. I wonder what kind of men she’s been hanging out with if she thinks this attitude will work.
“Hmm. Well, firstly, you’re at fault, so my insurance isn’t going to be an issue. Yours will. Secondly, even if I did have to claim through my insurance, it’s no big deal.” I shrug.
In reality, she did me a favour by hitting that door. It saved me from having to pay for it to be looked at. Right now it’s being held closed with an occy strap. Getting quotes for repair is on my to-do list for this week.
Maybe if I were earning what the average barista earns, finding the money for the insurance excess could be an issue. But I’m not. In fact, none of my baristas earn the basic wage. I pay my staff well, and we make the best coffee on the peninsula. Bar none.
That scowly look from yesterday is back. She doctors her coffee with a little sugar and stirs it slowly. The look of surprise on her face when she takes a sip is priceless.
“That’s really good.” She takes another sip, giving every appearance of savouring it.
“You don’t have to sound so surprised.” I hide my grin behind my cup.
Now that she’s softened me up with a compliment, it’s back to business. She sets her cup down with a snap.
“Well, if you don’t want to do me a favour, why did you agree to meet?” Those luscious lips, today coated in nothing but a little lip gloss, purse. If only she knew how stupidly sexy that look is.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t prepared to do you a favour. Just that the insurance issue has no bearing on whether I do or don’t. So, what’s the favour?”
Lili clears her throat. A light blush runs up her cheeks. She squirms in her chair. And I wait.
“I need a … well, a … date. I mean, a fake date. Not a real date.” Those black coffee eyes flick up to my face, trying to gauge my response. I let her squirm a bit longer. I’m taken aback by her suggestion. She’s beautiful. Surely, she doesn’t have any problem getting a date? Then again, she’s pretty prickly, and that’s not to everyone’s taste, so maybe.
“You need a fake date? Like aPretty Womankind of thing? ExceptI’mthe hooker.”
“Yes. I mean … no. Well, kind of.” Lili stumbles to a halt.
“What would my girlfriend think of this idea, I wonder?” I ask with a tilt of my head.
“Oh.” The blush she was sporting turns nuclear, and her eyes widen and dart around as if expecting said girlfriend to pop up from behind a table somewhere. “Of course. You’re not single. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that. Forget I said anything.” She flaps her hand in front of her face as though batting away a terrible idea.
“Kidding. No girlfriend,” I say with a grin.
Lili looks like she might bite through her tongue in her attempt not to snap at me.
I break off a piece of brownie and put it in my mouth, slowly sucking the chocolate off my fingers, all the while holding her gaze with mine. Her blush deepens again. She licks her lips. It’s hard to tell, because her eyes are so dark, but I imagine her pupils dilating. If I’m reading her right, she’s gone from embarrassed to pissed off to unwillingly turned on in the space of a few seconds. I can’t recall the last time I had this much fun with my clothes on.
She breaks eye contact, and with a deep, put-upon sigh, she continues with her proposition. “My cousin is getting married. And my grandmother is trying to matchmake me.”
“Ah. So you need a beard.” I frown and nod earnestly as if this ludicrous proposition makes sense. The sarcasm sails straight over her head.
“Yes. Exactly. Someone to pretend to be my boyfriend. For the wedding.”
“Hmm. And when is this wedding?” I might never have been tempted to participate in one myself, but I love weddings. I’m a romantic at heart. Cake, booze, dancing. And bridesmaids. What’s not to love?
“It’s next month. It’s a … a destination wedding. In Hawaii. We’d have to leave in just over four weeks.”
“Hawaii? You want to take a perfect stranger to Hawaii?” I stare at her, hard. She looks surprised by my words as though she hadn’t truly registered what she’s suggesting. “And we’d be away for how many days?”
“A-a week. Well, eight days all up. She has lots of events planned.”
“Eight days?” I nearly choke on my coffee. That’s crazy. “Eight days of fake dating?”
