“Depends. I’ve heard horror stories.”
“But what if they fake-dated? Got stuck in a tiny town, shared a house, maybe even a bed.”
I smirk. “That sounds oddly specific.”
“Think it could work.” He nods. “Maybe they go to a concert for a date. Then dinner. They take it slow.”
“Slow, huh? They wouldn’t fall into bed after the second date?”
He shakes his head, serious. “Not until the third.”
I laugh. He glances at my mouth. Then my eyes.
“And maybe the girl doesn’t realize how many nights he thought about kissing her even before they started fake-dating.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“Because he’s an idiot.”
I sip my water, heart fluttering.
He leans in. “You’d be surprised how many boyfriends that girl had who broke up with her because the guy called too much.Always had an emergency.”
I stare at him.
“What did he do?” I ask.
“Oh, nothing major. Just made sure she was always thinking about him.”
“And why did he date other women if he was so in love with her?”
He smirks. “None of them were her. Didn’t matter how many names he forgot—they weren’t Olive.”
Something warm and dangerous curls inside me.
Then, of course, he changes gears.
“Do you like Mario Kart?”
“I do. Why?”
“You should come over. I’ll let you win.”
“I can’t. I’m shopping tomorrow with Mom and Phern.” I rub my belly. “And these two take it out of me.”
“I’ll give you a foot rub.”
“You’re playing dirty.”
He leans in, eyes lit with something dark and teasing. “Honey, everything’s fair when you’re trying to fall in love.”
The air between us hums.
I try to laugh, try to push back the tension. “Again, so forward for a first date.”
But I know he’s not joking. Not one bit.
We finish dinner. When the bill comes, he slides his card in the folder without blinking.
