“Well?” The dancer’s voice jerks me back to the present, and I shake the thoughts away.
“Everything a real boyfriend does,” I tell him. “I don’t want anyone knowing it’s not real.”
He worries the strap of his bag with his long index finger. His nails are bitten down to the quick. “I don’t know . . .”
“It’s only a week.” The words feel strange as they leave my mouth. Like I already wantmorethan just a week.
He’s quiet for a long minute, his brow furrowed. Judging from the indecision in his eyes, he wants badly to say yes.
I can’t believe I’m offering him this. What the hell am I thinking? He’s a stranger; how can I trust him to go be around my family and keep the secret that I’m paying him?
I watch him war with the idea, and I realize how deep his desperation actually runs. I don’t need to worry about him telling at all. He wouldn’t risk losing the money. I feel guilty all over again for getting him fired.
“Do you expect me to be your boyfriend in private too, or just when we’re around other people?”
Those images of us together flash through my mind again, but I shut them down quicker this time. “Obviously, I don’t want you hooking up or seeing anyone else while we’re supposed to be together. Whatever we do in private is up to you.”
“Up to me?” His voice is filled with confusion, like the very idea of him choosing is a foreign concept.
“Yeah. It’s not like I’d demand you do anything you didn’t want to do.” But, fuck, I’m hoping he does want something.
He doesn’t say yes, though. So I add, “Why don’t I give you my number, and you can text me your decision.”
Wordlessly, he pulls his phone from the back pocket of his tight jeans and hands it to me. The phone’s several years old and has a crack down the middle of the screen. When I turn it on, there’s a picture of him and another guy who bears a striking resemblance to him. A brother, probably.
“What’s your name?” I ask as I fill in my name and number. “Your real name?”
“Sam.”
I close the contacts app and hand the phone back to him. “I’m Dalton Kane. Can I give you a ride home?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then will you at least take this?” I shrug out of my coat and hold it out to him.
“If you’re thinking this is a surefire way to get me to reach out to you, you’re wrong.”
“If you don’t want to go with me, that’s fine. You can keep the coat. Consider it part of my apology.”
He hesitates again. I’m starting to realize it may have been years since anyone’s shown Sam any flicker of kindness.
When he steps closer and takes the coat from me, it feels like a huge win, though I keep my expression neutral.
“I’ll be expecting to hear from you,” I tell him. “Don’t make me wait too long.”
Four
Sam
“Are the tips really good or does someone really like you?” Nathan asks the minute I step inside our rundown apartment. My brother’s at the small desk I bought for him at a thrift store, but the book he was studying lays forgotten since he’s staring at me.
“A customer loaned it to me since it started snowing.” Nathan doesn’t really know what I do at Vinnie’s. He thinks I work as a waiter at the restaurant across the street from the club.
“Looks expensive.”
“It is.” I shrug out of the coat and try my hardest to ignore the scent on it. A spicy, musky smell that has my mouth watering. Just because he’s the first guy to treat me with some dignity in a while shouldn’t mean anything. He’s a complete stranger. Who offers someone twenty grand just to pretend to be their boyfriend for a week?
“You okay?” Nathan’s voice dips. I hate that. I wish he could just sound carefree like the other guys his age. Though he’d probably say the same thing about me. “You’re home early.”
