“You can take it if you need to,” Liv says, putting a spoonful of her cookies and cream into her mouth in a way that makes me jealous of the spoon.
“No,” I roll my eyes playfully, “they will never let me off the phone, and especially if they know I’m still with you.”
“You told your sisters about this?” Liv asks, a note of concern in her voice.
“I told them I was helping a friend who needed a plus one tonight,” I say, keeping it simple.
She leans in. “What did they say?”
“They said it was very on brand for me,” I reply with a small smile, taking another bite of my ice cream. I don’t mention their warning about coming on too strong and scaring her off.
Liv chuckles softly. “I get it. You strike me as the ‘save-the-day’ kind of guy.”
“You’re staying at the Whitmore?”
My eyes dart to hers and my dick responds embarrassingly to her asking which hotel I’m staying at.
“Um, yeah.” I try to shift subtly in my car seat at the image of her in my hotel room. Those brown curls fanning out over my pillow, her creamy skin naked, tangled in the white sheets, her cheeks flushed from—oh my god, Owen, get it together. I clear my throat. “It’s nice, understated, close to Eli.”
“It’s next door to Bar None. That explains why you were there last night.”
“Yeah,” my voice comes out in a little squeak. She looks over, and the streetlight casts a beautiful glow across her skin. She is radiant.
“So you have a parking spot there? At the Whitmore?”
My breath hitches a little, and I just nod.
“Want to park and grab a drink?”
I nod again and try to swallow the lump growing in my throat.
“Then I’m only two blocks away. I can walk home.”
My hope and my dick deflate and that lump in my throat turns into a stone in my stomach. But I snap out of it. I did her a favor; we’re fake dating for one night, and that’s over. We had a nice time getting a slice of pizza, and now we’re going to grab one drink before we go our separate ways with a handshake and nothing more.
An hour later, after we’ve nursed our bourbons for as long as we realistically can, I still don’t want the night to end. “Can I walk you home?”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that. I walk home from Bar None all the time.”
I should agree. I should say goodnight, shake her hand, and head upstairs to my hotel room.
“But your sisters would be disappointed in you if you didn’t walk a lady home?” she continues, raising an eyebrow in a mocking smirk.
“Very disappointed,” I confirm as solemnly as I can while my heart hammers around my chest like aLooney Tunescharacter.
“Let’s go then,” she says with a smile, and I toss a few twenties on the bar—completely unconcerned with the change. I follow her out the door, the same one I’d stared at last night, wishing I’d had the nerve to chase after her then.
God—wasit only last night that I met this beautiful stranger?It feels like I’ve known Liv my whole life.
It’s cooled off when we step out of the bar, the quintessential San Francisco fog having slid back into Liv’s neighborhood. She’s still wearing my jacket, and I want to climb back inside it with her still in it.
We make small talk until her building appears, the two blocks feeling like two steps. I watch her punch her code into the keypad. I’m not sure if I should leave her here or walk her all the way to her apartment door, but she holds the glass door for me, so I follow her inside.
“Owen,” she says, turning to face me when we reach her door, “I never thought I would be thanking someone for being my fake fiancé, but once again, Thank you for pretending to be in love with me to get me out of a yet another compromising situation.”
She bites her lip, and before I can stop myself, my hand cups her jaw. Her brown eyes widen, and I catch the subtle quickening of her breath, the way her pupils darken at my touch. I pause, waiting, when she leans in just slightly.
“I know we’ve been pretending tonight,” I say softly, “but I’d like to kiss you for real. Would that be okay?”
