Rhiannon slides a shot glass of tequila into my hand and raises her own with a mischievous smile. “Cheers! Welcome to the family, Boone!”
“Cheers to what?” I ask, suspicious.
She shrugs dramatically. “Marriage? Isn’t it the best?”
I snort but knock the shot back anyway, feeling the burn warm my chest. Boone’s lips twitch, like he’s trying not to laugh as he exchanges hugs with Eden and Rhiannon all while Cain lets out another long-suffering sigh.
“Okay, let’s eat before Rhiannon and Rosie turn this storm into tequila-fueled chaos,” Cain grumbles, leading the way toward the dining room.
Boone falls into step beside me, leaning in just enough for his voice to rumble low against my ear. “I like Rhiannon. She’s fun.”
“Just wait until she starts grilling you about your sex life. You might regret saying that.”
He chuckles. “I wouldn’t mind. There’s not much to share.”
And there’s that stupid flutter of my heart that doesn’t make any sense. He pulls out my seat for me at the table. “After you, Mrs. Tremblay,”he murmurs so only I can hear, and I take it.
And though he doesn’t hold my hand like he did during our interview three weeks ago, especially when there’s no need to act like we’re married in front of my family, for some reason I miss it.
Two hours, a delicious, homemade dinner, and four tequila shots later, Rhiannon, Eden, and I are a wreck.
There are tears streaming down our faces, makeup smeared and we’re all gasping for air as we laugh so hard I’m clutching my side. We’re playing charades waiting out the storm, but not just any charades. Rhiannon found this set of cards on a sex shop site that she recommends to the couples in her therapy practice when they want to spice things up, so everything we’re acting out is...well,NSFW.
Boone’s parked on the couch, sipping ice water and watching us with quiet amusement. He’s the only sober one in the room andI wonder if it’s hard to stick to that with how out of control we’re all acting.
Meanwhile, my brother and Gabriel—Rhiannon’s older brother and their next-door neighbor—have jumped into the chaos alongside Eden’s new boyfriend, Dexter, their laughter just as loud as ours.
“Okay, my turn!” I announce, hiccupping a giggle before catching myself. “Wait. No talking. Let me start over.”
“You already said something, Rosie,” Eden teases, doubling over as I mime zipping my lips shut.
Ignoring her, I point at my chest with exaggerated urgency. This is the lightest I’ve felt in a long time.
“Boobs!” Rhiannon shouts.
I shake my head.
“Titties!” Eden yells.
I nod.
“Rack?” Gabriel offers.
I snort and run my palm up the center of my breasts repeatedly.
At this point, I’m a full-blown disaster. Wildly miming, jerking off the air like a lunatic while stabbing my finger at my chest.
Tears blur my vision, and I’m bent over, clutching my sides, while Rhiannon and Eden are literally rolling on the floor, screaming out the most ridiculous guesses that make no sense.
Then, Boone’s voice cuts through the madness, calm and serious. “Titty fucking,” he says.
The room freezes.
I straighten, struggling to stifle a laugh as I meet Boone’s gaze head on. He’s looking right at me but there’s no humorthere. His expression is caught somewhere between amused and heated desire.
I wet my lips. Oh my god, why is he looking at me like that? Is it the tequila that has my brain confused by his expression or does my fake husband… want me?
“Yes,” I confirm, my voice wobbling with suppressed and nervous laughter. “It was titty fucking.”
