His family grinned. Four sets of twinkling eyes spotlighted me—the perfect fake girlfriend.
“Oh brother,” Joon muttered.
Coral tutted. “Come on, kids. I have dessert for anyone who brings their clean plate.”
May scooted off her chair. “Okay. Don’t go while I’m gone.” She scurried into the kitchen after the grown-ups.
Her brother trailed behind. “Do I have to lick my plate?”
“No,” everyone answered.
I giggled and turned to Zack. “Is it always like this?”
“Yes,” he said. I loved the honesty and resignation.
He was used to strong women. He was used to chaos, to working hard and loving hard.
Was that what he wanted? Forever? With someone who threw lemon wedges?
Damn, I needed to get a grip.
After dinner, Zack walked me outside and shoveled the drive. So methodical. So motivated. A shiver danced through my spine as I waited for the car to warm up.
“So, how do you think it went?” I asked, worry threading my thoughts together.
“Good.” He stuck the shovel in the snow and wiped his sweaty forehead. His jacket stretched against thick muscles. “May didn’t want you to leave.”
“I know.” My chuckle broke out in wisps of steam, then faded to nothing. I toed the snow. “Is that a bad thing? You know, since you’ll break up with me in a couple months?”
“What?”
His harsh tone made me flinch.
Inside the house, the curtains rustled. Oh. He was afraid his family would hear about our scheme. I gave them an awkward wave in case they were still watching.
Zack frowned. “Why would I break up with you?”
Because we were fake dating? Because he didn’t actually like me?
“If anything, you’d break up with me,” he declared.
I narrowed my eyes. Was he serious or was this part of some weirdo show for his family? “Why would that be?” I asked.
He drew his shoulders up to his reddened ears. “I don’t know. My insanely overbearing family.”
I shrugged. “They’re actually kind of sweet.”
“Until you want to go against their plans,” he said, but I could read between the lines. I wasn’t supposed to stick around longenough to have conflict with any of them. “Plus, you’re out of my league,” he said.
I scoffed and crossed my arms. “Okay, Mr. Quarterback.”
He stormed closer. “You’re a model in a luxury apartment. I’m a bouncer and warehouse grunt who shovels driveways and lives in his parents’ basement.”
I arched my brow. “So what? My last boyfriend was a wannabe deejay at Armando and Hitch.”
“Yeah, but he had the clothes and the hair.” He shuffled a hand through his uneven buzz cut to make it even more endearingly ridiculous.
“He also had a side piece,” I said.
