Well, damn. Everybody in his family seemed keen on welcoming me. They were nice. Loud. Friendly.
Of course, his family’s affection would end when our ‘romantic’ relationship did. If he found out about my foot-modeling career, it might end even quicker. But there was no point going down that road. These warm and fuzzy feelings were more fake than a purse sale on a sidewalk. I just had to get through the next couple dates without falling in love with him. No problem.
I sent a heart emoji back and hoped my real one wouldn’t get broken.
30
Kisses in Stock
At work, I tried to ignore my phone for a while, so I lost myself in the role of a shop girl. Our storewide playlist had finally shifted from holiday cheer to upbeat sex appeal. Stylin’ Myles crooned about worshiping every inch of his lover, and I swayed my way through the warehouse aisles to put away discarded shoes. In the back, there were no cameras, no Andre, and no real audience. I could dance like no one was watching.
I whisper-sang, bobbing to the beat as I scanned this shelf. Size 9, 9.5, 10… I slid the 10.5 boots into place on my tip-toes.
“Hey, nice moves,” Zack barked.
I spun and pressed my hand over my heart so it didn’t try to jump out of my chest. “What?”
My fake boyfriend smiled and braced his arm against a shelf. His muscles stretched out his uniform shirt. “You really like that Myles guy, huh?”
“Yes.” Unlike some people, he had no problem expressing affection. Well, in his songs, anyway. I pried another shoebox into its space.
“You okay?” Zack asked.
“Yep.” I’d be fine as long as I didn’t look at him.
He strode closer, and my heart tap-danced across my ribcage. Seriously, why did I like the smell of his sweat mixed with old spice?
“I’m sorry if I went too far in the driveway,” he said softly.
Oh shit. I didn’t want him to regret our kiss because I was acting weird afterwards. I had to be cool. Fake Girlfriend Nic shouldn’t be fazed by stuff like this.
I forced a laugh. “I’m not upset about that. I mean, it was more of a tackle than a kiss.”
“What? No it wasn’t.”
I shrugged, my smile a stitch more sincere. “You basically lunged at me. I mean, I get it. A former quarterback knows one way to score, so he goes for it.”
“Okay, how would you have done it?” he challenged, his neck bright red. “Gentle? Like a feather across your lips?”
“Maybe.” But not really. I glanced down the aisle. My pulse pounded against the cardboard boxes in my arms. “I could show you.”
“Here?” He tugged his ear and looked around. “On the clock?”
I shrugged. “Andre won’t notice unless someone hits the bell.”
He eased the boxes from my grip and grazed my fingertips with his calloused hands. “Let’s pray it’s a slow day, then.”
Damn. Were we really going to do this?
I wiped my palms on my jeans and breathed evenly. This was fine. It was fake. Practice, in fact. A favor for his next (real) girlfriend.
Zack set the boxes aside and flexed his neck. “How do you want me?” he asked.
Wrapped between my legs. Ramming me from behind with a firm grip on my hips. Ah, that was skipping a few steps and way inappropriate. First, we had to kiss.
I guided his hands to the small of my back. “I liked it when you held my waist. You could also grip my hips.”
“Okay.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, his dark gaze fixed on my face.
