She studies the space again. “Well, you could use a picture of yourself here or there.”
“Why would I want to look at a picture of myself?”
She shrugs. “You’re hot. Don’t you want to look at the beauty of your body?”
That makes me laugh. “Do you have pictures of yourself in your dorm?”
She nods. “With Ross. I also have some items from my childhood home that I brought with me. Little treasures I couldn’t part with.”
“Like what?”
“Like . . . a box full of Polaroid pictures from high school. My scrapbook. A few significant decorative items I had growing up that remind me of my childhood. Just simple things.”
“Anything really sentimental?” I ask.
She wipes her fingers on a napkin. “I have a blanket my grandma made for me. I keep it in my closet because it’s fragile, barely holding together. It provides zero warmth, but it’s always been with me, so I keep it close. On occasion, I bring it out and just look at the faded quilt blocks, running my fingers over the hand stitching.”
“Were you close to your grandma?” I ask.
“Yes, I was. My dad was always tough on me, and my mom didn’t have much to say. She was loving, but she let Dad take the lead on discipline and life in general. My grandma was the one I could go to and just hug. To escape the pressures from my dad.”
“When did she pass?”
“Right before I graduated from high school,” she answers. “I still don’t think I’ve fully recovered from losing her. A piece of me died with her. She was honestly the only person I’ve felt was 100 percent on my side. She was tough but so, so kind and helped me believe in myself. I’ve missed that over the past three years.” She lets out a soft sigh. “Anyway, she would have thought this whole arrangement was hilarious and would have encouraged it.” Ollie looks up at me. “And she would have loved you.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Oh yeah. She had a thing for guys with toned muscles. She would have hit on you for sure.”
That makes me laugh. “Your grandma’s type. Maybe that’s why you zeroed in on me at the bar. Runs in the family.”
“You were the only guy in the bar who was alone, that’s why I zeroed in on you, but it’s cute that you’re trying to make more sense of it.”
“Have you always been a ballbuster?” I ask her.
“Yes. It’s the reason I’ve only ever had one boyfriend, was never asked to prom, and why boys never tried to take me out. I was too much for them.”
“Seems like they missed out, then,” I say.
“Aw, look at you buttering me up.” She flips her ponytail over her shoulder. “No need to. I know they were all losers. Anyone I date needs to be manly enough to deal with my strong personality and all the intricacies that go with it. Yonny wasn’t that guy. It doesn’t make our breakup any less hurtful, but I know he wasn’t the one for me.”
“Strong personalities are sexy,” I say.
“This coming from a real man.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” she says, her eyes meeting mine. “See, look at us. We have all the potential to crush this fake dating thing. We have a mutual appreciation for one another. That’s the first step to a successful business relationship.”
“You think so?” I ask. Fuck, she’s entertaining.
“I know so.” She winks. “They’ll use us as the model couple. Just wait, you’ll see. Books will be written about us.”
Got to love her enthusiasm.
* * *
“What got you into working out?”I ask as I finish cleaning off the dining room table.
