I clear my throat and scroll down the document. “I just have a few other very simple things left,” I lie, hurriedly shortening the list in my head. “A—we need to be convincing. If that means some sizzling PDA here and there, I’m fine with it as long as you are.”
Pausing, I look to him for confirmation and he gives a thoughtful nod. I wish he’d take off his sunglasses so I can see his eyes. Besides being the proverbial window to the soul, they’re also the key to what he’s really thinking in that head of his.
“And—once our relationship inevitably gets leaked online, we need to be pretty public with seeing each other,” I continue. “That means you showing up in G&G Instagram posts and videos, me going to rugby things, and us having at least two dates a week where we can be spotted.”
“Simple enough,” agrees Boone without hesitation. “Anything else?”
“Well…” I hesitate, chewing on my lower lip for a second. “There’s one more rule. We’re in this fake relationship to protect ourselves—me from creeps and you from fangirls. We’re not in this to get hurt, so I think it’s best if we keep feelings out of the mix entirely.”
He considers that. “So, if we develop feelings for anyone else—or for each other—it’s time to call it quits?”
It’s my turn to hesitate. “Sounds sensible,” I finally murmur.
“All the benefits, none of the drama. That’s how we’ll roll,” he says. “Right, darlin’?”
When I nod in agreement, he nods as well, then rubs his stubble-covered jaw, his sunglass-covered gaze wandering toward the beach. A few gullscawand swoop down toward where someone dropped their fries earlier. He watches them peck at the fallen food for a few minutes before turning his attention back to me. Pushing his sunglasses up on his head, he rests his forearms on the table and leans forward. His eyes collide with mine so abruptly that it makes my heart lurch in my chest.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” he states firmly. A slow grin spreads across his handsome face, his eyes gleaming in the sunlight pouring in through the open windows of the small burger shack. There’s a mischievous glint in his gaze that has my stomach doing flip-flops. “Now how about we get people really talking?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Boone’s large hand stretches toward me across the table. I gaze down at the lines of his palm, the skin calloused from years of playing rugby, and wonder just what he has in mind.
“What do you think, darlin’?” he asks in his velvety smooth southern drawl.
“I think I’m always down for a show,” I say with a smile, placing my hand firmly over his.
He chuckles and tosses a few bucks down onto the table for the mozzarella sticks even though Franco gave them to us for free, then puts his sunglasses back on and leaps up, leading me out of the restaurant and toward the beach.
The ocean breeze billows in from the coast, whipping my cardigan around my thighs. When I squirm out of the oversized sweater and scrunch it underneath one of my arms, Boone takes it from me and flings it over his shoulder. The cardigan flaps in the balmy air as Boone leads me down the beach. We walk side-by-side and hand-in-hand.
“What are we doing out here?” I call over the gusting, salty wind, grabbing my red headband to keep it from flying off my head.
Before Boone can answer, a rogue wave suddenly rushes up the beach, sending seagulls flying and crabs scuttling across the sand. The water washes over our feet, soaking both of our shoes before we even have a chance to make a run for it. I leap over the next rolling wave, trying to escape with at least some part of my clothes dry, but the water is faster than I am. Laughing, Boone sweeps me up into his arms and carries me further inland until we’ve escaped the fast tide.
He gently sets me back on my feet, but keeps his arm around my waist as we continue to stroll along the beach.
“Where are we going?” I ask curiously, slightly breathless from running away from the waves.
I know it isn’t toward our cars because we’d left both of them back at Franco’s.
Smirking faintly, he tugs off his sunglasses and puts them on his head again. Our disguises are vanishing piece by piece.
“Just for a romantic stroll,” he explains, tightening his arm around my waist and drawing me against him as we continue to meander across the sand. “I think today is the perfect day to make our debut. Don’t you?”
I grin happily. Boone might be charming and chivalrous—not to mention more good looking than any man has a right to be—but he has a flair for theatrics that speaks right to my heart. We’re starting to get closer to the throngs of people enjoying the beach on this sunny afternoon, and I can tell exactly what Boone is plotting. One of these people is bound to either be a Glammer or a Coyotes fan. At some point, someone is going to notice us together. We’re too sexy not to draw attention, after all.
But just in case, I decide to take things up a notch.
Lightly grabbing the headband that Liv helped me fashion to conceal my hair, I tug it off in one effortless move. My long, dark hair flows free of its restraint, the dark tresses rippling in the wind and tumbling over my shoulders. Boone’s molten gaze momentarily caresses me as he admires the view. I can’t blame him for that. I know how gorgeous I am—just as I know how gorgeous he is. That’s how I know my fans are going to go wild when they see us together.
“We should act like we’re having an intense conversation or something,” I suggest. “Not, like, intense bad, but intense good.” I grin. “Like we’re really into each other.”
Boone lets out another chuckle. “Why act like we’re having a conversation when you can really have one? Not everything needs to be faked, darlin’, you know?”
Darlin’.
The adorable way that word fits his lips makes my heart skip a beat. I’d listen to him read a dictionary simply so I could hear how every word sings from his sweet southern tongue.
