I can only imagine how he’ll react to myotherproposal.
I wonder if he’ll be a little less cute, and a little more feral.
Heat sparks between my legs, and I push myself back on topic.
“My parents can be … a little much to handle sometimes. They’ll probably give you the third degree all dinner long. No hard feelings if you want to back out.”
“Back out? Of being your boyfriend?” He scoffs. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, I apologize in advance for whatever they put you through.”
“I get to pretend to be your boyfriend for an entire evening. As long as they don’t shoot me above the knee, no apologies necessary.”
I huff a laugh, rolling my eyes at his ridiculousness. “So you wouldn’t even expect an apology if they shot you in the foot?”
“Right.” He doesn’t miss a beat.
“I’m worried you’re not joking.”
He grins. “Me, too.”
I walk him through the story we’re going to sell to my parents. It’s nothing too outlandish. We just started talking since he was a regular customer, he asked me out one day, and we clicked. Simple and believable.
Well, maybe me casually chatting with a regular customer isn’t that believable. But it’s more believable than any other fake scenario I could come up with.
Jamie nods. There’s a seriousness in his expression that’s a bit touching. It’s how I imagine he looks when he’s studying his hockey playbook and committing it to memory … if hockey players have playbooks. I don’t really know how it works, to be honest.
He wants this to work out for me, and he’s taking his role seriously.
It probably reflects badly on me that, even as I’m recognizing this, an urge to tease him pokes at me.
“Too bad we won’t be able to really sell it,” I say, pretending to sigh.
Jamie’s lips tilt. “What do you mean? Why not?”
“I mean …” I think about backing off from this taunt, but mischief tips into me, and I decide to go for it, “that we won’t be able to kiss. Obviously.”
Jamie’s brow lowers. “Obviously?”
“Sure,” I say, casually lifting a shoulder. “I mean, your first kiss can’t be fake, right?”
I should feel bad teasing Jamie like this, considering what he’s doing for me, but I can’t help it. I just want to see those cheeks of his flush pink.
But that doesn’t happen. Instead, a wry look comes to his eyes, and he smirks.
“I’ve kissed girls before, Carmen.”
That fact doesn’t surprise me. Just because he hasn’t had sex doesn’t mean he hasn’t kissed. But the low, confident rumble of his voice does surprise me.
I expected him to get cutely flustered like he often does. I didn’t expect his green eyes to start smoldering like emeralds in a fire. I didn’t expect his voice to turn into a gravelly rasp. And Idefinitely didn’t expect him to take a big step toward me, eating up the distance between us and filling my senses with his sheer physical presence.
I swallow hard.
“Believe it or not,” he says, his voice lowered to almost a growl, “I’m pretty damn good at it.”
22
JAMIE
