Her jaw slipped open. “You’re joking.”
“Nope. It’s part of the whole honeymoon retreat experience.” He held his mug wide in mock enthusiasm. Therapy sounded about as much fun as ripping out his own toenails with a salad fork.
She gave him a look that would wither a lesser man’s balls.
He ignored it. Not like he was particularly looking forward to dodging questions in a group setting, but if they didn’t show up it might raise questions. The group sessions were part of the entire Twin Lakes honeymoon experience. “It won’t be that bad. We’ll tell them we’re private people.”
“You think that’s going to work?”
He didn’t have a lot of experience with therapists, but he had a feeling there was no way in hell his plan was going to work. “Nope.”
“We should get our stories straight then. I told Sarah you’re a landscaper and I’m your receptionist.” She kept her eyes on her coffee.
Landscaper? He couldn’t keep a potted plant alive. He had, however, once managed to keep a cactus from decomposing for about six months. “You told her I’m a landscaper?”
“You know, lawn installation and stuff.” She shrugged. The neck of her T-shirt slipped down her shoulder the barest of centimeters. Still, it was enough to make his pulse beat louder in his ears.
“Luce, I know what a landscaper does. Why on earth wouldn’t you tell her I’m a businessman?”
She bit at her bottom lip, her teeth dipping into the flesh there. “I was working on the fly. We really should’ve discussed this before we got here.”
He placed his mug on the table. “First rule of telling lies, keep them as close to the truth as possible. That way they’re easier to keep track of. But, for now, fine. I’m a landscaper. You’re my receptionist. How many pretend future kids do you want?”
She gave him some serious side eye. “Uh…none.”
“None? At all?” His foot dropped to the floor. The small thud matching the way his heart plunked to the bottom of his ribs.
“Nope.”
“That’s not going to work for me. We’ve got to have at least one.”
“Fine. I’ll haveonepretend child with you.”
“You sure you don’t want two? Being an only pretend kid isn’t any fun.”
She thinned her lips and shook her head. “I’m putting my pretend foot down.”
“Alrighty then. We have professions. Family aspirations. Anything else?”
“How long have we known each other?” she asked.
“Five years.” Seemed like a reasonable amount of time. Not that he had much of a track record to go from.
“That’s kind of a long time.” Her forehead pinched, and his fingertips itched to smooth those lines.
“Five months?” he countered.
She grimaced. “You think that’s long enough?”
“If we tell them five months then at least it’ll make sense when we don’t know anything about each other,” he pointed out, scooting his chair closer to hers so their knees nearly bumped.
“Five months ago, you hired me at your landscaping business.”
“And then you were all over me.”
She sat taller and crossed her legs, bumping his knee with her own and quickly pulling back. “I was not.”
“Okay. I was all over you. It was love at first sight.” Not far from the truth—not that he was in love with her. Serious lust, maybe.
