She browses the options for a minute, and I manage to hold my tongue long enough to let her decide what she wants. The waitress comes over and I order whatever comes into my head first, a chicken bacon avocado club sandwich and a black coffee.
“I’ll have a Caesar salad and a large iced maple hazelnut latte with cinnamon cold foam, please,” Cara asks, giving the waitress a friendly smile as she notes down our requests, repeating those final words, dragging them out aloud with her eyebrows raised,cinnamon —pause—cold—pause—foam, then walks away.
All the questions I had prepared in my mind escape me as I try to process her coffee order. “An iced maple nut cinnamonwhat?”I parrot, looking at her with utter confusion.
Cara just pins me with a smile almost as sweet as her drink must be. “Aniced maple hazelnut latte with cinnamon cold foam,” she repeats, emphasizing every word. When she takes in the scrunch of my nose, she rolls her eyes. “Just because I like drinks that actually taste good and not a bland and bitter black coffee?—”
“You’re talking about ordering things because they taste good, and yet you ordered asalad,” I point out, already addicted to teasing her like this. She’s so expressive, so responsive, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s just as responsive in bed.
Shit, Jake, don’t think about her in bed!
I try to subtly adjust myself beneath the table, my cock fully hard at that image in my mind.
“Salad is delicious,” she counters, shaking her head. “Besides, you ordered chicken and avocado in your sandwich, the same ingredients that are in my salad.”
I incline my head towards her. “That’s because I’m on a very strict diet to be in the best shape possible for playoffs and the team’s Doc might actually have my head if I ordered whatever I wanted,” I tell her. “That’s what off-season’s for.”
The waitress returns with our order, placing our drinks and food down on the table. Cara pulls her glass towards her and takes a long sip through the straw, her cheeks hollowing. I shift in my seat and take a far too hot sip of dark coffee to distract myself.
Cara’s lips quirk up on one side. “Tell you what,” she says, leaning closer to me over the table top. “When we go out for lunch in the off-season, I’ll try your real order, and you have to try my much superior coffee.”
“Oh, so there’ll be another date?” I grin, loving the way she blushes when she realizes what she’s said. “I see my plan is going well already.”
“Plan?” she questions.
I nod. “To make you realize that whatever we have, whatever this thing is between us that I know you can feel, is far from fake.”
Cara swallows. “This is just a convenient arrangement,” she stammers out, looking down at her salad as she aggressively stabs lettuce with her fork. “That’s all.”
I watch as she takes a bite, raising a brow when she finally looks up at me again.
“Sure, princess,” I murmur. “Whatever you want to think.”
But I see it in her eyes, the truth I’ve already accepted.
This is far from fake.
And one night together at her sister’s wedding will never be enough.
3
CARA
My sister looks beautiful.
Seriously, she’s like a bride out of a wedding catalog, her hair in loose curls falling down her back, soft makeup highlighting her features, and a silk dress with a train longer than I am tall.
“You look like a princess,” I gush, giving her a hug.
Carly smiles, holding me close. “Thank you.”
“This is going to be the best wedding ever,” I tell her, pushing down the rising feeling of panic flowing through my veins. Twenty minutes ago, Jake texted me that he had arrived, and the thought of him downstairs mingling with the other guests while they get seated in the ceremonial room is giving me hives. What if he forgets the story we went over? What if someone makes a scene because they recognize him from his job or the headlines? What if?—
“…so excited to meet this man you’ve brought,” my mom’s saying, yanking me from my internal spiral.
I grab my half-empty glass of champagne from the dressing table and drain the golden liquid. A bubble gets caught in my throat, and I cough, cringing.
“Yup, yeah, uh-huh,” I stammer, feeling my face flush red. I turn away, fussing with the strap of my dress just for something to do. “I’m excited for everyone to meet him, too.”
