“Did you have one for your wedding?” I ask, gripped with the curiosity to understand his past more.
He shakes his head. “No. It felt weird to ask people to give me gifts when I’d just gotten a good contract with the pros.”
“I hear you,” I say, liking that he was thoughtful.
“It was a pretty simple wedding too. I’m not that into…”
“Appearances?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Yeah. Some people would say I’m an asocial grump.”
I laugh. “Are you some people?”
“You know, I think I am,” he says, a little evilly, like he’s embracing this side of himself. “You’re the opposite though.”
He’s not wrong. “I’m definitely social. I like groups, like this,” I say, feeling calm and centered as I survey the scene—friends mingling, people laughing, guests admiring the blue herons and the bride and groom. It’s a serene setting here in the meadow, a stream gurgling, the blue sky stretching as far as the eye can see. “I’m glad we pulled this off, thanks to you.”
“All I did was say yes. You did this, beautiful. This is all you. Your idea, your planning. You made it happen.”
I stand a little taller, loving the praise. “It was fun. Like a puzzle,” I say.
He wraps his arm tighter around me, takes a beat, then clears his throat, waving to the crowd here. “Would you…want one like this?”
The question comes out so earnestly, a man trying to understand a woman. It makes my heart squeeze.
“I definitely don’t want household gadgets, new or gently used. I don’t really cook much anyway,” I say, and briefly wonder if it’s too much to bring up a future wedding shower with a man I’m fake dating and real flinging with. But I found the courage to talk to his sister last night and tell her the truth. In for a penny…“I think I’d do a volunteer shower—where you ask your friends to do a beach cleanup with you, or plant some trees, or walk dogs together at the local shelter.”
Lake’s smile is soft, thoughtful. “That’s very you.”
“Why do you say that?”
He meets my gaze. “Plants, dogs, the earth. They’re kind of your things.”
I glance around at his bird sanctuary, where an owl watches over from the owl box and where wood ducks and black-crowned night herons splash in the stream. I nudge him with my elbow. “Same to you.”
He lifts a brow, teasingly. “ButI wouldn’t want a spa day.”
“Yes, I’m well aware,” I say dryly. “And I swear you engineered tomorrow’s game so you don’t have to go to it.”
“I was looking forward to seeing you in a cute little bikini,” he jokes.
“Did you think I was wearing a bikini at a spa?”
“More like hoping.”
“Try bathrobe.”
He makes a show of peering at my breasts, like he would if I were wearing a robe. “I can work with a robe.”
I lift my chin. “You don’t get to see either. You’ll be too busy napping before the game.”
“And missing you as I nap,” he adds, so easily, so casually that my cells feel a little fizzy.
Since he’s being so direct with me, I choose to do the same with him. Maybe I’m on a kick today. “I saw your sister last night. I told her we were…”
“Fucking like the world is on fire?”
A laugh bursts from me. “Lake!”
