Rolling my eyes, I groan. “No, Alexa, I don’t. I want you to actually answer a question correctly.”
“I can answer a range of questions, such as the size of the universe and what wine goes best with pasta,” she says, as Thor leaps on the bathroom vanity, skids across the marble, and whacks my beard brush into the sink with athunk.
I swing my gaze to the dastardly cat. “Are you kidding me?”
“I would suggest a Merlot,” Alexa puts in, oblivious to the mess my cat is making of the sink.
Thor doesn’t care either. He’s more disturbed that my hair is on his precious cat paw, and he’s fastidiously cleansing it of all human contact.
“Stand down, Alexa. I’ll do it myself.”
After I finish trimming my beard, I tap some options into my phone and—yes. That one. That’ll be perfect for Remy. I’ll ask her to go next weekend in between games. I’ll pack a picnic of her favorites. I’ll bring a new jigsaw puzzle and a card game. And maybe we can go sex toy shopping for another date. Then I can take her to the succulent gardens for another.
Damn, I’m brilliant. I’ve got three dates planned.
All this training as a fake boyfriend is going to make me an excellent real one.
I pat some cologne onto my face, then grab the suit Remy picked out for me and put it on so I can meet her shortly at the hotel at the Presidio, where she’s helping her sister get ready.
She doesn’t need me to pick her up, of course, since she’s been busy all morning doing…whatever maids of honor do.
I head downstairs, my cat following, then racing ahead of me, to trip me at the bottom of the stairs, I expect.
No, to hide around the corner and stick out a paw.
But I evade the little stinker, turning into the kitchen to find my dad making a sandwich. A gourmet one by the looks of it, with avocado, some kind of artichoke spread, and then—I squint—is that fake meat?
“Dad, are you eating fake meat?”
He turns around, flashing a clever grin. “I’m trying this plant-based bologna. Remy recommended it.”
“When were you and Remy chatting about fake meat?”
“After the shower, when you were helping your brother.” Right, she mentioned when we left that they talked aboutJumbotron-gate.“Fake meat, Jumbotrons, the dog she wants to adopt,” he says, then smiles. “She’s a good one, son.”
Something softens in me even more. I’m grateful he sees it too. Glad he’s enchanted, in his way, with the woman who’s captured my scarred heart.
I won’t need to break his heart again either.
If, buddy.
My chest clenches with an unwelcome tightness. Don’t assume the final score. It’s big to ask her to date me for real. She might need more time. She might want to be alone. She might not feel the same way I do, and I’ve got to be able to handle that.
But I handle fearsome defenders on the ice, and I won’t back down from this either.
“I hope you enjoy it,” I say, then ruffle his hair. “I should head to the wedding.”
And I hope this won’t be the last time he thinks I’m going to see her.
“Have fun. Take some more pics. That was a nice one at the game last night,” he remarks.
I turn around, arching a brow in question. “What was?”
“Picture of the two of you at the boards. Someone there took it, and it looks like it wound up on her sister’s feed too.”
“Aren’t you just a social media bug today?”
“Nah. Not me. Gavin and Mira showed it to me.”
