Just have to remember, this can’t ever be real, and that means making sure she knows it’s all for show.
When she pulls up at the restaurant where we’re having dinner tonight, I walk over to her car, mentally preparing myself for seeing her dressed up. I open her door and have to choke back a frustrated laugh.
Gone is the sexy-girl-next-door look from yesterday. We’re back to frumpy librarian, it seems.
“Hey,” I say, intentionally leaving off theSpecs. She says she doesn’t like it, but I see the way her eyes flare when I say it, and I call bullshit. Sure enough, her pert lips tip down ever so slightly. She steps out of her car and her hands twist around the strap of her bag.
“Hi.”
The dress she’s wearing swallows her whole. Those luscious curves are hidden under way too much fabric. The glasses are back in place, as is the bun.
We walk to the front of the restaurant without saying anything else. It’s awkward, just like yesterday, and Colin’s voice is in my head, reminding me to do better. I reach to open the door, my hand falling to her lower back as we walk inside. It’s easy for him to saydo better, he’s at least been in a relationship or two. Me, I’ve got no fucking clue how to act on a goddamn date, even if it is all just pretend.
“Have you eaten here before?” Sadie asks in a nervous whisper as we’re guided to our table. I’m guessing she’s noticed the furtive looks we’re getting from other patrons, and the way we’re seated by the front window is intentional on Colin’s part. I hold her chair out, and once she’s seated, I take my own seat and answer her. “No. Colin booked it. Something about this being the hot place to be seen.”
“That’s such a weird concept. Planning where to eat based on visibility.”
“Welcome to public relations, I guess. It’s all a fucking game.” My wry response has her tilting her head to the side and I brace myself for the incoming questions.
“You don’t like the media attention, I’m guessing.”
There’s no judgment in her tone, and I find myself wanting to answer as honestly as I can.
“The press has a habit of being particularly shitty with how they spin things. I think they give us all an identity that meets their needs, no matter how far off base it is. I got the label of being the bad boy because I didn’t want to cooperate with their bullshit. So, no. I don’t like the media. But it’s a necessary evil.”
I can see her fighting back a smile, which doesn’t make sense since none of what I just said was funny. “What?” I ask gruffly.
“It’s just, I think that’s the most words you’ve ever said to me at one time.” Now her smile breaks free as she giggles, and to my surprise, I feel my own mouth curving up in response.
“Don’t get used to it, Specs.”
Her eyes are dancing, and fuck, she’s pretty. Even in that god-awful dress. There’s something about her that shines no matter what she’s wearing. And goddamn it, I grudgingly admit, I like seeing her smile.
The moment is broken by the arrival of a waiter. And as soon as her eyes aren’t on me, I miss them. That’s fucking dangerous. I inhale deeply, taking the minute while she’s placing her order to remind myself, I can’t let the lines be blurred. No matter what. I have to play the part of infatuated boyfriend, but I have to make it damn clear she knows that’s not reality.
The waiter leaves, and Sadie leans forward. “You know, if we’re going to pull this off, it would really help if I knew some more about you. Like, now I know you hate the press. What else is there to Maverick King?”
Mentally, I groan. I don’t want to get to know her, and I sure as shit don’t want her to get to know me. But once again, I hear my brother lecturing me about being believable. Which means I can’t be silent the entire meal.
“What do you want to know?”
Sadie looks pleased by my question, as she should. Little minx is getting her way. “We could start with the basics. What’s your favourite food?”
“Burgers.”
“Okay, favourite place to visit?”
“Don’t know.”
Her lips turn down in a slight frown. “You’ve never gone on vacation?”
I lift my good shoulder in a shrug. “Nope.”
She lets out a frustrated huff. “Do you always answer your date’s questions in one-word answers?”
“Don’t knowis two words,” I fire back, and she purses her lips, trying to hide a smile.
“Fine.”
