Page 95 of Flirting with 40

“Ed?” Slade chuckles as he moves toward him. “What in the hell are you doing out here?”

“Hey, guys.” He holds up his free hand in greeting. “Just taking a shortcut here over to a new hot spot I found when I guess I scared the bejesus out of that girl you were talking there with.” He lifts his chin in the direction of where Heather and the rest of them went.

“You let us think you were a bear,” I say around a laugh.

“Yeah, well, she wasn’t being too nice to you, so I figured she deserved a little scare to knock some sense into her.” He shrugs. “A little fear never hurt no one.”

“Ed,” Slade says and laughs, shaking his head in disbelief, “the world needs more men like you.”

“Maybe so,” he says, “but this one needs to get some fishing in before the sun moves behind the hills.” He starts shuffling his feet. “You two have a good rest of the day now.”

“Thanks. Good luck,” Slade says.

“Don’t need it, but thanks.” His laughter filters back through as we both stand and stare at the direction he went.

“Did that really just happen?” I ask.

“Yes, it did.” He snorts. “Fucking, Ed.”

“I’m glad to know there really wasn’t a bear, but I’m happy to know I didn’t act like an idiot either.”

“True.” Slade reaches out and links his fingers with mine. “Does Heather understand you just took the hit so she can save face?”

“I think she does.”

“Why would you do that after everything she’s done to you?”

“Sometimes, you have to be the bigger person to spark the change, and other times, you simply have to play the game.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “Is that right?”

“There’s more than one way to howl at the moon, Henderson.” I take a step away from him but don’t drop his hand. “Someone pretty awesome taught me that.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Blakely

“You cold?”

“No.”

This is right where I want to be—on the dock, toes in the water, Slade’s arm wrapped around me, and with the moon high above.

“I still can’t believe we won that stupid game.” He laughs and shakes his head.

“How did we guess all of those things right about each other?” I think of the silly questions tonight in our Glam version of the old game show testing contestants’ knowledge about their newly married spouse.

What’s your ideal date night?

What do you wear to bed?

What food do you hate?

“We’re the ones pretending, and we beat everyone who wasn’t.”

I laugh softly at his words while they sting at the same time. Because he’s right, we are pretending.

Or maybe we were pretending, and I forgot about that. I got caught up in how so damn easy everything is between us—the talking, the playing, the sex—that I forgot we were, in fact, faking it.