Page 46 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

“I’m not sure what’s more impressive, the Juilliard-level dancing or that you painted a wolf on your chest with glow-in-the-dark paint for the finale.” While mostly naked.

Nathan works his tongue over a triple-decker ice cream cone. I should be savoring my one scoop, but I’m focused on the way his tongue aggressively wraps around the melting cream.

“It’s all about branding.” He taps the baseball hat on my head. A wolf paw print is embroidered on the cap.

“Did you go to school for dance?”

“Marketing. My grandmother is a dance instructor. I grew up helping run her studio and teaching the kids. I still go in to help from time to time. In fact, I was just there.”

My heart clenches as I imagine this hulk of a man teaching tiny ballerinas. He’s got a soft spot.

“How did you go from teaching to stripping?”

“A mean boss fired me from my lucrative Italian beef-stand job in college. My grandmother depended on me to help keep things afloat. We got in a serious bind, and I needed quick cash. So, I started stripping.”

“Roman’s responsible for your decent into debauchery?” I joke.

“I still hold a grudge.”

“I couldn’t tell.” I laugh. A full picture of Nathan is forming. I point. “You’re losing your ice cream.”

He quickly licks the massive drip.

I stop in my tracks to observe as he systematically saves all the drips in such a precise way, my mind blanks.

“You okay?” he asks.

“What? Yeah.” I quickly recover with a shake of my head.

Somewhere along the way, I became distracted. As if Nathan is a car speeding down the dark road, and I’m a baby deer and about to get plowed.

Being plowed by Nathan in a good way flashes before my eyes. A grin creeps over my lips.

“After experiencing your fandom tonight, Sophia’s bachelorette party job seems beneath you,” I say, getting back on track.

“I did it as a favor for my agent, Natasha. The timing worked out with the Miami show.”

“Right. Am I the only woman in existence who didn’t know who you are?” I glance over, still trying to place his face.

“What I do is very niche. Though, when we met in the elevator, I thought you dropped your towel on purpose.”

“And I thought that moment couldn’t be more embarrassing.”

“When Roman showed up, I started to piece things together. You were a wreck.”

“He has a way of doing that to me.” I chuckle darkly.

“Why?”

We toss our wrappers into the trash as I consider my answer.

“I’ve spent a lifetime trying to make him happy, and I guess it’s difficult to turn off.” As I say the words I start to realize my attachment to Roman is deeply flawed.

“I like that you didn’t know me. It’s nice to be normal,” Nathan says.

“This is normal?” I wave a hand between us.

“If you don’t count the fake relationship, the wedding sabotage, and the triple-X but charming way we met—sure,” he teases.