There’s an appeal to feeling like you’re a part of a whole instead of knowing you’re just another satellite orbiting an entity bigger than yourself.
But what I’m a part of here isn’t real. And no matter how nice having Grace Grady fuss over me feels or how welcoming his family is… none of it is mine.
“Sorry, Sport. You’re a good guy, but I’ve penciled in a fake breakup for about a week before your next trip home.”
“Doomed from the start.” His smile grows wider. “But we’ll always have Enderson?”
This guy is too much. “Yes, we’ll always have Enderson.”
His eyes linger on mine before finally shifting away… and freezing. “Oh, hey, Kels.”
She’s standing in the doorway I walked through only the moment before. I quickly replay our exchange, inwardly cringing. Even if she heard, it might sound like nonsense. A couple teasing each other, nothing more.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Her hands flutter to her chest. “I was just thinking it’s getting awfully late. Why don’t you let me make up the couch for Harlow so you don’t have to drive?”
Wade catches my hand in the firm grasp of his, pulling me in front of him and doing that thing where our fingers are still threaded together when he wraps his arms around me from behind. “Thanks for the offer, but we’re good. I haven’t been drinking and it’s less than ten minutes to the hotel.”
“But the roads are dark, and you haven’t been home in a while and—”
“I’m fine, Kelsey,” he says, his tone hard.
She gives him a short nod but somehow manages to avoid meeting my eyes even once. It’s not exactly a snub, but real or not, it feels weird to be on the receiving end of a stranger’s animosity.
After finding Wade’s parents to say good night, we make our way out front. Wade holds my hand the whole way.
“Almost done.” When we get to the truck, he doesn’t open the door. “Remember how I said it would look like I was kissing you when we first got here?”
“I remember.”
Wade draws me in front of him, positioning me so I’m resting against the cool metal.
Pushing to my toes, I try to peek past his shoulder. He’s too tall. Too broad. “Do you think she’s watching?”
“I know she is.” With a short laugh, he angles his body, giving me a quick glimpse of the house before moving back into my space. It was just long enough to see the silhouette of a woman at the window.
“I feel bad for her but, Wade, that’s kind of creepy.”
“Try waking up to her slipping into your bed. Naked. And I’m not talking about back in high school.”
“What? Here?” I try to peek past him again, only this time it’s outrage more than curiosity.
He shakes his head, nudging me back against the truck. “You see why I needed the date?”
“I guess I do. But, Wade, that’s not okay. Did you tell your mom?”
The smacked expression on his face is… I don’t even know what to make of it.
“Seriously, the fact that you think I’m tattling to my mother—” He rubs a big hand over his jaw. “Where did I go wrong with you? Was it something I said? Something I did? My shirt, my hair?”
“What?” My hands fly up between us. “Grace just seems like a really good mom. And she’s the one who invited Kelsey to move in. I don’t know.”
“I was twenty-four years old!” He’s half yelling at me, half laughing, and I can’t tear my eyes away from that openmouthed smile. His head drops forward for a beat. “Harlow, I’ve never met a woman so completely underwhelmed by me. And I know this whole ‘body business’ doesn’t do it for you, but what the heck? Pro-athlete. Graduated with honors from a well-respected school—and because I know you’re thinking, as an athlete, I didn’t have to earn those grades the way the real students did, let me tell you you’re wrong. I busted my ass for every one.”
I believe him.
I might have been harboring some unfair stereotypes about jocks when we met, but it didn’t take more than one conversation to set me straight. This is a man who tries.
Though why he tries so hard with me, I don’t know.
“What do you care what I think, anyway?”
He considers and then gives me an easy shrug. “Don’t know. But I do.”
That easy admission warms my chest more than it probably should, and I don’t quite know how to respond, so I circle back to the issue at hand.
“Kelsey. Assuming she’s still watching—” Again I go for a peek, and again Wade reins me back in.
“Trust me. She is.”
“Okay, so what do I do here?”
He stares at me through the darkness. “Maybe put your hands on my shoulders or, hell, you don’t have to do anything, really. Just let me lean into your personal space for a minute, if that’s okay.”
My hands move to his shoulders, resting lightly over the hard, layered muscles. “It is.”
Then, slowly, he lowers his head, bringing his brow to touch mine as he gently cups my cheek.
Staring up into the shadows of his face while he’s touching me feels different. And even though we’ve been faking our way through this whole day, right now I feel inexplicably nervous.
“That’s a nice touch with your hand.”
Another short laugh, but this one is warm against my cheek. “My grandma used to watch soaps when I was a kid. I remember her saying the actors put their hands up like that so you couldn’t see if they were really kissing.”
This time the laugh is mine, and I pull back to meet his eyes. “You’re soap-opera kissing me?”
“Only a little.” He winks, that panty-melting smile flashing through the darkness. “If I were giving you the serious soap treatment, it would be hands roaming all over the PG parts of your body. Lots of back, arms, neck, and hair.”
“Wade… are you sure it was your grandma watching?”
“Sorry, Good Girl,” he murmurs so close to my ear, chills streak down my skin. “That information is above your paygrade.”
“Mmm… saving the good stuff for a real girlfriend. I see how it is.”
Wade starts to step back, an affectionate smile on his face when I catch him by the shirt and pull him back in for one more fake kiss. “Like we can’t quite get enough, right?”
He grins down at me. “You’re a pretty great fake date, Harlow.”
“Told you I would be.”
“Yeah, you did. Let’s get back to the hotel.”
Chapter 8
Wade
It’s barely after six and I’m pretty sure my back is never going to forgive me if I don’t get out of this crappy pull-out bed. Not the best night’s sleep ever, and I’m kicking myself for not making plans before we knocked off. We aren’t due back at my parents’ until lunch, but I have no idea what that means for the woman in the next room.
If she’s the kind to sleep in, I feel like I owe it to her to let her.
That said, the quarter-inch I moved had the springs groaning beneath me. Shit.