We’ve been talking since I got into the truck. “What?”
He takes a breath. Holds it. Then— “The physical stuff.”
I cough, my head cranking around in a way that betrays my surprise in no small way. Nothing contained or unflappable about it. The whole instilling-confidence-through-thoughtful-reserve thing I work for in the conference room? Not happening.
And worse, I can feel the heat pushing into my cheeks as I swallow hard.
Wade cuts me another look and, seeing my reaction, blanches. “Jesus, no! Don’t pull the eject handle,” he says in a rush. “I just didn’t want you to worry about it. I won’t be all over you.”
I sit back in my seat, letting go of that held breath with a sharp, “Wade.”
“I’m sorry, I was—hell, I was nervous about bringing it up.” He shakes his head. “Because I didn’t want to spook you or anything.”
I gape.
“I know,” he grumbles, but that same good humor remains in his eyes. “This is, in fact, my first rodeo when it comes to bringing fake girlfriends home.”
“Okay, then what exactly does ‘I won’t be all over you’ mean? You won’t be groping my breasts or shoving your tongue down my throat in front of your parents?” I guess I’d just assumed that much. But suddenly, talking about it seems like an excellent plan. “In fact, why don’t we clarify what you will do, just so there aren’t any surprises?”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Would you be okay with my arm around you? Not all the time, but like when we meet my parents and friends?”
His arm? “Your arm around me is fine.”
“I’ll try to go easy on the rest, but just kick me if I’m too much.”
The rest? “What are you normally like with the girls you date?”
His head wags back and forth. “First, I don’t date that many girls. I mean, date-date. Not just— Never mind.”
And there it is, a rosy spot high on his cheekbone. It’s kind of cute to see a big, tough hockey player embarrassed. “I think I get it.”
“Yeah, well, I’m the touchy type. I like to be close. I’m a hugger. When my girlfriend’s got pretty hair or a nice dress, I like to touch it. I like to hold hands. Kiss.” His brows pull together. “Not with tongue or anything, but— It doesn’t matter.”
“Right.” And suddenly I’m thinking about Davis, my college boyfriend. How I’d reached for his hand when he came to the house for dinner, and the look he’d given me made it plenty clear hand-holding wasn’t what he’d come for. Too bad for him, my father had blazed past him, phone at his ear, without so much as a second glance, and then closed himself into his office for the night. I didn’t invite Davis back.
“So the men I’ve dated aren’t generally like that. Not so outwardly affectionate, anyway. No PDA.” They greet me with a kiss on the cheek when they pick me up.
Except Craig, the man I dated for two months, who never actually kissed me. Ours was a polite parting, to say the least.
Wade nods. “Cool. No PDA.”
Only that subtle tightening around his eyes and mouth says not cool.
“Won’t people notice if you aren’t doing any of that? Not so much the kissing, but the other stuff.”
The sound he makes is noncommittal, but I’m already imagining friends and family I shouldn’t be concerned about speculating about the longevity of our relationship. Discussing how clearly not into me he is. How rigid I seem. And all the ways I must be lacking.
My competitive, goal-oriented side doesn’t like it.
Besides, the whole point of this week is for me to get a vacation from my reality.
“That’s very considerate, Wade. But you’ve gone to some lengths here to convince these people I’m something to you I’m not.”
This time the shift of his eyes toward me is slower. “I have.”
I go for a casual shrug, trying for the easy posture he always has. “So why chance failure by trying to be polite? We need to commit or why bother at all, right?”
He licks his lips. Opens his mouth and closes it again. Narrows his eyes on the road ahead and then on me, the corner of his mouth hitched the smallest degree. The suggestion’s not what he was expecting.
Wade flicks the signal for the next exit. “Let’s stop at the station up here.”
“For gas?” The indicator shows nearly a full tank.
“I’ll top her off, but maybe we just give it a trial run. See how it goes without an audience first, yeah? And if it doesn’t feel right, no sweat. Every relationship is different.”
I cough, straightening in my seat as heat flames up my neck and cheeks. “You—you don’t think I can pull it off?”
The shake of his head is slow. “That’s not what I said.”
“But?”
He laughs. “Put that little arched brow away. Just… hold on.” He flips the visor down and opens the vanity mirror in front of me. “What do you see?”
I look, taking inventory of the woman reflected there. Her arms are tightly crossed over her chest, lips pursed into a slight frown, and there’s a buckle between eyes that are narrowed like she’s studying a problem that needs to be broken down.
Honestly, I don’t spend that much time in front of a mirror beyond checking to ensure I’m putting a professional image out there. That even though I’m younger than most everyone I work with, I don’t come across like I am. And it’s somewhat startling to see how that carefully cultivated persona might not gel with… well, really any other situation at all.
Especially one where I’m supposed to be the love interest to some touchy jock.
After a breath, I gesture toward my reflection. “I see a woman who’s been a straight-A student since the sixth grade when that witch Mrs. Hall gave me a B-plus in art. A woman who performs under pressure and doesn’t crack. A quick study and someone who excels at every goal she commits to.” Every goal but one, that is.
I close my eyes. I see a woman who just wants to be someone else for a while.
Unraveling my arms, I smooth my features. Relax my mouth and—
“Are you seriously practicing smiling right now?”
I turn to Wade. “Just find the gas station. I’ve got this.”
This guy has no idea what I’m capable of.
Chapter 4
Wade
Harlow has an intensity about success that’s kind of scary, so no fucking way am I about to laugh at how she’s practicing loosening up her shoulders and going for what I’m guessing is supposed to be a more casual pose.
She’s not what I expected those few times I saw her at the bank.
Not by a long shot.
And yeah, I’m sort of thinking the fam isn’t going to take this thing with a woman so different than any they’ve seen me with before as seriously as I’d like. Which is a bummer, because it would have been nice to ride this fake relationship well into next year. But even if we’re nothing more than a ten-day wonder, it’ll be enough to let me enjoy being home with my brother.
For now, though, it’s time to see what exactly we’re working with.