Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
His eyebrows rise a little.
“I mean that affectionately. Kind of.”
“She travels a lot for work. It’s one of the things she loves about it.”
I sigh. “Answer me two questions honestly.”
“Okay.”
“One. Are you definitely, positively finished with her? There’s absolutely no chance you’re going to change your mind and go back to her, leaving me looking like an idiot?”
“We’re not getting back together.”
“Two. Can you promise me that no one will ever know about our fake dating pact, and we will separate in a month or so in a polite and civilized fashion?”
“Yes.”
I close my eyelids tight for a moment and take a deep breath. “This is probably a huge mistake. But fine, I’ll help you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Connor: My family wants to meet you.
Me: Sure. We can work up to that.
Connor: Tonight.
Me: WHAT
Connor: Is that a yes?
Me: Don’t you think we should do some prep work?
Connor: Like what?
Me: Learn more about each other and stuff.
Connor: I’m honestly not that complicated. Wait. Are you?
Me: Very funny.
Me: I just really feel like this would be throwing ourselves into the deep end.
Connor: Don’t worry, Riley. I won’t let you drown.
“I told you not to bring anything,” says Connor, climbing out of his vehicle. A shiny black vintage Mustang sitting at the curbside purring like a contented beast. The sound seems to vibrate right through me in the most interesting way. I’ve never particularly been into cars, but this one is special.
As for the man, he’s his usual handsome self. His blond hair is defying gravity, styled into a pompadour, and he’s wearing a black tee with matching jeans and boots. All black on him works. On a cover, he would be a vaguely dangerous hot dude hero. Though the danger would probably be only to your loins. My stomach keeps doing some weird dip at the sight of him. Like he’s too pretty for my peace of mind. But this is basically a business arrangement and crushing on my fake date would be wildly unprofessional. I must keep my thirst to myself.
“I am hardly going to turn up to a potluck with nothing,” I say. “Like an animal.”
He squints as if he’s thinking deep thoughts. “Do animals have potlucks?”
“Good question. If not, they’re seriously missing out.”
“Hmm.”
I smile and he doesn’t, but that’s okay. Because here I am living my best life. This whole scene is like something out of a movie. A cool evening breeze blows in off the water as streetlights flicker overhead. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. They’re cooking fish and chips across the road and it’s making my mouth water. Music drifts out through the open doors of the Lighthouse Bar and Grill, along with the chatter of patrons.
My dream of a small seaside town was pretty damn perfect. But somehow Port Stewart is managing to outperform.
Connor is still busy saying nothing. Not an auspicious start to our first fake date. I know he wants to speak because there’s a whole lot going on behind those blue eyes. But he keeps his mouth shut. Maybe in an overabundance of caution. A waste of time in my opinion, since we’re already sharing secrets. I stand on the sidewalk outside my apartment building and wait and watch as his tension builds and builds. It’s right there in the rigid set of his shoulders and the jut of his jaw.
“This is a good idea, right?” he asks eventually.
“I thought it was the only idea.”
He grunts.
“Having second thoughts?”
He gives me a long hard look, then shakes his head. Decision made. “Are you?”
“No. But I probably should have hit up Joyce for a cookie. The fake first date nerves are savage.”
I spent half an hour staring into the mirror this morning, perfecting my smile. A touch of anxiety and a heap of happiness—it’s what I believe a victim of love at first sight would be experiencing. Connor, however, doesn’t seem to have done any preparation. His expression could at best be described as perturbed.
A normal couple on a normal first date might kiss on the cheek or something. He almost takes a step toward me as if that’s his intention. But then he stops, and his gaze runs over me from head to toe. Taking in my carefully styled, wavy, pale blue hair, neutral makeup, sleeveless smocked pale blue midi dress, and strappy brown sandals.
“What do you think?” I ask in a quiet voice. “Am I girlfriend material?”
He swallows. “Ah. Yeah.”
“High praise.”
“Sorry.” He squeezes his eyelids shut for a moment before opening them again. “I mean…you look nice.”
“Thank you.” I smile. “You look nice too. How was your day?”
“Same as usual. What about you?”
“Eh. The words still aren’t flowing. I think the move unsettled my muse.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah.”
We are of course being watched, what with this being a public place in Port Stewart. A passing car honks its horn in greeting and Connor waves. Then a couple walks by on the other side of the street, holding hands and shooting us glances.