“What I thought we could do is this: I’ll go with you to the weddings as your fake date, and you can go with me to visit some of the pubs I want to check out. You can be my reality check, if you will. I also want to make sure the ideas I have are authentic, so I want to test them on you. I was hoping we could even start in the next day or so? Perhaps Tuesday?”
“I’m there.”
“Perfect. Now tell me about the weddings you want me to go to.”
I review the details, rattling off the basics of Chip’s ceremony, then the one for Enzo from Spain, who hired me since he’s new to the country and doesn’t know anyone yet, and another where I’m simply an extra groomsman, and I’ve been asked to play the part with an Aussie accent, for no other reason than the groom finds Crocodile Dundee entertaining. The groom is a superstar skateboarder in the X Games, and I tell her my friend Josh recommended me.
“Your sports agent friend?”
“Yes. Josh Summers. Reps a couple of the Yankees, some of the Rangers, and on and on. You’d like him; therefore, I will probably never introduce you to him.”
Laughing softly, she gives me a curious stare. “Why would I like him?”
“All the women do.”
“So all women everywhere have the same taste?”
I tap my chin. “Fair point. Your taste is finer. After all, you did enjoy the ride on my—”
Her hand covers my mouth. “Be. Good.” She nudges my elbow. “So . . . when do I meet this hot sports agent friend of yours?”
I narrow my eyes, huffing. “Never. Also, I don’t actually need a date for the skateboarder’s wedding. It’s a solo gig.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Positive. And for that comment, you will never meet Josh.”
She rubs her palms together. “And you will never get to see Presley, then. She’s stunning and brilliant and hilarious. So there. I’m keeping her away from you too.”
I roll my eyes. “You do know I’ve met her several times. She comes to jujitsu with us now and then, and yes, she’s quite funny.”
“Then you’re not allowed to speak with her again.”
“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“Ha. Same to you. But enough about hot friends. About the two weddings you need me for . . . I presume we’ll need backstories and fake names? A different one for each?”
I make a low whistle of appreciation. “Damn, you’re good. Is there a name you’ve always wanted to have?”
She adopts a high, saccharine tone. “Oh, God. I love the name Truly.” Her voice returns to dry and sarcastic. “It’s not as if I was always made fun of for my name growing up.”
“Were you made fun of for that? It’s a lovely name.”
“Most people don’t get it. They think I’m Trudy. Or Julie. Because it’s not a name; it’s a freaking adverb. But it’s fine. My parents loved it. What can you do? And I suppose I really don’t mind it now.”
“I think it’s quite pretty. And it suits you.”
She holds my gaze for a lingering moment, swallows, then sighs. “Listen, I saw my brother this morning. I told him I’m spending more time with you.”
I flinch, unsure what to make of this admission. “He knows we hang out. Why would you feel like you had to confess something?”
“I didn’t tell him what happened six months ago. I simply mentioned over breakfast that I was going to be doing this with you. I told him because this here”—she gestures from her to me—“this deal, it feels more personal than taking a class or working out together. I know we flirt and joke.”
“Wait. You flirt? It’s more like you tell me you don’t flirt.” I hold up a stop-a-moment finger. “Oh, that’s hate-flirting. My bad.”
Twin spots of pink spread across her cheeks. She looks away then back at me. “Whatever. You know I’m attracted to you.”
Those words. Attracted to you. I shouldn’t let them send a charge through me. But hell, they do, an electric jolt. She’s been so damn good at denying, evading, dodging.
But right now, she is confessing, and it’s a turn-on exactly when it shouldn’t be. And maybe because emotions are the devil but desire is angelic, I give in, brushing my fingers down her arm. “I’m wildly attracted to you.”
Her breath catches. She leans closer to me, out of the friend zone and into the more zone. Her gaze swings down to my hand on her arm. “That’s a little tempting.”
“It is.”
“Maybe too tempting.”
“I should stop.” I run my finger down her bare skin, savoring the electric sensation of touching this woman again. The air between us crackles, and all it would take is . . . well, it would take deciding to cross a line we don’t want to cross.
Lines exist for a reason.
So you don’t give in to lust.
So you don’t let your dick or your heart control you. You don’t give in to instant gratification when you have a lifetime of friendship between you.
I swallow, take a breath, find my voice again. “Are you . . . dating anyone?” I choke out the words. They taste like last week’s compost bin.
Laughing, she shakes her head. “Sounds like you’d rather I didn’t?”
