He lifted a shoulder. “With people and relationships,” he said. “I’m so solid with my mom and dad that I don’t really want to throw this monkey wrench at them. And I’m enjoying getting to know Tessa as a person, not as my biological mother. And don’t start me on you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He draped an arm around her. “Once the truth is out, we will definitely change.”
“I know, but…we didn’t do this for us, Roman. We did this to give you easy access to Tessa.”
He tightened his grip. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fake, phony, ruse, pretend. I know your buzzwords, Lacey Knight. If I want to believe you’re my girlfriend, you are. I mean, assuming you agree.”
She just smiled, amused that he even had to ask.
“But all that will change,” he said. “And I don’t want it to. I’ll have to go back to Jacksonville, so…”
When he didn’t finish, she slowed her step and then stopped again, waiting. “So…” she urged.
“So maybe you’ll…come over and watch me play sometime.”
“I would,” she said. “Assuming…”
“Assuming I get off the bench,” he joked.
“Assuming you and I are still friends after the truth is out and our loved ones respond.”
He pulled her a little closer. “If they’re loved ones, they’ll…keep loving us. They’ll understand that I was curious and needed to know my biological mother.”
“I hope so,” she said, trying to make it sound light but she was concerned about Tessa.
“And by the way…” He turned her in his arms and looked down at her. “When are you going to realize we’re more than just friends?”
“Wearefriends.”
“Really? ’Cause I’m about to kiss you right on that beautiful mouth and I don’t kiss my friends.”
She felt her whole being melting into him as their lips met and the world disappeared into a haze of delicious, perfect, soft….barking.
From a distance.
They jerked apart.
“Pickles!”
Turning, they caught sight of a flash of brown disappearing around a tree, then back on the path, shooting off at breakneck speed.
“Whoa!” Roman shot off in the same direction, like a proverbial bullet. Pickles was quick and made it at least fifty yards but he was no match for Roman, who caught up with him in a second and scooped the dog up like, well, like a football.
He turned in a circle and held the dog in the air. “And he scores!” he called out, twirling Pickles playfully in a touchdown dance. “It’s a…Pickles Six!”
Lacey laughed, hustling toward them, her mind spinning over the conversation about change. It was coming—and fast.
Lacey openedher eyes with a start, not sure where she was for a moment.
Her head rested on something hard and…beating. Roman’s chest. His cotton T-shirt, warm and a little damp. The snoring she heard was Pickles, curled in the crate they’d brought back to Roman’s rental house hours ago.
They’d eaten dinner, watched a movie, and crashed. Now it was…very dark outside. She squinted at the kitchen clock.
Eleven?
Jeez, she was as bad as her mother, disappearing until late at night in the arms of a man.
