I’m nodding, a thousand thoughts flooding my mind at once until I start at the top of my mental to-do list that I crafted when I decided I’d say yes to his proposition.
“We should establish the ground rules for this.”
His brow quirks. “Ground rules?”
“What exactly you need from me and when. Do I go to all your games now or is it just in the press? What boundaries do we have for one another? We should establish it all because if there isn’t communication during this it will get…messy.”
Messy as in I need to know that if you kiss me it’s fake, just so I don’t let my libido run away from me and get the impression you find me attractive.
A lightning bolt of heat strikes through my body. I’m going to have to kiss him, and something tells me I’m going to love it more than I should. But I can’t say that, so I settle on repeating, “Ground rules.”
He looks at me dubiously. “Have you done this before?”
I snort, then bark with shocked laughter. “God no. My best friend Layla reads a lot; she told me the best way to move forward.”
“What does this have to do with reading?”
“I honestly have no idea. She blushes and clamps up if you ask her.” I wave my hand in the air. “We’re getting off track.Ground rules. What does this fake relationship look like? How do we convince everyone you’re on the straight and narrow?”
He rubs his palm over his five o’clock shadow and I have the strongest urge to trail my fingers down the stubble, to feel it tickle my sensitive skin.
Men aren’t trustworthy. Men break hearts. Men are unreliable.
That is the mantra that will get me through this to see my mother alive and well. I just need to keep reminding myself that despite him appearing shy and adorable and ruggedly sexy with his wavy brown locks and perfectly chiseled face, he is still a man, and he will break my heart if I don’t remember that everything moving forward is fake.
He looks around the living room as if it will give him the answers he seeks and I suppose it does because something sparks in his gaze before he straightens and turns back to me with a hint of mischievousness. “I suppose it would look like you attending any home games and team events during the season, and me taking you on dates.”
I’m nodding along, my brain running a thousand steps ahead.
“Home games. I can do?—”
“We usually all go to a bar downtown after home games. It would be odd if you didn’t come to those.”
“Home games and celebrations after.” I wink. “Or commiserating drinks.”
He guffaws. “If you were my real girlfriend you’d have a lot more faith in my ability.”
“Mm-hmm,” I hum under my breath. “What else?” I ask, steering us back to the topic at hand.
He blows out a breath. “During the season, press is really heavy and I suppose this is all for good publicity, so a date a week? Perhaps two? Depending on our schedules.”
“Public solo appearances, done.”
He pauses, those blue eyes snagging on my brown. “Are you making a mental list?”
My back straightens and I run my fingers through my hair, a nervous tick of mine. “No, why would you say that?” Of courseI’m making a mental list, but he doesn’t need to know the depths of how neurotic they can be.
His eyes seem to peer all the way to my soul before a lopsided grin takes over.
Before he can spew whatever he’s about to say, I click my tongue. “Back to the topic. Is there anything else?”
A blush explodes across his cheeks as he adverts his gaze from mine. In a second, that cocky smirk is gone, replaced by a shyness that surprisingly warms my belly.
Ducking my head, I try to catch his gaze once more. “Open communication is the only way this will work.”
“I should be the one saying that, not you.” He blows out a frustrated breath before blurting, “We need to discuss intimacy.”
I nod along slowly, my heart leaping at the words. I knew this conversation would happen, and I prepared myself by practicing schooling my features so he doesn’t see the way my body reacts at the thought of him touching me. I bite my lip to stop the smile that threatens to twitch upwards.
