Page 9 of If You Were Mine (After We Fall 3)
I bit my lip. “A couple months, I guess?”
He nodded. “Where did we meet?”
“I thought about that. Maybe the art supply store? I teach art at an elementary school during the week,” I explained, “and the wedding is a co-worker’s, so we can’t say we met there.”
“You’re a teacher.” He said it like he was impressed. “Can I call you Miss French?”
“No.”
He sighed. “You’re no fun. So, art supply store. Am I an artist? What’s my occupation?”
“I don’t know. What about your real one? Aren’t you a pilot?”
He cocked his head, narrowing his eyes as if he had to think about whether he was or not. “I wouldn’t really call that an occupation. It’s more of a hobby.”
I stared at him. “I don’t understand. What do you do for a living besides hire yourself out on dates all over the country?”
“How do you know I do anything?” He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, a cocky grin on his face. “Maybe I’m independently wealthy.”
“Maybe you’re a serial killer.”
“I promise I am not a serial killer.”
“Good.”
“Just a lady-killer. Kidding, kidding,” he said when I gave him a dirty look. “For fuck’s sake, you gotta lighten up a little bit, Claire. Don’t take everything so seriously.”
“I’m sorry, but this is a big deal to me, and I’m worried. I’m going to be lying to co-workers and friends all night, and I’m a terrible actress.”
“Don’t worry, I’m probably good enough for both of us.”
“You’re not helping.” I put my face in my hands. “God, this is never going to work.”
“Why do it at all?” he asked. “Why not just go alone?”
I peeked through my fingers at him. “Ever sat at the singles table at a wedding?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
Slouching in my chair, I dropped my hands to my lap. “Trust me when I say that it’s a fate worse than death. But I have no good prospects at the moment, and I’m tired of all the single jokes.”
He shrugged, leaning forward again. “OK, so we’re gonna go together and have a great fucking time and show them all how not-single you are. You’ve got a pilot who’s crazy about you.”
“Fine. And where do you live?”
“How about Royal Oak?”
“OK.” Taking a deep breath, I crossed my fingers. “I hope this works.”
“Trust me, it will work. You just have to relax.” He reached over and touched me lightly on the top of my hand.
Our eyes met, and an unexpected little rush of heat swept up my arm. “I’ll try.”
I felt heat in my cheeks, and dropped my head. Blushing like a twelve-year-old because a cute boy touched your hand. Nice. I reached for my purse on the chair next to me. “Should I…” I swallowed and lowered my voice. “Should I pay you now? I brought cash.”
“Sure. When I get home, I’ll book the date officially and send you the contract to fill out and sign electronically.” He grabbed his jacket and slipped his arms into the sleeves.
“What’s in the contract?”
