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Like my eyes were connected to his mouth, I couldn’t help but obey. I peeked up reluctantly, only to find him considering me with a gentle smile. “It’s fine,” he reiterated. “Don’t get me wrong; you’re still a terrible matchmaker, but I wasn’t going to abandon you in a bar with no one there to take you home.”

I bit my lower lip. Hard. “Yeah.”

“How’s your head?” he asked again.

I took stock for a moment. “It hurts, but it’s not the end of the world.”

Cal nodded, like that was exactly what he’d expected. “I’ve got another tumbler in there with an electrolyte drink, but caffeine does sometimes help.” He gestured to my mug with his. “So off you go.”

I took a sip of the coffee and then blinked at it in surprise. “Oh, this is really good.”

“You had a ton of stevia in your drink last night.” Cal shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee. “I made an educatedguess.”

I tried not to feel some kind of way about that, but it was so… God. So cute. I drank another mouthful of coffee and then lowered it back to my lap, cupping the warm ceramic between my hands. “Well, uh,” I looked around, searching for any thread of something that might make this less awkward. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to do all this.”

He shrugged again, standing. “Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Honestly, I thought you’d be a lot more pissed,” he admitted ruefully.

“I assure you,” I said with a flare of my eyes, “I’m a lot more preoccupied with the horror of getting sloppy drunk all over a complete stranger.”

He made a sound like he was unsure. “I’m going to give you thirty seconds to remember the rest of what I said in the pub.” He went back to the kitchen, glancing at me over his shoulder. “Don’t hit me in the face. I have to see patients today.”

I frowned, watching him go and wondering what the hell he was talking about. I thought back, sifting through memories like an old-school Rolodex and cataloging each one. I’d introduced myself and started the speed dating. Then, I’d watched the couples for a bit, and that was when my tipsy spiral had gone into a tailspin. Things got pretty fuzzy after that. Dr. Hotpants had sat down in front of me and taken my drink away. I realized then how lucky I was that he’d even noticed I was debilitatingly drunk. Scarlet hadn’t even noticed.

“You came looking for Ruth earlier today, didn’t you?”

“Actually, I’m her husband.”

I gasped audibly, dropping my jaw and rounding a horrified stare to Cal. He returned my look with a chagrined half-smile. “And now we’ve caught up.”

I couldn’t seem to make my mouth close. A choked sound escaped my throat, and I turned to look forward, hoping my memory would change or correct itself. I had to be mistaken. He hadn’tactuallyclaimed to be my husband, had he? “You—” I sputtered finally, looking back to the doctor who was coming my way again with a red drink tumbler in his hands. “Tell me I’m remembering wrong.”

“About claiming to be your husband?” he clarified with a placid eyebrow raise. He reached me and held out the tumbler with the handle facing me.

“Please tell me you were joking.” I took the tumbler, glancing down at my coffee and realizing I now had two drinks I was in no mood to consume.

Cal bent down close to me, and his coconut shampoo wafted around us in a summery swirl. He plucked up my mug but stayed bent, so his bright green eyes stayed level with mine. “I was not.”

I tightened my hold on the tumbler, and my chin jutted out in an enraged tilt. “Are youkidding me right now?You told that to one of my coworkers?”

“I did,” he replied with unflappable calm. Straightening, he added, “because I’m a selfish bastard and I need you to play along with it.”

“You—what?” I shoved the blankets aside, struggling to untangle myself and put myself on—almost—equal footing with this psychopath. “You can’t just claim to be married to someone when they’re too drunk to argue. That’s,” I paused, almost too incensed to formulate coherent thoughts. “That’s unethical.”

“I like to think of it as opportunistic,” he replied before sipping his almost-empty coffee mug. “And you presented me with an opportunity I really couldn’t pass up.”

I finally won the war with my fluffy blankets and staggered to my feet. “You have to fix this.” I tipped too far to the side, and my vision swirled.

Cal whipped out a hand. He grasped my forearm and steadied me, pulling me closer to him. Warmth from his body lined the front of mine suddenly, seeping through the thin layer of my blouse. He held onto me, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “And how do you suggest I do that?”

I went brain-dead. Those freckles across his nose were mesmerizing. Like paint splatter made of bronze. And why did he have such long, light eyelashes? What guy had a razor-sharp jawlineandfeathery eyelashes like that? “Um.” I swallowed, glancing down at where his hand had wrapped around my forearm. My body drifted into his, and I lifted my eyes back to his. “I don’t know,” I admitted finally.

His lips twitched, and he skittered a look up and down my facial features. “Here’s the opportunity part. I need a girlfriend. You need a husband.”

“Oh God,” I said, curling my lip. “This sounds horriblealready.”

Cal didn’t release me, but he shifted his grip, his hand cupping my elbow and pulling me an inch closer, so we were just a breath away from being pressed up against each other. “Mine is short-term. I promise. Then you can do whatever you want with your fake husband when we’re done.Besides,” he angled a challenging look down to me. “You already had yourself in a pickle regardless.”

I had. It was true. I pursed my lips, pressed the cold tumbler to his chest, and pushed him two inches back. He leaned back, grinning as I tilted my chin up. “I had things handled, thanks.”