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“Why do I—” he started. Then he shook his head, looking amused. “You know what? No way is he going to ask us about our favorite colors or sexual positions. He probably thinks anal play is the equivalent of signing a lease on a new condo in hell with your dick.”
“Fair enough. Let’s try to narrow down what he might ask about.” I snorted. “Probably how we got together and when.”
“We need to come up with a story.” He snapped his fingers, pointing at me. “Help me out here. You’re the one with the big brain and great ideas.”
I loved that Rhyland made me feel smart and reminded me of it so frequently. No one else ever did. Not because I wasn’t smart but because people hardly noticed it. I didn’t fit into the stereotype of a smart person. I was just a single mom with a bar job.
“Well, we need to keep it real. He knows you used to entertain for money.” I bit into the flatbread, which was orgasmic, and chewed with gusto. “I think our safest option is to make our romance short but intense. Like, we hooked up last Christmas and decided we couldn’t live without each other.”
“Who hit on who?” Rhyland asked, noticing I was plucking the black olives from the flatbread and helping me out with the task.
“You hit on me, obviously.” I rolled my eyes. “We need to make it believable. Authenticity is key, Coltridge.”
“When are we getting married?” He passed me the olive-less piece of flatbread he was working on.
“Sometime next year.” I waved him off. “Best to put a buffer to allow sufficient time for the breakdown of our engagement.”
“Who’s going to break it off?”
I pointed to myself. “I already thought about it. We need something to make you look like the good guy so your professional relationship with him doesn’t suffer. I’m going to leave you for two werewolf shifters named Dolph and Claws.”
“I think we have two different ideas about what ‘authenticity’ means.” Rhy squinted, and I laughed.
The waitress stepped between us with our plates, slipping mine onto the table first before setting his salad in front of him with a beam. “Hi, Rhyland.”
“Hey, Wendy.”
Wendy licked her lips, looking between us awkwardly. She was objectively gorgeous, with an irresistible pout and long platinum hair that reached her lower back. “You, um, haven’t answered my texts?”
I pressed my lips together to keep myself from laughing. Rhyland’s salacious lifestyle was biting him in the ass, and I had a front-row seat for the occasion.
To his credit, Rhy didn’t seem too ruffled by her accusatory tone. “I wanted to tell you face-to-face.” He reached for my hand as I was grabbing another piece of flatbread, bringing my knuckles to his lips from across the table. The flatbread dropped between us. “I’m engaged now. It was all very sudden, but I met the one.” He made sure she got a good look at my rented engagement ring.
“Oh.” Her face closed off, her shoulders squaring. Her gaze scooted to me, and she forced out a smile. “Congratulations. That’s great.”
“Thanks.”
When she scurried away, disappearing into the kitchen, I shot Rhyland an inquisitive look. “Wow. That was cold.”
“She’s been bombarding me with text messages and emails for weeks,” Rhy explained. “I’ve been trying to let her down easy for a while now.”
“Rhyland Lucas Coltridge, did you take me here deliberately to break a girl’s heart?” My jaw dropped to the floor.
“Not really, but it was a nice bonus.”
“Is there any female in this zip code you haven’t slept with?”
“Pfft, of course.” He popped cubed chicken into his mouth, parking his elbows on the table. “First of all, there’s you.” He gestured toward me. “And I barely made my way through Forty-Fourth Street and Fourth Ave.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this”—I dug into my juicy steak—“but I feel kinda bad about cockblocking you.”
“Don’t,” he croaked.
“Why?”
“Because variety doesn’t equal freedom.” He popped a piece of chicken into his mouth. “And if I had the freedom to choose, I’d still choose you.” His eyes scurried back to his dish, and he took a forkful of a bite. “As a fuck buddy, of course.”
“Then why are you holding back?” My pulse gathered above my eyelid, thump-thump-thumping like a hummingbird. “There’s literally nothing at stake. Row’s not going to know.”