and all to be a couple?”
His lips curved into a smile. “You want to practice kissing, don’t you?”
“No!” He was teasing her, she realized, as his smile widened. And she’d fallen straight into his trap. He was going to keep her on her toes, trying to parry him back and forth. Ginny found herself wanting to rise to the challenge. And pretending with him helped her pretend everything in her life was better than what it was.
“Wes, if we’re going to do this and be good at it—and I don’t mean the kissing because we have that down pat—we should know some basic facts about the other. Like a real couple would. Or we should even just figure out stuff people will ask us, couple-wise. How we met and that sort of thing.”
“I know that when you get flustered or are nervous, like you are now, you talk fast and your fingers play with the ends of your hair.”
She blushed and stopped toying with her hair. “I just think we should know how we met and that sort of thing. I know you said the bar to Lois, but I think we need more details.”
“Couldn’t agree more.”
“Let me think . . .” She placed her fingers to her temples. “I can always say I drove up to Atlantic City for the weekend because I wanted to shop for a dress for Deb’s wedding, and that I went to the bar for a light meal.”
“Are you still teaching?” he asked abruptly.
She gave him a look. “Resigned, remember?”
“I mean, do you want to teach?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Because of the shooting?”
“Yes.”
He shot her a glance. “Are you going to say anything more about that? Like what happened?”
“Why do you want to know so badly? Lois gave you the full scoop. You don’t need to hear it from me.”
“I like getting the whole story—from the source.”
“There’s nothing else to it,” she lied.
“If you say so.”
“How long have we been ‘dating?’”
“Maybe a few weeks? Or should we just stick to a week? That I saw you at the bar, and it was love at first sight. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and it made my temporary move to Cape Hope that much easier.”
His words struck a nerve in her—the falsehood of it didn’t sit well with her. “I wouldn’t go so far to say it was love at first sight. Just that we clicked.”
“Oh, we definitely clicked.” After a long moment, he asked, “So we’re definitely going to that thing together this weekend?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”
“It’s just that . . . I’m not sure exactly what I’m getting myself into. You seem to live in a different world than I.”
“Is this Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus crap?”
“No. I don’t know how to explain it.” She grappled for words. “You’re so together. You have tons of money, and your lifestyle is probably just much different from mine.”
“What’s yours like?”
“I’m not filthy rich, and I don’t have satellite offices around the country. Or tons of pictures of me at fancy events.” Her cheeks heated as she realized she’d inadvertently let it slipped that she’d been Googling him. There had been many photos of him with a gorgeous, tall, skinny, raven-haired woman; in the most recent ones, there was a new woman on his arm. She didn’t know what he saw in her—or what he’d seen in her that night at the bar. Because if she was to go on history alone, then there was no way in the world they should have hooked up.
Except she had been tipsy, bordering on drunk. And he had been drinking, too. A classic case of SWI. Sex while intoxicated.
He wanted to fake date her was because he didn’t want any distractions. Fine by her. She didn’t want any distractions either, and there was nothing to risk by pretending to be with him. It wasn’t like there were ever going to be any real emotions between them.
So why did she care about his past and who he’d dated? It was just insecurity on her end. Ginny had never been the type to think highly of her
His lips curved into a smile. “You want to practice kissing, don’t you?”
“No!” He was teasing her, she realized, as his smile widened. And she’d fallen straight into his trap. He was going to keep her on her toes, trying to parry him back and forth. Ginny found herself wanting to rise to the challenge. And pretending with him helped her pretend everything in her life was better than what it was.
“Wes, if we’re going to do this and be good at it—and I don’t mean the kissing because we have that down pat—we should know some basic facts about the other. Like a real couple would. Or we should even just figure out stuff people will ask us, couple-wise. How we met and that sort of thing.”
“I know that when you get flustered or are nervous, like you are now, you talk fast and your fingers play with the ends of your hair.”
She blushed and stopped toying with her hair. “I just think we should know how we met and that sort of thing. I know you said the bar to Lois, but I think we need more details.”
“Couldn’t agree more.”
“Let me think . . .” She placed her fingers to her temples. “I can always say I drove up to Atlantic City for the weekend because I wanted to shop for a dress for Deb’s wedding, and that I went to the bar for a light meal.”
“Are you still teaching?” he asked abruptly.
She gave him a look. “Resigned, remember?”
“I mean, do you want to teach?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Because of the shooting?”
“Yes.”
He shot her a glance. “Are you going to say anything more about that? Like what happened?”
“Why do you want to know so badly? Lois gave you the full scoop. You don’t need to hear it from me.”
“I like getting the whole story—from the source.”
“There’s nothing else to it,” she lied.
“If you say so.”
“How long have we been ‘dating?’”
“Maybe a few weeks? Or should we just stick to a week? That I saw you at the bar, and it was love at first sight. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and it made my temporary move to Cape Hope that much easier.”
His words struck a nerve in her—the falsehood of it didn’t sit well with her. “I wouldn’t go so far to say it was love at first sight. Just that we clicked.”
“Oh, we definitely clicked.” After a long moment, he asked, “So we’re definitely going to that thing together this weekend?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”
“It’s just that . . . I’m not sure exactly what I’m getting myself into. You seem to live in a different world than I.”
“Is this Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus crap?”
“No. I don’t know how to explain it.” She grappled for words. “You’re so together. You have tons of money, and your lifestyle is probably just much different from mine.”
“What’s yours like?”
“I’m not filthy rich, and I don’t have satellite offices around the country. Or tons of pictures of me at fancy events.” Her cheeks heated as she realized she’d inadvertently let it slipped that she’d been Googling him. There had been many photos of him with a gorgeous, tall, skinny, raven-haired woman; in the most recent ones, there was a new woman on his arm. She didn’t know what he saw in her—or what he’d seen in her that night at the bar. Because if she was to go on history alone, then there was no way in the world they should have hooked up.
Except she had been tipsy, bordering on drunk. And he had been drinking, too. A classic case of SWI. Sex while intoxicated.
He wanted to fake date her was because he didn’t want any distractions. Fine by her. She didn’t want any distractions either, and there was nothing to risk by pretending to be with him. It wasn’t like there were ever going to be any real emotions between them.
So why did she care about his past and who he’d dated? It was just insecurity on her end. Ginny had never been the type to think highly of her
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