A Flighty Fake Boyfriend (Men of St. Nachos #2) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,11

gather together the tattered scraps of what little personal life I had, that I was aware of how unbalanced my priorities were.

Dan and Cam were right. I should have eaten more. Drank less. Smoked less. I should have found a way to handle stress that didn’t take years off my life.

Note to self: Install meditation app on phone and learn to use it. Mentally, I added, after the wedding because I just knew I’d be using old familiar coping mechanisms on this trip.

And Epic.

Because surely I would use my colorful fake boyfriend as one of many crutches to lean on so I could limp through this event without losing my mind.

I pulled up in front of Epic’s apartment building to find him waiting on the sidewalk surrounded by what looked like a garage sale’s worth of inexplicable junk.

He waved. I parked and got out of the car to ask over the roof, “What’s all this?”

He picked up a suit bag and said, “Tuxedo.”

“Okay.” I went around the vehicle and took it from him. I hung it inside the car next to mine. “And?”

He pointed to each thing, “Snacks, drinks, clothing, pool toys—”

“Pool toys?” Did he seriously expect to bring a giant inflatable unicorn? “Is all that necessary?”

“I can deflate it.” He pulled some plug and the poor thing just sizzled and got smaller while I watched. “I wasn’t sure what kind of car you had.”

“Epic—”

“Don’t worry, it’s not as hard to blow up as you’d think.”

“I—”

“It’s fine. I promise. Pop the trunk. I’ll have everything packed up in a sec. We’ll need the snacks inside on the floor of the back seat where we can reach.”

“What if I don’t allow eating in my car?”

“How do you do road trips without eating in the car?” His apparent shock shouldn’t have made me want to laugh.

“I rarely drive long distances.”

“Oh. So maybe you don’t know how this works, then?” he asked, all bug-eyed and innocent. “Healthy snacks are an absolute must, along with things that are just tasty—like Frito’s and bean dip.”

“You plan to eat bean dip in my leased Lexus?”

“Well, I can’t make you stop every time I want a snack, can I?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

“Don’t worry," he reassured. "This is all part of the fake boyfriend service plan."

"But it's only a two-hour drive."

"And by the time we’re back in St. Nacho’s, I’ll have you inducted into the road trip hall of fame.”

I wasn’t sure that was a good thing, but swept along by Epic’s enthusiasm, I let him shove all his stuff into my car.

When at last the sidewalk was empty and my car looked like the Griswolds would be driving it to Wally World, Epic beamed at me over the roof.

“I’m really honored you asked me to come with you, Ryan. It means a lot to me that you think I can be a good fake boyfriend for such an important event.”

“And I’m honored to have you, Epic. Honored and…pleased.”

He got in, and I joined him. “Ready?”

“Of course.” I keyed the engine.

“Wait.” His mouth formed a surprised O. “I need to sync my phone to your Bluetooth. Can I do that? Or do we need a USB? I made a road trip playlist.”

“You can sync it. Here.” USB indeed. Did he think I lived in the Dark Ages? As soon as I took his phone and linked it with the audio, a cello introduced me to a familiar but elusive overture. “What is that?”

“The Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack. Perfect start, don’t you think? Bring me the Horizon!” he said, quoting the film.

“Oh my God.” I muttered, not unhappily. “You’re going to be the weirdest fake boyfriend ever.”

“There’s nothing wrong with weird,” he said primly. “Grape soda?”

I almost gagged. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Okay. But you don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Yes, I do. I have grown-up tastebuds.”

With a knowing smile, he handed me a grapefruit LaCroix. “Okay, then, mister. You’ll probably like this.”

I probably would. Goddamn it. How had he known that?

I put the car in gear and took off as the music swelled around us.

“It really isn't that long a drive.”

“Then we must begin right away. Eat up, my good man.” He pulled a couple of Kind bars out of his bag, stuffed them into the console, and then turned back to rustle around until he came up with chips. It looked as if Epic planned to feed me like a goose on the way to the foie gras follies. If only Cam and Daniel could see me