Take A Number - Amy Daws Page 0,13
to her fridge. I use the opportunity to pour us both more wine. We’re going to need this.
“Okay, rule number one. No public displays of affection.” She writes down in perfect, kindergarten-teacher print NO PDA. “My mom will be watching me like a hawk, and if you’re touching me a lot, it’ll be obvious that this is totally fake.”
“Okay…what about hand-holding?” I ask, tilting my head curiously at her. “You think your family is going to buy that I’m your date if I can’t hold your hand?”
Rubbing her lips together, she nods. “I see what you’re saying. Okay, maybe hand-holding, but just the friendly kind. Not the waffling kind. That’s way too intimate.”
“I’m going to need a demonstration.”
She grumbles under her breath, clearly annoyed.
I love it.
She reaches down and cups my hand on my lap, flattening her palm to my palm and folding her fingers around the outside of mine. Her fingers are chilly and a stark contrast to my constant heat.
“Like this.”
I nod and stare down at her pale hand in mine. “And what is…waffling?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face.
“This.” She lifts my hand between us and interlaces her fingers with mine. Instantly, a warmth creeps through my body as her face flushes with color. Her eyes move from our hands to my eyes, and I see her swallow as she stares at my lips. “We can’t do this. This will be too much,” she croaks, her voice thick in her throat.
I nod, my eyes dropping to her lips, wondering what they taste like. “If you say so.”
She inhales deeply and holds her breath in her shoulders for a moment before shaking her head and abruptly dropping my hand. With trembling fingers, she clutches the marker and writes FRIENDSHIP HOLD on the list.
She continues staring at the notebook when she mutters, “And don’t do that staring thing you do sometimes.”
“Staring thing?”
She rolls her eyes and continues looking straight ahead. “You stare at me in the bakery sometimes, and it’s unnerving. Just…don’t do that.”
I inwardly cringe over being called out so blatantly on something I thought we were both enjoying. It’s a bit of a gut-check moment I need because all of this is fake. And Norah isn’t the type of girl to turn a fake thing into a fun thing, so I need to get a fucking grip. “Fair enough…I shall try to stop gazing at your immense beauty.”
She fights back a smirk and writes NO STARING. It’s highly emasculating, so I bark out the next rule. “No bossing me around at this thing.”
Her curious eyes lift, causing me to shift in my seat. “I don’t want your father to think I’m some sort of doormat. If I decide I want whiskey with my cake, you need to let me do that.”
“There will be a dessert wine—”
“Don’t care,” I cut her off. “If I decide I want white wine with steak or red wine with fish, you will let me be.”
Her nose wrinkles with disgust. “Why would you—?”
“Norah, it’s a guy thing. You don’t need to control every aspect of me, even if I am your fake date. This will be good for you.”
She exhales heavily like I just told her my rule was that we had to run naked through the party together.
“And while we’re at it,” I continue while I have her somewhat disarmed, “you can’t talk business.”
“What?” she exclaims, her blue eyes wide and accusing. “Dean, that’s the whole point of you being my date—to talk up my business. To show my mother that what I’m doing is important and impressive and…admirable.”
“I will brag about your business prowess. You will not. You will be the dutiful, sweet daughter who brought a date to the anniversary party like her mother wanted. I’ll handle your image with your mother and her friends. Don’t you worry. Plus, it’s going to be ten times more accepted coming from me, the new guy, than you…the disgruntled daughter.”
“I didn’t think I was disgruntled,” she murmurs glumly and begins to doodle on the legal pad.
I reach out and touch her leg, feeling her jerk beneath my touch. “I don’t mean anything by it, Norah. I just want them to hear me, and if you’re too busy pushing your mother’s buttons, it’ll fall on deaf ears.”
Her face softens, and she nods before writing the last two rules. “This looks good. Just one more big, major rule. This might be the most obvious, but it’s also the most sacred.”
“I can’t wait to