a Would-you-like-to-play-with-me? way.
“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in pretending to be my girlfriend and going to Montana with me for my cousin’s wedding, would you?” I said, squeezing the words past the puck-sized lump in my throat. “We’d be gone for twelve days.”
Her gaze shot to mine and her eyes went wide. “Yeah, that won’t work. I have a job, and visiting Montana isn’t exactly high on my to-do list. But I’d be more than happy to ride you like a cowgirl anytime. Yee haw.” She tilted her head to the side, giving me flirty eyes.
“I’m not a one-night-stand kind of guy.” At least not anymore, after what had been known within the Rock organization as The Incident.
“It doesn’t have to be just one night.” The way she said it suggested she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend any more than I was looking for a girlfriend.
Which, in case you were wondering, made getting laid tougher when you were taking a break from one-night stands.
What she was offering was interesting…but it didn’t help my current dilemma, which was more urgent than me getting to fuck someone.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to pass.” I dropped another apricot into my bag.
“That’s too bad. But if you change your mind…” She pulled a piece of paper and a pen from the small purse strung across her body, wrote something on the paper, and handed it to me. “Call me.”
Before I could respond, she walked away.
I crumpled up the phone number and tossed it into the nearby trash can.
After tracking down the remaining items on my list, I headed for the register. The cashier was the same girl I’d seen whenever I shopped in the store. She was pretty in a wholesome way, friendly, and seemed nice.
The perfect fake-girlfriend material. My family would probably like her.
I placed the bag of steel-cut oatmeal on the conveyor belt.
“Hi, Elias,” she said in the same cheerful voice she used every time I went through her till.
“Hi, there…” My gaze dipped to her name tag. “Brighton.” I removed the apricots from the shopping basket and parked the bag on the belt.
She shifted it onto the scale. “I’m so thrilled that the Rock are in the finals. I just about peed my pants when you scored the winning goal the other night.”
That was a visual I could’ve done without.
“Thanks…we’re excited about it, too.” My mouth might’ve been saying that, but my brain was screaming, Ask her if she’ll be your fake girlfriend for the wedding.
My mouth went dry, and my heart stumbled over itself as my pulse increased. I set the remaining items on the conveyer belt. Just ask her.
“I’m attending a wedding in a few weeks,” I finally got out. “It’s in Montana. And I…I need a fake girlfriend for it.”
Brighton stared at me for a long moment, then resumed ringing in my stuff. “A fake girlfriend? Why not a real one?”
A belated thought power-skated through me. The last thing I needed was for her, or the woman in the fruit section, to announce on social media that I was asking random women to be my fake girlfriend for a wedding.
Too late to worry about that now.
“Because I’m not interested in having a real girlfriend, hence the need for a fake one for the wedding.”
She grabbed the bag of green beans and popped them onto the scale. “Sorry, I’m not interested in being anyone’s fake girlfriend. But I’d be more than happy to be your real one.” She looked at the computer screen. “That’s thirty-nine eighteen. How are you paying?”
In my car, I texted Logan: Are you sure your ex-wife doesn’t have a friend who’s willing to be my fake girlfriend for my cousin’s wedding?
A few weeks ago, I had asked him if his ex-wife—who he was still good friends with—could help me out.
She had emphatically said that there was no way in hell she was risking any of her friends’ hearts at the hands of an NHL player.
I took that as a no at the time, but there was nothing wrong with hoping she’d changed her mind.
Logan: I asked her again. Sorry, she’s still holding firm.
Well, that was that.
My only hope was that whoever won a date with me at the silent auction would be willing to be my fake girlfriend.
Of course, one other problem existed that I needed to consider, as Logan had previously pointed out.
I might not even want to introduce her to my family.
I might not be able to survive five minutes