free arm around her neck to hold her down. She folded at the waist, the pressure bending her until her shoulder was pinned to his hip. All he needed to do was add a noogie and it would be just like old times.
With a frustrated grunt, she stopped struggling, gave a firm elbow up to the ribs, and he released her. She stepped back.
“Fine. Play your stupid games, but realize that in about two hours everyone in town is going to hear that you were at my house this morning wearing last night’s stubble”—which he wore incredibly well—“and think that we are really a thing.”
“Cream puff, we are a thing, and I give it ten minutes, since your Facebook status says you’re in a relationship.” Marc handed her the phone, and she looked at the screen. Sure enough, he had updated her status on Facebook. He had also posted a comment from his account to her wall reading: “Lexi, make me the happiest man in the valley and allow me to be your Mr. Every Day.”
There were already seven comments: five urging her to say yes, one from her grandmother reminding her that handwritten cards to her remaining bachelors would be correct etiquette, and a nasty one from Natasha citing how hacking into another person’s account and posting on their behalf was illegal.
Thirty seconds and people were already talking.
Her stomach fell to her toes, making her hangover that much worse. How could he do this? Everyone in town would soon figure out that it was a stupid prank, and she would look even more pathetic than the girl whose dates were grandma-approved.
“Is this some kind of sick joke?”
“No joke, Lexi. And before you type in no and break my heart in front of the world, just think about—”
He stopped talking, and she wondered if he was actually giving her time to think about it, which wasn’t a good idea, because all she could think about was finding her straw and some toilet paper.
Then she realized that his lack of verbs and articles was due to a severe lack of terry cloth on her end. His eyes were glued to the front of her robe, which had come open during their tussle and was showing off quite a lot of skin and red lace. And the way he was looking at her, as though he found her sexy and beautiful, made her stomach do a silly flip. Just a little one.
Lexi had forgotten how good it felt to have a man look at her like she was a desirable woman, like all she had to do was nod her head and he would take her against the wall, hangover and all. Lord knew Jeffery hadn’t looked at her as more than a roommate and head chef in years. She took her time adjusting her robe and tightening the belt.
Even after it was securely closed, Marc took a while to look up. And when he did, instead of the same stupid line or that little wink she’d seen him give hundreds of girls, he cleared his throat, and if Lexi wasn’t mistaken, his ears were tinted slightly pinker than normal.
“Think about it, Lexi,” he said, sounding so unaffected it made her wonder if she had, in her need to feel special and beautiful, imagined the entire moment. “It’s a great setup. You pretend I’m your boyfriend, and you don’t have to go on any more dates. No more dates means you get to focus completely on the bistro and creating a menu.”
“I don’t need a pretend boyfriend,” she said. Now those silly little flutters from a moment ago left her feeling just silly. And defensive. Why did everyone assume she needed help in the man department? “If I wanted one, I could get him on my own. And as for my dates, I have everything under control.”
As though on cue, her phone rang. She looked at the screen and groaned. It was Mr. Wednesday Morning, probably calling about his mom’s Tupperware party. She’d meant to call him, explain about the Daughters of the Prohibition tasting and hope he’d understand. No way could she come up with a unique way to serve salmon on asparagus if her last night to experiment was spent burping lids and touring his Velcro collection.
Before she could answer, Marc had her phone. “Hello?”
Lexi frowned.
Marc winked.
“Oh, Corbin. Yeah, it’s Marco.” A long silence. “Yeah, Mr. Every Day. I’m still waiting. You know women, they like the chase.” After Marc