17. APRIL
APRIL
It had been a few days since my neck started feeling better.
Josh was the reason. His endless massages worked.
Otherwise, I’d still be out of commission.
He was so great. Attentive, kind, and his hands were honestly good enough that if he wanted a career change, I’d support it.
Just thinking of how wonderful, was making my chest feel an unwelcomed kick.
Now that I was back on my feet and my neck not at an angle, I’d wanted to do something special for him, to say thanks.
But what? A personal massage? Yeah, he’d think that it was a gateway for sex.
Hell, I’d thought it when he was rubbing my shoulders.
I had to force myself to banish those thoughts.
Sex was not something in a fake-dating scenario.
Grabbing my computer, I started to type in thank-you ideas. Finally, I found something I could work with, delivery was set for seven. It was practice day, so he would be home in time.
Balancing a box, a grocery bag, and a bottle of wine tucked under my arm, my foot tapped against Josh’s door. Second thoughts swirled in my mind. We hadn’t specifically agreed to meet tonight and I had hoped he would be home.
As I stood waiting, a flash of nerves ran through me.
What if he wasn’t here? What if he had company.
Oh, that would be terrible. Clearly the effects of my buzzed-up muscle relaxants had worn off now and what had seemed like a good idea, might not have been.
Self-doubt inched in and I turned to head back down the hall when the door opened. He simply smiled and my nerves eased.
He nodded toward the box. “What’s all this?”
“We need to set rules for my Papi’s party, plus we need to eat. I thought we could stay in tonight. Cook at home.” The wine bottle was dangerously close to slipping out of the small bag dangling from my arm. Josh grabbed the box, allowing me to save the wine from crashing to the ground.
“Cook?” he asked, widening his door to let me in.
“Yes… You know, the thing that involves the kitchen, the oven that can be used for more than pizza-box storage.” He eyed me suspiciously as he placed the box on the counter.
Truth be told, I could cook to survive, but Nora handled most of it.
Cooking seemed convenient, gave us some privacy from anyone overhearing our arrangement.
He shifted himself to the barstool on the other side of the counter. Meanwhile, I laid out the contents of chicken breast, zucchini, bell peppers, lemons, couscous, feta cheese, and a seasoning pouch on the counter. Then pulled out the recipe card, adding it to the pile of stuff.
Josh snagged it and gave it a once over. “How’d you know I’d like Greek chicken?”
“I didn’t.” I shrugged. “But it looked tasty and it’s got a good amount of protein for your diet.”
I dumped the fresh produce into the sink and started washing them. Josh stood eyeing me as I commandeered his kitchen like it was my own. Once the veggies were washed, I set them up on a paper towel to dry. I opened the first set of lower cupboards, but they were empty. What the–?
“Does this fancy kitchen contain pots and pans, or are all the cupboards empty?” I asked, opening a third door to see a few mismatched Toronto Twister mugs.
“Pantry.” He nodded toward the tall set of cabinets on the far wall.
“Ah.” I stalked over and was pleasantly surprised to see he had a fully stocked cookware set. Less surprised to see that it looked as if it had never been used. The gleaming stainless steel had not a scratch on it.
“Have you ever used these?” I asked, grabbing one of the large skillets with a lid.
“Nope.”
My eyebrows knitted together with all the questions of why or how do you not ever have the need to cook?
I balanced it in my hands, noting the heavy weight and make of the pan.
These were high quality, maybe even restaurant style and yet, never used.
“Why would you spend such good money on them if you were never going to use them?”
“I dunno. I heard they were the best.”
Typical.
Josh leaned in against the counter. “Are you judging me?”
“Damn right.”
“Hey, before you judge too hard, know that I grill like a mother fu—.” He stopped mid-sentence, seeming to change his wording.
“The grill is easier and I like the char on the food. Proteins, veggies, all done with minimal effort and less dishes.” His eyes wandered over the contents of the food box now littering his counter.
“Where do you grill?”
“The condo rooftop has a whole patio setup with a couple of grills.”
Huh. “I’d completely forgotten about that!”
“Alright, grill master, come do it the old-fashioned way.” I laughed tossing a bell pepper at him, which he caught without taking his eyes off me. He swept around the counter, coming close enough for me to catch the faint scent of his cologne.
“Old-fashioned is sometimes all you need.” He winked.
Choosing to ignore his flirting, I carefully read the instructions of the card. Trying not to focus on how easy this was, to just be cooking a meal with him, like it was natural. Reaching around for the chicken, I stuttered out, “Let’s lay out some ground rules, for the party.”
“Like what?” he asked with a hint of hesitation.
“Like, it’s not the same as around the guys. My sister is going to grill us more than your BBQ. We need to be both couple-y with touches and about knowing the usual topics in a fake-dating agreement.”
“Never fake dated, so hit me with what you think we need to set rules for.”
Fair point. “I haven’t either, in case it crossed your mind.”
“Didn’t think you had.”
I pulled out the instruction card again, since I’d already forgotten what I read thanks to him, and began tossing the packet together for the marinade. Then added the chicken into the bowl. “When is your bet over?”
He paused and stared over at the calendar. “About three weeks from now. You?”
I cringed. “Like, 6 days.”
He blew out a breath. “Nothing like leaving it to the last minute.”
I tossed my hands up. “It wasn’t like I wasn’t trying.”
He winced. “What were you going to do if you didn’t find someone?”
“Fake the plague.”
He let out a bark of a laugh. “I see. Let’s not go crazy on making up stories, especially ones that have medical problems from the eighteen-hundreds.”
“Yeah. Not my best idea.” We continued cooking side by side. I had managed the chicken while Josh had moved to making the couscous. “We have our timeline. A month give or take. What else?”
“I’d assume we need to know the basic details. How many dates we have had, how we take our coffees in the morning. Shit couples would know about each other,” he said, stirring the pot.
“Seems reasonable. You already know I like lattes, oh, and I never eat breakfast.”
He guffawed. “No breakfast? Isn’t that, like, the most important meal of the day?”
“Yeah, but I prefer to sleep in. I’ll take a coffee to-go in the morning and eat eventually.”
“Got it, so don’t wake you up in the morning.” He chuckled.
“Wake at risk,” I teased.
“You?”
“Coffee is a must. One sugar and one cream. I always eat breakfast. Eggs, sunny-side, English muffin, and yogurt.”
“Specific. Good to know.” Swallowing the lump in my throat. There were other details we would need to discuss and I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. “Let’s cover the basics. Family, hobbies, dislikes.”
“Mom, and a brother who is on the Crashers. We don’t get along. He’s a dick.” My eyebrow shot up. Josh rolled his eyes.
“We seem to have sibling rivalry in common.” I chuckled.
“Should I call you baby or honey?”
My nose scrunched. “I guess, it’s standard.”
He shrugged.
“Okay, Babes. Let’s do this couple-y thing and make us a meal.” I burst into laughter and so did he. It was the good kind, the letting the steam out of the room kind. It was nice to see a silly side of him.
I cleared my throat. “What about the dirty details?”
He damn near knocked the pan off the stove. “Huh?”
“Coffee and food are good, but that’s the easy shit. If we want people to buy this,” I waved his finger between us, “we’re going to need a little intimacy. We need to touch, little grazes or glances.”
He wiggled his brows. “No problem on my end.”
Rolling my eyes, I swatted at him. “Easy, it’s just for show.”
He caught my hand mid-swipe and pulled me into his chest. My eyes locked on his in surprise.
My heart thumped wildly as his thumbs ran down my arm.
Without warning he brought my arm up and his lips traced so softly against the inside of my wrist, it felt like a feather slipping across me. I swallowed hard.
His eyes locked onto mine. Neither of us moved.
The air was charged with sexual tension and all I could do was hold my breath, waiting, hoping maybe he would kiss me.
A snap and pop from the chicken startled both of us as we jumped apart.
Josh quickly turned down the flame. “See, even the chicken got too hot and bothered around us.”
My face fell. “Seriously?”
He chuckled. “Oh, lighten up. I think we’ll do just fine.”
The problem was, I didn’t think he was wrong. For a split second, even I got lost in the moment and forgot it was all for show. Even if there was no one to show off to. Maybe this could work.
I was in my office, getting ready for work after a fitful night.
My mind still trapped at Josh’s and dinner.
The phone rang for the eighth time, mom’s number flashing on the screen, each ring seemed to have picked up volume like a shrill cry to answer it.
I had been avoiding her long enough. Sure, Josh and I had been good with this, but I was still hesitating when it came to confirming.
Maybe it was superstitious or whatever, but I was nervous that something would come up and he would bail.
Reluctantly, I answered. “Mom, hi.”
“I’ve been calling.”
“I know, Mom. We’re in season. It’s busy.”
“Too busy for your mother?”
Yeah. At least, that was what I wanted to say but knew better. “We are prepping for the All-Star break, Mom.”
She mumbled something I was sure I didn’t want to hear. “Anyways, the party is less than a week away. You’re certain he can come? I need a head count for the food and if he can’t, then...”
“Why do you always say that?”
“Hun. Your dates have a track record of canceling at the last minute.” My mom said in a sickly-sweet tone, as if she was only stating a fact and not being condescending.
My eyes closed. I let out a long breath.
I hated that she was right. Everyone I dated ended things with the mere mention of meeting family.
Maybe not immediately, but shortly thereafter.
It got to the point that I stopped asking, because it was like a sudden leap into “serious” relationship status, or at least that’s what Wes had said when I first asked him to come.
Needless to say, he wasn’t exactly on board with this and somehow, I was convinced I could get him to say yes.
I was wrong, again. I knew Josh had agreed, but now I felt bad involving him.
“I told you he’d back out.” I heard May’s voice on the other line. I forgot my mom was one of the few people who still used a damn land line. “May?”
“Yeah. I bet mom a hundred bucks he wouldn’t make it.”
“He’ll be there,” I emphasized.
“Hmm.” May added like she didn't believe me. Alright, I see the irony in it, but I was sick of her crappy better-than-me attitude. “What was his name, again?”
Fuck it. He said he would, so here goes. “Josh.”
“Josh?” My sister echoed.
It was like saying his name made him appear. He came around the doorway and tilted his chin at the phone. I mouthed to him, “My mom and sister.”
He stepped in closer, the scent of his soap from the shower wafting at me and damn, did he smell delicious. “Can’t wait to meet them.”
They gasped. I bit my lip to stifle my laugh. “Now that that’s settled, I gotta get back to work.”
“Uh, okay,” my mom stuttered, clearly shocked I was telling the truth. Even in that insult of doubt, I felt a moment of gratitude for Josh.
“Thank you.”
He smiled genuinely. “No worries. Besides, it sounded intense.”
“Did it?”
“Uh, you were about to gnaw your thumb off.” He pointed to the now red nub.
Tucking it behind my back, I shrugged. “They tend to do that to me.”
“Why do you let them?”
A loaded question. It wasn’t like I wanted them to, but they knew exactly how to push all the buttons, and I reverted to my awkward-teen self who just stayed out of their way. My family drama was going to come up anyways, since he was going to meet them.
I shrugged. “Can’t seem to not to.”
“Hence the need for the boyfriend?” He harrumphed. “Yeah, I got a brother who’s like that.”
I snorted. It was hard to believe there were two of them.
Except, I met his brother once, they resembled each other, but his brother had an extra two inches in height and ten pounds of muscles, which I didn't know could exist. He played for our Toronto Crashers pro-soccer team.
He was just as ruthless on the field, but nicer off.
“Anyways, I’m late to meet with Kev,” I said, pushing past him.
He didn’t stop me, thankfully. As I met with Kev and started our pregame routine, my brain recalled the conversation and the giant lie my ego got the rest of me into.
Panic was creeping in as I tried to recall exactly what I had said about Wes and if it was enough to believe Josh had similar traits.
I had been very vague about him, mostly because no one would have believed me anyways. He was nothing like anyone else I’d dated. I stood frozen, trying to remember if I’d told them his name, because Wes and Josh weren’t even similar. In any way.