Chapter 5 Brendan #2
I study her face to see if she’s kidding. “I thought you agreed to the wedding date to get the vendor contract?”
She frowns. “Not completely. I owe you for what you did for Eli. And, it’s what friends do.”
There it is again, that word I’ve come to hate: friends.
I should be glad she’s even offering that. I just need to remember that’s all this is—a chance to rebuild something we lost, without making the same mistake twice.
I let myself want her once. No way I’m doing that again. This might be the closest I get to having her back in my life, and that has to be enough.
She plays with the strap of her bag, like she’s considering something. “I was serious about that practice idea. Maybe we should test it out.”
“Now?”
“Yes, we need to look as natural as possible.”
“Okay.” I swallow, suddenly feeling like I’m thirteen and don’t have a clue how to even talk to a girl. “What do I do first?”
“Maybe touch my shoulder?”
My heart starts racing in my chest as I slide my hand toward her, because this touch is different.
This is Scarlett Rossi, the girl I kissed when I was eighteen.
I still remember the exact moment I knew I was in trouble.
She’d swiped my baseball cap and put it on, grinning at me like she’d won something.
Right then, looking at her in my things, I realized that I was never going to want anyone the way I wanted her.
All these years later, I’m not sure that’s ever changed. Which is exactly the problem.
I try to think of it like a coach would, something casual and platonic. Like slapping one of my players on the shoulder and saying, “Good game.” But the moment my fingers make contact with the soft skin of her arm, all my thoughts start spinning like a tumbleweed.
“Your hand feels wooden,” she says, frowning. “And why are your palms so dry? Don’t you own lotion?”
It snaps me right out of the moment. “Listen,” I say, pulling back. “I’m trying to drive and practice at the same time. It’s harder than it looks.”
“Well, try to make it more natural. Like this.” She scoots closer and leans her shoulder into my arm, which makes me swerve across the center line. Apparently, my brain can’t concentrate on driving while having Scarlett close to me at the same time.
“Brendan!” she yelps as I course-correct back to our lane. “This is exactly why we need to practice!”
“I think we’ve practiced enough.” I grip the steering wheel, just to keep my hand from straying to her shoulder again.
“Well, how are we going to sell it tonight if you can’t even touch me now, when we’re alone?”
I stare at her for a moment, then look back at the road, trying to ignore how much I’d actually like to touch her under completely different circumstances.
“I thought we were going for subtle?”
“We are. But you have to act like you’re happy about it.”
“So wait…I’m supposed to sell it, but I’m also supposed to make it subtle?”
She throws her hands up in exasperation. “Do I have to spell everything out for you, Marco?”
“Apparently, yes. I’m just surprised you don’t have a sticky note outlining exactly how far this charade is supposed to go.”
Her eyes widen and her lips part slightly. “Brendan Marco, are you making fun of my organizational system?”
“Yes…I mean no! I’m just—”
“Forget I ever mentioned the list.” She crumples the sticky note in her hand.
“Scarlett, wait. I don’t think you’re wrong to plan this out. My family will expect us to act like a real couple.” I take a breath. “We might even need to discuss whether we’re okay with…other things.”
“Other things?” She frowns. “What other things?”
“You know how my mom is. She’s part Puerto Rican; she kisses everyone she meets. While my dad was the opposite—barely tolerated a stiff side hug. Classic Marco man married to his emotional opposite.”
“You mean emotionally unavailable men marrying women who have no personal boundaries?”
“Exactly. Which is why she’ll expect the same from you.”
Scarlett points to herself. “Me? But I’m not a Marco woman.”
“I’m just saying…”
She let out an annoyed sigh. “Well, maybe a peck on the cheek is permissible in extreme circumstances. But that’s it.”
“You sound like a ninety-year-old nun who’s been living a life of celibacy for too long.”
Her mouth drops. “Look, it’s in both our best interests to make our families believe this is real. The more convinced they are, the less likely they are to ask uncomfortable questions that could expose our complete lack of actual romantic history. But that doesn’t mean I have to kiss you.”
She pulls down the visor mirror to check her reflection, then suddenly gasps.
“What’s wrong?”
Her fingers fly up to her earlobe. “My earring! Where’s my lucky diamond earring?
” She tips her head to show me her right ear, which has a teardrop diamond dangling from it.
The left ear is completely bare. “I can’t lose it.
It’s from my great-grandmother’s wedding set.
If I lose this, my dad will have an actual heart attack. ”
“Maybe it fell out in the car?”
She immediately starts searching the floor, tossing candy wrappers and sticky notes everywhere. “It’s not here.”
“Check between the seats?”
She contorts herself into an impossible position, searching the gap between her seat and the center console. “Nothing.”
She looks at my lap. “Maybe it fell when I leaned against you and you’re sitting on it?”
“I think I’d notice if I were sitting on jewelry.”
“What are you, the princess and the pea? Just move over a little.” Without warning, she pushes my right leg—the same one operating the gas pedal.
My foot slips, causing the car to suddenly decelerate and then lurch forward when I compensate. “Scarlett, you can’t just shove my driving leg around!”
“I need you to lift up so I can check under you,” she says, poking at my thigh. “It’s not that complicated.”
“I’m operating a moving vehicle. I can’t exactly—”
“MOVE!” She pushes my leg again, which sends the SUV into another jerky motion that throws her directly into my lap.
For a moment we freeze, suddenly aware of our very awkward position. She’s nearly on top of me and her hand is on my thigh—by accident, of course, but tell that to my overreactive body.
“What are you doing?” I yelp.
“I’m not doing anything!” she protests from her current position, sprawled across me.
My tire hits the shoulder before I swerve, wrestling the car back into my lane.
“You’re the one who can’t drive in a straight line!”
“That’s because you keep assaulting my leg while I’m trying to operate heavy machinery!”
“Oh, so now I’m the problem? At least I’m not the one who serenaded someone at a Christmas party!”
“Will you ever let me live that down?”
“No, I won’t.” She scrambles to her side, smoothing her hair down. “Now just keep your hands on the wheel while I search under your seat.”
“Under my seat?” I bellow. “How are you going to—”
But she’s already twisting herself into an awkward position, somehow threading her way under the steering wheel while still buckled in. It’s like having an overeager golden retriever climbing on your lap while driving.
“Scarlett.” I keep my eyes on the road, because if I watch her fold herself into a human pretzel, I will drive us into a ditch. “This is dangerous. You can’t contort yourself under the dashboard while I’m driving.”
“Just lift up a little,” she commands from somewhere near my ankles.
“Can we please wait until we’re not moving?” I’m swerving all over the road as she gets handsy with my pant leg before pushing my foot up.
Why is it I could hardly touch her when we were practicing, but now that we’re not, we’re practically in each other’s pockets?
“I need to find it before we get to dinner and my parents notice!”
“Scarlett—”
I’m trying to maintain control of the vehicle while she performs what appears to be car yoga in my seat when I hear the unmistakable sound of a siren behind us.
A cop pulls up behind me, lights flashing in my rearview, and my stomach plummets.
Her head pops up from its hiding place and smacks into the steering wheel.
“Ow!” She winces, clutching her head. “Are we seriously getting pulled over right now?” She turns around and stares at the cop car behind us, then slumps against her seat. “We’re going to be a viral TikTok by morning.”
“Well.” I watch the cop walk up in the rearview. “Look on the bright side—our relationship is officially public record now.”