Chapter 23
ALL THE BYGONES
FORD
The shelves of board games are artfully arranged. The location, just past a record shop in Hayes Valley, is top-notch. The music is, begrudgingly, a good playlist of alt rock and pop.
Ergo, I hate this place and Skylar’s ex even more.
I’m guessing he’s the guy striding over to us with a proud papa look on his bearded face. It’s the stupidest beard I’ve ever seen. There is literally nothing I don’t despise about this man.
“Skylar! You made it,” the guy says, beaming as he eyeballs the redhead at my side. Really eyeballs her.
Sure, she’s hot as fuck in those black shorts. That sexy top. Those heels that make her legs look endless. And all that flesh I want to kiss, suck, bite.
But the dude is a cheater, and his eager eyes say he’d cheat again.
I loathe him to the end of time.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Skylar says, all sugary as she inches closer to me, her bare shoulder bumping my arm. I don’t hate that though—the contact.
Landon holds out his arms, asking her for a hug.
Oh hell no.
As guests mill about, sipping on champagne, checking out Trivial Pursuits and Twisters, I step forward, cutting off the potential hug like it’s a pass to the other team I’m stopping. I thrust the plant at Landon. “Here’s a store-opening gift for you.”
“Wow. A plant. This is amazing,” Landon says, taking it from me while still staring at Skylar.
She points to me. “This is my…date. Landon, this is Ford; Ford, Landon.”
Landon looks my way this time, then does a double take. “Aren’t you—?”
Skylar never mentioned her ex was a sports fan, but the way he’s gaping at me with fanboy recognition tells me he probably is.
But I’ll wait for him to make the connection.
“Ford Devon,” he says a second later, his eyes sparkling.
Landon sticks out his hand, and I take it, as a man with a well-groomed mustache and an affection for dapper clothes moves behind us, snapping a picture of the handshake. Probably the guy from the local neighborhood site. Skylar said he’d be here.
“That’s me,” I say, crunching Landon’s fingers. I’m a couple inches taller. My handshake is much stronger. I consider squeezing harder. Then I go for it. “Yes. I’m Ford.”
He winces, and a few satisfying seconds later I ease up, then let go.
After he blows out a relieved breath, he blurts out, “Holy shit! I love the Sea Dogs,” he says to Skylar. “You never told me you were dating a hockey star now.”
Not a player, but a star. Don’t hate that either.
“Well, we don’t talk now, Landon,” she says, with a saccharine smile.
“And that should change. I’m all about letting bygones be bygones,” he says like they’re both responsible for the fallout.
And sure, rationally, two people are in a relationship.
But fuck him. Just fuck him.
Before I can say you’re the bygone, asshole, a high-pitched gasp lands on my ears. Landon whirls around to meet the gaze of a blonde woman wearing gold-rimmed glasses. With wide, accusatory eyes, she’s pointing to a nearly empty tray of crudités on a table. “Landon, I told you to get more.”
“I told you to get more,” he tosses back.
Her eyes flare. “I told you. Don’t you remember?”
He sighs heavily. “Shoot. You’re right. Excuse me,” he says. Chastened, he cups her elbow and guides her to the back of the store.
Skylar turns to me, her eyes twinkling. “Trouble in paradise?”
“But not in fake paradise,” I whisper, and we didn’t plan this. Hell, we barely plotted anything besides the care and feeding of the pee plant, but I slide an arm around her waist.
Her breath hitches.
She moves against my hand like a cat, seeking touch, her back arching against my palm.
Here in the corner of her ex’s quirky shop, next to a stack of vintage Monopoly games, I angle my body close to my revenge fake date.
Tuck a strand of her red hair behind her ear.
Watch her lips part.
Drag my finger along her jawline.
Observe her fighting off a shudder.
Then, fuck it.
“We said it shouldn’t happen again, but that doesn’t include a kiss, does it?”
“It doesn’t,” she says, turning her face so her lips graze mine. It’s a teaser kiss but it’s hardly enough for me.
I press my fingers firmly on her back, kissing a little deeper till she opens for me. Yes. She tastes so good. I forget we’re in public, at a party, surrounded by guests.
Until someone bumps an elbow into my back, and we wrench apart.
“Sorry, man,” says a guy in skinny jeans and a plaid shirt.
“It’s all good,” I say, and the dude weaves past us to join a group in the corner of the store.
I try to clear the fog of that kiss from my head, but it’s hard with the way Skylar’s looking at me with glossy eyes that say she wants more. With a hungry tilt in her pretty lips. I’m about to toss her over my shoulder and say fuck that one-time thing when a throat clears from behind me.
I turn around.
My fists clench, reflexively. It’s Landon again, with the woman in glasses by his side. “This is Gretchen,” he says. “Just wanted to introduce everyone.”
“Oh, great! I was so hoping you would,” Skylar says, laying it on thick.
But Gretchen just offers a simpering smile, missing the sarcasm.
After the intros, Landon rocks back and forth, saying, “How did you meet?”
Shit. We didn’t practice our story. It never occurred to me anyone would ask. Which is a huge fuck-up on my part. It should have occurred to me. Of course people ask.
But my job is to react and to react really well. “She’s my designer,” I say.
Too bad Skylar answers at the same time with: “My dog humped his dog.”
I snap my gaze to her, and we stare wide-eyed, nonplussed.
Landon arches a brow. “So, you’re not quite clear on how you met?”
“That’s funny,” Gretchen says with a simpering laugh. I’m not sure if she’s saying the way we met is funny or Landon’s question is hilarious, but I am sure of one thing—they’re not winning.
“We met when her dog humped mine,” I say confidently to the asshole and his girlfriend. “And it also turned out she was interviewing later that day for a project as my designer.” I turn to Skylar again, playing up the hearts and flowers. “I guess you could say…it’s fate.”
And when playing it up, you go for the gold. I loop an arm around her waist and bring her close. She fits so well against me, especially when she gazes up at me with her green eyes flickering with over-the-top adoration.
“Yes, it was fate,” she says, roaming a hand up my chest. “I was sure he was going to turn me down. It’s not every day when your dog goes full doggy-style on a hot hockey player’s pup,” she adds, then turns back to them with a carefree shrug. “What can you do?”
I laugh, brushing my lips against her hair because why the hell not? “I did the only thing I could. I hired her, then asked her out on a date.”
“Really?” Landon still sounds doubtful, and I hate him more.
“Yes. Right away. I was taken,” I say, dusting a kiss to her cheek just to prove how taken. Also, because I can.
“That’s sweet,” Gretchen says in her milquetoast tone, but clearly buying it.
“And then we started dating,” Skylar says.
“Where did you go? On your first date?” Landon doesn’t want to let up on the grilling. Does this ass think he’s besting me? He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. I don’t relent. I push till the bitter end.
“We went to yoga,” I say, then shoot my fake girlfriend a lovey-dovey grin. “Remember that class?”
“Sure do. It gave a whole new meaning to hot yoga,” she says, with a purr in her voice and a dirty gaze just for me.
“So did the hot tub,” I add, then cuddle her even closer.
“But it was definitely when we went to my favorite consignment shop and touched the same couch at the same time, like—”
“Lady and the Tramp,” I cut in, because cute new couples finish each other’s sentences adorably.
“Exactly. That’s when I knew.”
I turn to Landon, puffing out my chest. “So, thank you,” I say. “If you hadn’t walked away from the best woman ever, I might have been—”
Gretchen emits a tiny shriek. “We’re out of champagne, Lan! I told you to get more. You never listen to me.”
“I do too,” he insists.
“You don’t.”
“You don’t listen to me.”
“Landon,” she seethes. “Now is not the time. You need to fix this!”
“You’re right. You’re right. Sorry.” With a frown, he surveys the table with empty bottles, eyes flickering with worry, whether for disappointing Gretchen or the guests it’s hard to say.
Aww. The poor, unhappy couple. I feel so bad for them. So bad I want to rub it in their faces.
“We’ll get you some,” I say, fixing it for them. And fine, we both have public images, so it doesn’t hurt to be a nice guy. But it really doesn’t hurt to show them how happy and helpful we are while they’re…bickering like rats fighting over sewer crumbs.
“Dude! You’d do that?” Landon asks.
“Of course. Sky and I—” I stop as if I just realized that rhymes, shooting her another lovestruck grin, before cooing, “We rhyme, baby.”
“We do,” she says.
I blink away the haze of happiness I’m floating on. “Where was I?” I clap Landon’s shoulder. “Right, bro. We love to help others who need it.” I drop my voice to a man-to-man whisper. “I can tell things are rough. We’ve got you.”
The second we’re outside, I say to Skylar, “I hope you don’t mind—”
“Us rubbing in how much happier we are?” she asks, like the prospect is sweet sugar on her tongue. “I don’t. Not one bit. Their sour relationship has turned out to be the best revenge.”