Chapter 7 #2
Marisa’s eyes darted from the soda to his mouth and back again.
Alec’s misstep quickly sank in, nearly choking him. Fuckin’ hell. I just shared her drink.
The act had been as natural as blinking, a common occurrence when he visited his brother.
But he wasn’t with his brother, and the woman whose soda he’d just tasted wasn’t his actual girlfriend.
“Shit. I’m sorry about that. Force of habit when I’m in the States. I don’t tend to spend much time with people outside Cal. Not since . . .”
There was something inherently wrong about letting Phoebe invade the space between them, a space that had become a war room infused with basil, oregano, and the pleasant yeasty aroma of hand-tossed dough.
All kissed by a lingering sweetness where Marisa’s mouth had been that he couldn’t quite put a name to.
And he’d gone and soured it all already. Wonderful.
“Let me get you another.” Alec rose to go to the fridge, but Marisa stopped him.
“There’s no need. Like you said, if we want this to be believable, we need to start acting the part, right? Couples share drinks all the time.”
“Right. Sure.”
Alec had never been more grateful to have a middle-aged man’s belly almost push him into a wall of windows.
“Here you are, babe, for you and your friend. Now, eat these first,” Enzo said, pointing to the slices he’d placed in front of them.
“The undercarriage isn’t going to stay that solid for long.
” Then he plopped down a plate of garlic knots and marinara that Marisa hadn’t asked for but beamed at seeing regardless.
“The knots gotta get eaten, too. They’ve been sittin’ a bit. ”
Marisa stood and kissed Enzo’s cheek. “What would I do without you?”
“Probably eat more of that fast food shit.”
Marisa grabbed the Parmesan, then clarified, “Enzo believes the only true types of fast food are pizza or Chinese. Everything else deserves the shit designation.”
Alec smiled. “Well, he’s not wrong.”
“See?” Enzo said, tossing a greasy thumb at Alec. “I’m not the only one who knows what’s what. By the way, your mother stopped by and told me about the party.”
Marisa halted a marinara-coated garlic knot inches from her lips. “She did?”
“Hand delivered us invitations and everything. Don’t worry.
My brother and I won’t embarrass you by showing up.
I got teenagers. I know the drill. But I didn’t know your birthday fell on Hanukkah this year.
Let me know if your mother wants to borrow some more cannoli tubes again.
Last year, she wanted to fry her own and try those out instead of the doughnuts, but she backed out for some reason. ”
“That was probably because of my Aunt Gail. She always likes to be involved in the holidays,” Marisa said, twisting her lips in distaste.
“Ah. All kosher then?”
“Yup.”
“Cool. Let me know if you need anything.”
Marisa held up her garlic knot in mock salute. “Will do.”
Turned out, Alec needn’t have worried about his earlier cock-up. All that awkwardness itching beneath his skin had been steamrolled by the even larger embarrassment of his incorrect holiday assumptions.
“It’s a Hanukkah party we’re to go to,” he said, wishing he could have kept the surprise out of his voice. “And your birthday. That’s the combined party you were talking about.”
“Again, guilty,” she said, wiping her fingers on a napkin, doing all that fidgeting fluff he was used to seeing her do whenever she was uncomfortable.
Bloody hell. That was the last thing he wanted her to feel, especially around him. It’d never crossed his mind that she might be Jewish and celebrate a different occasion altogether.
“It’s my thirtieth,” she added into the shameful space of his overly loud thoughts.
“Yes, it falls on Hanukkah this year, and my family is using it as an excuse to express their disapproval over both my career choice and lack of significant other this far into adulthood by setting me up with my aunt’s neighbor.
It’s going to be absolutely awful”—Marisa took back her soda and fiddled with the can—“except for the fact that I told my mother I had a boyfriend and was going to bring him to the party.” Then she pinned Alec with a battle-hardened gaze that would have been better served in a combat zone instead of a pizzeria.
“This is our first mission. And while we’re there, we’ll take tons of photos, post them to social media, and start getting people excited for who and what we’ll be offering at the Crystal Christmas Ball. ”
That warbling echo of hope rang through her again, and damn if Alec didn’t want to capture that sound and keep it safe from being stomped into silence.
Even if he was the lumbering oaf who’d nearly crushed it to begin with.
The only problem was that he knew as much about Hanukkah as the average American knew about rugby. It couldn’t be that hard to learn the basics, though, especially if he were to put on a show of dating Marisa.
Besides, one thing he did know a fair bit about was being charming and adaptable. For better or worse, those skills had done him a great kindness over the years, and he saw no reason not to employ them on Marisa’s behalf.
“I think it all sounds like a solid plan. I confess, though, you may have to catch me up to speed on a few of the traditions.”
Marisa swiped her hand in avid dismissal. “Oh, no worries there. With any luck, we’ll be able to duck out of there after candle lighting. The main tradition with my family, unfortunately, usually involves me avoiding everyone as much as possible.”
“Even when you’re the birthday girl?” Alec tried to let some of his enthusiasm shine through in his grin, hoping to at least somewhat smooth out the crease between her brows that had been a near constant guest during dinner.
When the worry remained and she stayed silent even after he stole one of her garlic knots without her swatting him away—which, though he only knew her a short time, somehow seemed like a very Marisa thing to do—he attempted a different approach.
They were, after all, in a battle strategy session, were they not?
Alec took a nibbled pizza crust dangling from Marisa’s hand, set it on her plate, and linked his larger fingers between hers.
That earned him a soft inhale and a delightful spark of surprise flashing through her brown eyes.
“If it’s a possessive boyfriend you’ll be needing, someone to scare away the scrutiny of doting family members and the attention of other men, that’s a role I can fill wholeheartedly.
I know a thing or two about intimidation tactics.
That and I’ve yet to meet a mature woman I haven’t managed to win over.
Don’t know what it is, but females of a certain age tend to love me. ”
A ghost of a smile pulled the corner of Marisa’s lips a hair higher. It was just enough for Alec to both consider it a win and find encouragement to do better. He’d have her fully smiling by the time the party hit, he was certain.
“It’s the brogue/bicep combo,” Marisa said, hiding the slight amusement he’d managed to coax out of her with another bite of pizza crust, though she still kept her other hand entwined with his, he was happy to see.
“I’m sure the blue-hairs love that stuff.
Remember, Sean Connery was their James Bond for most of their hormone-fueled years. ”
Alec slapped his hand on the table. “Then it’s James Bond I’ll be, except without any of the smoking, womanizing, or persnickety drink preparation requests. There. It’s all settled.”
Marisa shook her head. “You’re crazy.”
“No, I’m your boyfriend. At least for the time being.”
As they enjoyed the rest of their pizza and garlic knots, Alec couldn’t help but shake his head in amusement at what he’d agreed to.
Or how a greater part of him was actually looking forward to starting their dating rumor.