Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“It is,” she says.
We pop into a gourmet market down the street, grab two bottles of champagne, and return to the board game shop.
As we’re heading in, the guy with the mustache, checked shirt, and snappy vest strides in our direction.
Purposefully.
He stops a foot away. His smile is warm but professional. “Hi there. I’m Ryan Goldberg with San Francisco Neighborhoods,” he says. “I took a picture of you two earlier and I’d love to run it, with your permission.”
Wow. I’m not used to lifestyle reporters asking. When I was with Brittany, a few pics of us out and about had appeared here and there—I knew this only because my mother would call and say did you know you and Brittany are on the socials? But no one asked our permission most of the time.
“Is it okay with you?” I ask, turning to Skylar.
“Absolutely,” she says. After a pause, she fiddles with her bracelet before she finally asks him, a little sheepish, “Do you need my name too? Or just Ford’s?”
With a smile, Ryan shakes his head. “I know you. You’re Skylar Haven. I listen to your podcast,” he says, then turns to me. “And, Ford, you must be Sexy Reno Guy?”
I’m not easily surprised. Comes with the territory of being a pro athlete. But…this? This was not on my bingo card. “Excuse me?”
Skylar sets a hand on my arm, squeezing my biceps. Is that Focus she’s squeezing? I’m not sure but she’s sending a message, and it says, shut the fuck up. “Yes,” she says. “He’s Sexy Reno Guy.”
There’s a story there, and I’m going to get it out of her tonight.
Ryan looks to me. “Great. And will Skylar be at your next home game?”
Oh.
Oh.
Oh hell yes. Like a good teammate, Mister Friendly Neighborhood Reporter just set up the perfect pass. I snag the puck and shoot.
Because…I don’t want to stop faking it with Skylar. I just don’t.
I wrap my arm around Skylar, possessively. “Of course my girlfriend is coming to our game against Phoenix. Want another picture of us?”
“I’d love one,” he says.
I smile for the camera one more time.
Ryan thanks us and we move on, heading toward Landon and Gretchen, who are chatting with another couple by a display of Clue board games. Fitting. The dude needs a clue. The other couple peels away as we arrive, and I hand him the cheap bottle of champagne. “For you.”
“Thank you. You saved my ass,” he says, then his voice pitches up. “Maybe we can hang sometime?”
I smile, but it’s my media grin—the kind I reserve for asshole reporters. “I’m busy.”
As if to emphasize my point, I drop a quick kiss to Skylar’s cheek.
She shudders, then says to Landon, “Yes, he’s very busy with me. Good luck with your store.” She nods to the champagne. “And cheers! Be sure to have a toast on us.”
I reach for her hand, and we leave, but not before Gretchen whisper-seethes to Landon, “Great. Your perfect ex-girlfriend had to save us. Of course.”
Skylar squares her shoulders and struts out, looking like sin and mine for tonight. Or, really, for a little while longer since, thanks to the game she’ll be going to and the gala. It sure looks like she’s my fake girlfriend.
Outside on the sidewalk, I waggle the bottle of the good stuff. “The expensive one’s for us. I want to hear all about this Sexy Reno Guy.”
“I bet you do.”
“In fact, I’ll make you a deal.”
With an arch of her brow, she says, “I’m listening.”
“We drink it in the hot tub.”
“The same one where you spied on me?”
“You love that I spied on you.”
Her jaw comes unhinged, all over the top. “I could say the same to you,” she says. It’s cute how she pretends she’s outraged.
“And you’d be right,” I say, admitting that much.
Her lips curve up. “Then I accept your offer.”
Warmth spreads through my chest, chased by something that feels dangerously like happiness every passing moment with her. I drape an arm around Skylar as we walk away from the shop, heading into the next part of the night.
“By the way, I didn’t want to take any chances. So I made sure the plant would smell,” she says, with an impish grin.
Color me intrigued. “How’d you do that?”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “I sliced up an onion and put it in the plant.”
I stop in my tracks, shaking my head in amazement. She’s deliciously nefarious and it’s going to my head. I drop a kiss to her pretty mouth, murmuring, “You’re so evil, and it’s outrageously sexy.”
24
AL FRESCO DINING
SKYLAR
I dip a toe in the bubbling warm water while Simon watches me with avid eyes from the floor of the deck—upper deck, really.
“I’m surprised you let him into your home,” I say.
“Yeah, me too,” Ford says, then shoots me a stern look. “He’d better not try a thing.”