“Still, that’s a fun bonus. Why turn down free arm candy? Maybe you could even use him to make other guys jealous when you go out,” Tori mused.
“I think you should go for it, Em,” Brooklyn said. “And since he’s hot, you should definitely bang him and report back. You’re young and single. Might as well make it fun.”
She and Tori laughed, and I tried to join in.
“I definitely willnotbe banging him, but I appreciate the advice,” I said. Then I changed the subject to the dessert menu, insisting they save room for the caramel pots de creme.
Obviously there was no way in hell I could sleep with Ford. That would be the real risk. Because I’d never confess it to The Wives, but the honest truth was…I still had my V-card. Giving it up to Ford would definitely not help with my Feelings.
But damn. Fantasizing about it couldn’t hurt, could it?
Emzee
Chapter 5
As soon as I woke up to Munchkin’s little head butting against my side, urging me to get up and give him his walk and his breakfast, I knew I was out of time. Today was the day I’d said I’d give Ford an answer by. And after ignoring his calls yesterday, I knew I couldn’t hide. I had to face him. Soon.
Drat.
Groaning, I rolled out of bed and let my furbaby lead the way to his leash, his chubby little butt wiggling with excitement. Sure, it wasn’t even 7 a.m. yet on a Sunday, but there were two males in this world that I couldn’t say no to—my French bulldog, and Ford Malone.
After making Munchkin sit and stay like a good boy, I clipped his leash to his studded collar and took him for a leisurely trot around the neighborhood. No matter how many times we took this route, he always seemed to get a kick out of sniffing the same exact spots. I spent most of the walk trying to psych myself up for the Talk with Ford.
Could I say no to him? Did I want to? What was the best course of action?
Would I have more regrets about not going through with this and missing my chance to “date” Ford, or about agreeing to the fake-dating plan and then having my heart crushed later?
In the end, there was no point in pretending I wasn’t going to go along with his foolhardy plan. I knew I could either own my decision and do my best to enjoy our short time as a couple, or I could spend the entire course of our faux relationship worrying about my emotions.
You got this, I silently pep-talked myself.Just have fun and keep your heart out of it.
Easier said than done, obviously.
By the time Munchkin and I were back at the loft, his attention fully focused on his food dish, I was as ready as I’d ever be. But I planned to make it very clear that this would be the last time. After this favor, things would have to change. I couldn’t keep thinking of him as my hero, and he couldn’t keep treating me like his wingman. We needed to be equals going forward. Assuming, of course, that our friendship managed to survive this farce.
I hoped Ford realized that a fake relationship could have just as many real consequences as a legitimate one, especially if anyone found out what we were up to.
Feeling like I was readying for battle, I dried my hair, pulled it up into a sky-high Ariana Grande ponytail, and then put on my Most Serious Makeup: my winged eyeliner, smoky shadow, three coats of super volumizing waterproof mascara, and a delightfully intimidating shade of burgundy lip gloss. Then I put on my power suit: black pinstripe with a matching vest and blazer that had slightly puffed sleeves. Instead of a button-up shirt, I wore a lacy camisole underneath that just barely peeked out from the V-neck of the vest. It was a combination of sexy and fierce; the outfit I wore when I needed the kind of confidence that I usually only got when I was behind the lens on a photo shoot. Time to kick someculo.
Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I dialed Ford.
“Hey!” he said, picking up on the first ring. “Glad you called. I couldn’t reach you yesterday.”
My heart leapt. “Yeah, about that. I was thinking we should talk some more.”
“Yeah, definitely,” Ford said breezily. “What’s up?”
“I, umm…” This was no time to be losing my nerve.
But then I heard the sound of other voices in the background. Where was he?
“Why don’t you meet me here at the club?” he said. “Tennis and lunch. You’ll love it.”
Then he hung up. Deflated, I looked at my reflection. So much for my makeup and outfit.
After swiping off my dark lip and toning down my eye makeup, I grudgingly changed into my tennis whites (thanks to my family, I did indeed own some). I might not enjoy going to the country club for sport, but I knew how to dress for it. Even if I hated wearing all this white.
I drove over, valeted my convertible, and then walked inside. It was easy enough to find Ford. He was sitting at the bar with a martini in his hand, and he wasn’t alone. Instead, he was surrounded by a group of guys, loudly holding court—all of them were laughing and drinking and having a great time. There was no way we’d be able to talk about our faux-lationship.
