Page 20 of The Fake Out

Dreamboat: You are savage.

Me: Thank you.

Dreamboat: We’re still having book club meeting tomorrow at lunch, right?

Dreamboat: I’m on chapter 10 and I have questions.

Dreamboat: That thing they did in chapter 9 on the plank. Is that even physically possible?

Me: Maybe you don’t have a good enough imagination.

I almost threw the phone across the room when it rang.

“Excuse me, I have a great imagination,” Chris said as a greeting. “I was even voted Most Imaginative in high school.”

“Your parents must have been so proud.”

“I’ll prove it to you. I’m imagining what you’re doing right now.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m talking to you, dummy.”

“Shut up. I’m imagining here.” He had a nice voice, deep but smooth. “Yes, I see it. You’re on your bed and there’s a cat.”

I sat up. That was a little creepy. “Why a cat?”

“Because you are definitely a cat person,” he said with certainty.

“Why does that sound like an insult?”

He chuckled. “It’s not. Cat people are discerning. They’re very selective in who they choose to hang with. You never want to mess with a cat person. They might seem quiet, but you never can tell what they’re thinking. For instance, you could be planning my murder right now.”

“Keep that in mind, Sterns. Let me guess, you’re a dog person?”

“I think that’s obvious. For one, I’m adorable. I’m willing to do a lot of things for food and I’m very loyal.”

“Don’t forget you both like to play with balls.”

His laughter was immediate and warm. Long after I hung up and crawled into bed, I could still hear it.

SEVEN

One actually great one I overheard at pirate day at the Renaissance Festival:

“Damn, milady, you’re putting the curvy in scurvy.”

—@INFIELDFLYGRL

“You cannot be serious.” I stared down at the new proposed budget Peter had slid across his desk.

He leaned forward in his ridiculous oversized leather chair and steepled his fingers under his chin like he was the freaking Godfather. “I think you’ll find we’ve been fair.”

“Fair? You want to cut the library to twenty-five hours a week.” Which was also reflected in my new proposed salary.

“Do we really need it to be open more than that?” He took a sip from the coffee mug on his desk which read WORLD’S BEST BOSS. He’d probably bought it for himself.

I was momentarily stunned into silence. Don’t worry. It didn’t last long. “Plus cutting my book budget by half?”

He frowned and ran a finger over his soul patch. No one should wear a soul patch, least of all a man-child with a weak chin. If I could go back to the day when I decided Peter was the man for me, I would kick my own ass for being infatuated with this guy.