Page 26 of Crushes to WHAT

Eris eyes me suspiciously.

“It’s new,” Emerson cuts in. “She’s still getting used to it. Getting swept off your feet can be a little disorienting. You understand.”

“Not really,” Eris says slowly. She squints at the two of us, then our table, then the metric ton of food in front of Emerson, then the metric almost-ton of food in front of me. “Hm.”

“If you wouldn’t mind…” Emerson suggests pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t believe you,” she says, plainly, ignoring his pointedness.

I take offense. “I could be his girlfriend,” I defend. Wince. Correct. “I am his girlfriend.”

Emerson, with far more confidence, affirms, “Almond is my girlfriend, and we’re on a date, and you’re interrupting. Rudely. And if you don’t go away, I’m telling Mom you were impeding the quick delivery of grandchildren.”

At the mention of babies, I break. Pure, unfiltered panic escapes me in the form of a loud, barking laugh. I cover my mouth, but it’s too late. I’ve already drawn the attention of, oh, the entire freaking building.

Behind the bar, Fox narrows his eyes at our table, then tilts his head.

I wave him off. “No worries over here!” I call. “Nothing to see! Back to it, people!”

Predictably, the people do not back to it. The people have never once backed to it when ordered to, so I don’t know why I wasted my breath trying.

A strangled, deeply anxious noise emits from my throat.

“Right,” Emerson says, calm and confident and a touch exasperated. “Well, now that you’ve forced me to mention family planning way too early in the relationship, I think it’s way past time for you to scram.” He emphasizes his point by putting a large, tan hand on Eris’ stomach and pressing, pushing her away from the table.

Although Eris is almost a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter than her brother, she stands her ground with the practice a lifetime of brotherly shoves provides.

“Fine,” she says. “But I want you both to know that I don’t believe you. At all. Even a little bit.” She points an accusatory finger at Emerson, then me. Her version for me has the illustrious addition of a stink eye.

I grimace.

She strides away from our table and sets up at a high-top table across the bar floor to watch us, eyes narrowed and scowl affixed.

I turn to Emerson.

I stare at Emerson.

I think really, really hard.

I think so hard, for so long, that Emerson shrugs and dives into his food, gracing me with the occasional twinkle of his thoroughly amused eye, but otherwise letting me have my think.

Eventually, finally, I figure it out.

“Oh my freaking freak,” I whisper, befuddled bemusement sliding off my face to make room for flabbergasted shock.

His eyes flick up and roam my face, roving over wide blue eyes and pale white skin. His brows rise. “Yeah, baby? You figure it out yet?”

“I did,” I declare, a smile slowly pulling at my mouth. “Oh my freaking freak!” I squeal. I lean forward over the table, and he leans, too. When he’s close enough that I’m sure the entire bar won’t hear me, I whisper-yell the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

“We’re fake dating!”

Chapter Thirteen

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Oh, fine. You can have one chapter in his POV.

Emerson