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“What…?” I feel my throat close up.
He briskly shakes his head. “Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have said all that. But what I want you to know is, I know what I’m getting myself into. And even though things won’t go anywhere between us, I’ll settle for one night with you on my arm. By my side. Go to that gala with me, Nadia.”
“You’re going to end up disappointed,” I warn, my voice hoarse. “And I don’t want to hurt you when you don’t get what you want. It wouldn’t be fair to you.” Because I can’t reciprocate what he’s feeling. I can’t let myself.
“I have no expectations. Promise. I’m going into this night with my eyes wide open.”
A big, loud, scary part of my brain tells me I can’t trust him. Of course he has expectations—he just kissed me, for crying out loud. But my soul…My soul is telling me that Harry is the most genuine man I’ve ever met. That I can trust him.
He examines my face for a long moment, then he takes a step forward, coming at the situation from a different angle. “Let me suggest this. Let’s just forget that I’ve been a simpering fool for you for the past however many months. Let’s just go to the gala as friends. Just friends sharing an inside joke.”
“An inside joke?” I ask skeptically. “And again—since when are we friends?”
Rolling his eyes, Harry drapes a long, heavy arm around me and I sink against his side under the weight of it. “Picture it, Dream Girl. We’ll walk into that gala together looking like a million bucks. We’ll talk and we’ll laugh and we’ll slow-dance all night. We’ll have your dirty ex convinced that we’re a hot commodity,” he says, staring into the distance, painting a visual for me on the screen of space, his large hand gesturing wildly, “that I’m the doting man in your life, that you’ve never been more loved and cherished than you are now.” With each word he speaks, I burrow deeper against his side. He glances down at me, excitement gleaming in his dark gorgeous eyes. “Let’s go all in. Put on the absolute best act we can. But we’ll know the truth—that our relationship is nothing but a one-night sham. What do you say?”
Wait—how the hell did I wind up clutching the front of his shirt and fluttering my eyelashes up at him? Logical Nadia can’t explain what’s happening here.
Disengaging myself from his hold, I put distance between us and search his face. “You’re sure you can handle that?” I ask, hearing the shake in my own voice.Even after we kissed?
“Of course I can handle that. I’m a professional athlete. I can handle pressure. I can do this, I swear.” He holds out a pinkie finger to me.
This is such a dangerous proposition.
I bat his pinkie finger away. “Fine.”
My expression must still be doubtful because Harry lowers his face to mine and says, “Trust me on this, Nadia. I can handle it.”
Okay, cool.
But now that I’ve felt his lips on mine, the bigger question is, can I?
13
HARRY
“Hey, can any of you cover my opening shift on Sunday morning?” I toss over my shoulder as I lay loaves of bread dough on a baking tray.
I’m on window duty this morning. And I’m trying to ignore the duo of early morning joggers flashing me their flirtiest smiles from the sidewalk just beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass.
I’ve never really liked window duty, but it’s an important part of Grammy’s business strategy. Parading her big, muscly grandsons at this work table in front of the huge window overlooking Main Street has always been the cornerstone of her ‘marketing plan’ to draw buyers in through the front door. And since I’d do practically anything for Grammy, here I am, parading away.
In any case, I’m in a spectacular fucking mood today.
The replay of kissing Nadia has been on loop in my head for the past twelve hours, sending jolts of electricity through me every few minutes. This can’t be good for my health. Anyway, it’s confirmed—I’m going on a date with my dream girl.
I know, I know. Nadia would slice off my balls with a cookie cutter, decorate them with rainbow sprinkles and hand them to me in a Wildberry Bakery paper bag with a napkin and a smile if she heard me referring to our gala rendez-vous as a date. But she can’t stop me from calling it a date in my head, okay?
And it’s going to be the most epic date ever.
These past few days, it’s been killing me, having her phone number and not being able to call her every second of every day. But I’m doing my best to keep my cool. I don’t want to make any wrong moves and mess things up between us before the big night.
Jasper balances Sparkle on his hip, while sprinkling raisins into the batter he’s mixing up with his other hand. “Sorry, bro,” my brother says, not looking sorry in the slightest. “Emma’s book deadline is coming up. She had writer’s block again last night. Let’s just say my manly region will be working overtime this weekend.” When he says that, he flashes at least fifty-six of his teeth.
Show off.
“What about you?” I ask Cash, passing him my bread trays so he can pile them into the oven.
“Wish I could help but I’ll be in Chicago all week. Shareholders meeting.” He shrugs. “Plus, I’m still searching for a wedding present for Meghan.”
