Page 11 of Honey Sunshine

“Itwasa Nespresso machine, but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named stole it,” Zach grumbles, throwing himself into the chair.“When I thought he couldn’t slither any lower, he went and proved me wrong. Argh, just thinking about him gets me riled up.”

I offer a small smile, taking the seat across from him.

“Hey, at least you got the last laugh the other night.”

Instantly, his face lights up and he huffs out his chest.

“I would kill to have his expression framed on my wall.” He considers, tapping below his chin for a moment. “No, probably right here in front of my desk, so I’d never forget the moment of sweet revenge.”

For some inexplicable reason, the thought of him tinkering with the idea of putting another man’s photo on his desk—even for that reason—doesn’t sit well in my stomach. Fake boyfriend or not, I don’t want him paying attention to another man.

“There’s a saying that putting up a photo of your ex-boyfriend or your enemy can bring bad luck, so I wouldn’t recommend it.”

There is no such saying.

He stares at me for a beat.

“Really?”

“Yep, but let’s not dwell on someone who isn’t worth your time. Let’s eat,” I declare, reaching into my bag and pulling out two lunch boxes. I watch as he freezes momentarily, looking at the boxes and then upward at me.

“You . . . made me lunch?”

“I did. I hope you like baked honey salmon.” I wink at him as I open the meal prep, quelling my nerves. The more confident I act, maybe the less weird he’ll find this. When he continues to gawk at me for a moment, I can’t help but laugh. “Do you like the surprise that much, Honey?”

“Yes. Maybe. I mean, yeah? What sort of fake boyfriend makes his fake significant other food? You shouldn’t have donethat,” he huffs, brows knitting together. “Now I feel bad. You didn’t have to, you know.”

I slide the container to him and then the fork and knife.

“I know, but I wanted to. Is that so wrong?” I ask. “Plus, I told you that my whole family, including me, loves to cook. However, if you do feel bad, make sure to eat everything then. I want to see if you really do have a bottomless pit of a stomach that can rival a black hole.”

“I’m beginning to thinkyoushould be called Honey instead,” he grumbles, stabbing the fork into his salmon. I don’t miss how my heart skips a beat, but I can’t even tease him back before he takes his first bite and his eyes grow wide.

“Holy shit, this is amazing.”

I chuckle, as a wave of relief washes over me. It would’ve been horrifying if he didn’t like my cooking. And shocking. “I’m glad you think so.”

It’s as if I might snatch the meal right out of his hands, the way he eagerly gobbles it up. His cheeks puff out like a little hamster, and there’s a sparkle of excitement in his eyes that I can’t resist. I can’t help but watch, entranced, as he joyfully devours every bite, savoring each mouthful with childlike delight.

Dammit, he really is making it hard for me to control myself.

“Okay, so what’s the game plan?” Zach asks.

I snap out of my thoughts, pressing my lips together as I take a tissue to wipe away the quinoa on his face without thinking much of it. However, I don’t miss the way his shoulder tenses slightly.

“What plan?”

His lips pucker outward, and the temptation to kiss him is right there.

“Uh . . . you know . . . for this weekend . . . ?”

Shit!

Get it together, Harvey. You’re a thirty-seven year old adult, not some hormonal teenager.

That instantly sobers me up and I clear my throat awkwardly. “First and foremost, I told Mom this morning when she called that you run an advertising firm, and I met you when I came to talk business.”

“Okay, that’s true. Nothing we need to lie about there,” he says between a mouthful of food.

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