Page 29 of Strictly Pretend

I look up.

“Like really, really like her,” Linc says.

I swallow hard. “No, I don’t.” And even if I did, nothing can happen. Not knowing what I know about myself. But Linc’s a damn romantic and he believes in happily ever afters.

“You were looking at her like you do,” he says, not giving up.

“I was looking at the title of the book. It amused me.”

“The book that’s right in front of her tits,” Linc says.

“Don’t mention her tits.” I frown at him. “That’s disgusting.”

“I tell you what, I won’t mention your girlfriend’s tits if you don’t look at my wife’s panties,” Linc says.

“Panties,” Rowan shouts out. “Panties, panties, panties.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I tell Linc.

“You want her to be your fake girlfriend. Why not make it real? You’re obviously into her.”

“I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t do relationships,” I say. Dammit, I don’t want to go over this again. “Or they don’t do me. Whatever. I’ll take her to this wedding, get her to move out of the building, and then everything will be good.”

“You were burned,” Linc says. “I get it. But you can’t let one poor relationship ruin you for good.”

He doesn’t know the full extent of it. Nobody does. And I’d like to keep it that way because some things should stay private. “Forget about it,” I say. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It obviously is, because you just came here to spill your guts about it.”

“I came here because I heard you were giving away free panties. I wanted to stake my claim.”

“Fuck off.”

“You fuck off.” God, we’re imbeciles. That’s another thing about being the youngest of six brothers – though at least I’m not the youngest in the family anymore now that we have a little sister. You end up acting the way you did when you were kidseven though you’re a grown adult. One with a demanding job and responsibilities.

“You fuck off,” Rowan repeats and we both turn to look at him.

Shit.

“I said puck,” Linc says quickly. “Like hockey.” He glares at me. “Stop teaching my kid to swear.”

“You did it first.”

“That’s not what I’m gonna tell Tessa if he says it again,” Linc warns. “So you better hope he keeps it zipped.”

“Zip zip zip,” Rowan sings.

Jesus, I’m getting a headache.

CHAPTER

EIGHT

EMMA

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