Page 70 of Fumbled Into Love

“Santi, please stop flirting with Nathalie’s boyfriend.” My dad doesn’t need to turn around to know what’s happening.

He releases Deon’s hand.

“Are any of your teammates single?”

“Lots of them,” Deon responds.

“Are any of them into men?”

“I don’t know.” Deon is handling this exceptionally well because I want to throttle my brother. Santi glances at me and shifts backward.

“Shame. Let me know if that changes.” He retreats to a safe distance where I can’t slap him upside the head.

I am not a violent person. Unless it’s my siblings, then it’s all-out war.

My mom gives Deon and me a quick hug.

“You can call me Margaret.”

Gracie's body slams my mother to stand in front of Deon. “You’re much hotter in person,” she muses. “I mean, Nathalie could have shared that her boyfriend—first boyfriend, by the way—was this hot and an NFL player. She is batting up.” Deon chokes, and I lose it.

“Gracie!” I step forward to…I don’t know, attack her or something, and her eyes widen, frantically searching for an escape. I’m an arm's length away from her when Deon grabs my hips, pulling me against his chest and trapping me in his arms.

My legs flail as I try to escape, and Deon wheezes with laughter.

Is Deon hotter than I am? Probably. Does Gracie need to point out I’ve never had a boyfriend, and the first one I’ve had is significantly hotter than I am? Absolutely not.

My body settles as Deon speaks. “Thank you for the compliment, but I’m the one batting up. Nathalie is incredibly kind and giving, and for some crazy reason, she’s chosen me.”

The silence in the room is heavy as Deon releases me. My father spins around with a smug smile.

“He passed,” he purrs, his Spanish accent thick. “You can call me Paolo.”

“Passed?” I whisper.

“We had to make sure he was worthy of you.” My dad waves his wooden spoon in dismissal. “He passed.”

“You’ll have to come to the next game.” Deon lounges on a barstool as my father cooks.

“I only watch real fútbol,” my father says dismissively. It’s another one of his stupid tests this evening. First, Gracie’s test. I thought he was finished when he asked Deon about his nutrition regime.

I was wrong.

My whole family is in on this nonsense of ‘making sure Deon is right for me.’ As much as I hate it, their idiotic behavior is working in our favor. They’ve spent so much time ‘testing’ Deon with insane questions and hypotheticals likeIf you had to choose between saving Nathalie or the president from Godzilla, who would you choose?They haven’t had time to examine the small intricacies of our fake relationship.

Like how every time he moves to touch me, he pauses, as if he’s forcing himself to do so to keep up the act.

“Real Madrid or Barcelona?” Deon asks. He turns slightly, winking at me.

My father gapes, and I have to force back a giggle.

“Real Madrid,” my father responds, attempting to play it cool, but the gears turn in his brain to determine how he can turn my fake boyfriend into a lifetime fan of his favorite team.

A soft knock echoes through the air, and my focus is fixed on Deon and my father when I hear a slight choking sound. I spin to find Gracie’s crush, Aaron, ready to puke, standing beside Declan on the front porch.

Huh?

“He—He’s. Mavericks. Oh my God.” Aaron’s going to faint, and Declan bites his lip to force back his smile.

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