Page 58 of Fake Date with the Mountain Man

“I’ve been single for a long time. Sometimes I need a little extra inspiration,” I admit.

“Well, we can always do it again…with more spanking next time.”

“I think we’ve pushed our luck enough for now, but speaking of the office: can I ask you a favor?”

Ryan nods.

“Can we keep this between us for now? At least at work? I need a little bit of time to get used to it before everyone else knows. Plus, Abby will kill me if she has to hear it from Hunter instead of me.”

“Of course,” Ryan says in a sleepy voice.

A pang of guilt shoots through me. I’m always the one holding us back from the next step. If Ryan weren’t so patient and persistent, who knows if we would ever make any progress at all?

Chapter 20

RYAN

My dad’s wife, Cheryl, is as midwestern as they come. She pronounces ‘bag’ like ‘beg,’ says ‘ope’ whenever she bumps into someone, and seems to have an endless supply of casserole recipes. All of them involve a can of cream of something soup, and all of them are terrible.

Tonight’s casserole: salmon and rice.

Cheryl sets it in the middle of the table and takes a seat next to my dad. None of us reach for the serving spoon sticking out of the side.

“Well, dig in!” Cheryl chirps.

My dad is the first brave soul. The serving spoon taps against the layer of burnt cheese on the top, eventually cracking it like crème brulee. Underneath, a thick layer of black olives is revealed, followed by a grayish sludge of canned salmon and undercooked rice.

Every Christmas, I consider buying cooking classes for Cheryl, but I’m always worried it might insult her. This might finally be the year though.

We all take our first bites with bated breath and then chew exactly as many times as we absolutely have to in order to swallow it without choking to death.

Kevin is the only one who doesn’t seem to mind Cheryl’s casseroles, presumably because he grew up eating them. He’shalf done before the rest of us have summoned up the will to take a second bite.

It’s my dad’s birthday, but he doesn’t like any fuss about it. Instead, all of the dinner conversation has revolved around the wedding, since we haven’t all been in the same room since then.

This is the moment when I should be announcing that Marlow and I have broken up if it all went according to plan.

Luckily, it didn’t.

Our carefully laid plan was shot to hell the moment I touched her. And now, it’s been two weeks since we officially started dating. Aside from a few minor stumbles in the beginning, it’s been pretty perfect. Marlow is finally letting her guard down around me…and it helps that we are having more sex than I thought humanly possible.

Just never at work again…though I can’t say I haven’t tried.

Between thoughts of Marlow and our phenomenal ability to have sex on practically any surface, I am grinning like an idiot when I notice Blair glaring at me expectantly.

Then I realize that the whole table is quietly following suit.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, Cheryl’s voice is echoing, and I realize I’ve missed a question aimed at me.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask as I force another bit of casserole past my lips.

It’s a huge mistake. Now everyone’s attention is on me and I’m involuntarily wincing through the process of delivering this hellish muck to my stomach.

“I asked how things are going with you and Marlow,” Cheryl repeats.

“Oh, right. Things are great.”

“Really?” Blair asks with one eyebrow tilted. “Aren’t you worried that things might be moving a little too fast with her?”

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