Page 30 of My Fearless Fake Fling

We all broke out the major laughs. The throw-your-head-back-and-grip-your-stomach kind.

“Nah. No other girls like Kami,” Len replied. “Gonna have to fight me for her.”

Instead of fighting for me, Mr. Napolitano picked up the two boxes and headed out to the front of the store. We followed in step behind him, but when we got out to the front, he simply handed the boxes off to Len.

“Can’t get to my wallet,” Len said.

That’s when it hit me the boxes were too hot to rest on his bare arm. It would be too awkward to hold both boxes by the edges, he’d end up dropping at least one. I stepped forward to fish his wallet frim his back pocket.

The old store owner waved him away, anyway. “She worked. It’s payment.”

I mean, I hardly worked. I funned.

“Wow, thank you,” he said.

“Thank you so much,” I said too.

Rita handed me off a plastic bag with the wordNapoliprinted on the front in the same green from the awning. “You just be sure to bring her back, Leno.” Then she turned to me. “Antipasto salad and breadsticks. Enjoy.”

“Oh my gosh, you guys, this is too much.” I began to protest even as they shoved me out the door to keep from having to hear my protests. “Thanks, again,” I called back.

We walked back across the street to the truck and I waited for Len to bleep the locks to unlock it. I climbed in first and took the pizza boxes from him after I buckled my seatbelt. They were scalding hot on my lap.

I know I wore a pinched, wincing face when he climbed in because—hello?Hot.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Burning… It’s burning my lap.”

“Shi-ite.” He did it again, corrected himself for me and reaching into the backseat of the cab, he rummaged around until he pulled a jumpsuit out from the floor behind his seat. “Lift,” he ordered.

And I lifted the pizza boxes. He messy-folded the clothing and laid it across my lap.

I set the boxes back down. Yes. So much better.

Finally, before he started the truck, Lennon stole a kiss. A welcomed sneak attack.

“Now we can go home.” He turned the ignition, shifted in to drive and fli-di-dipped out of the spot. Yes, I said fli-di-dipped. As in eased effortlessly. But I like my word better.

“They seem to really like you,” I said for no other reason than to make conversation.

“Well, they really liked you, too, baby. But yeah. I was having a difficult time a few years back. I ended up there one night to get out of the pouring rain. Mr. Napolitano talked to me for hours. Made pies with me.

“He and Rita took me in, had me over for Sunday meals with the family. Robert, or as they call him,Roberto, is one of their twenty-seven grandkids. That’s how I got into jumping. You know, his first name is actually Lorenzo. They started calling him by his middle name because he’s a junior and refused to go by ‘Lorenzo Jr.’, ‘Little Lorenzo,’ or any of those they tried to saddle him with as a kid.”

Talk about a small world.

And I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to be saddled with my father’s name. Of course, I don’t look much like a Jason, so…

“That’s an amazing story.” I desperately wanted to ask about his hard time, but if he didn’t go into it, it probably meant he didn’t want to share with a fake girlfriend. Some stories were meant for the real thing only. So I bit my lip on that. “Twenty-seven grandkids?” I asked instead.

“From how many kids? And I thought Ritawashis daughter.”

He chuckled through the turn, taking us back onto the main drag. “She looks good for her age, doesn’t she?”

“She looks good foranyage,” I countered and reached over to adjust the air vent so the pizza didn’t cool off too much before we got back to Len’s.

“She’s actually only ten years younger than Mr. Napolitano. They had eight kids together.”

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