Page 41 of The Fake Husband Play
But before I can make a detour to my overnight bag to hunt down a brush and some lip gloss, Grammercy glances up, his expression brightening as he spots me on the other side of the glass doors. The genuine pleasure in his gaze instantly makes me feel like something special, even in grungy moving clothes.
This man…
What am I going to do about him?
And those eyes? And that smile?
And the way just being in the same room with him makes me ache for things I haven’t ached for in way too long?
“Hey,” he says, as I step through the doors into the warmer air outside. As they glide automatically closedbehind me, sealing in the air conditioning, he asks, “Is Mimi already asleep? She swam hard.”
“Yeah, she went down fast.” I laugh. “After telling me a bedtime story about Princess Nutria and her alligator buddy defeating a terrible rat king with beady red eyes. I have a feeling rats are going to be the bad guys in her stories fora while.”
“Same.” He shakes his head. “I knew I shouldn’t look at the wall while I was grabbing her stuffed animals. But I did, El. I looked. And man…”
He shudders, an over-the-top, full-body twitch that makes me laugh as I say, “No! Why did you do that? Now you’re never going to get it out of your head. You’ll be seeing squirming bodies and slithery pink tails in your nightmares for the rest of your life.”
He arches a challenging brow. “Says the woman who looked.”
I shrug, still grinning as I say, “Well, yeah. I couldn’t help it. I had to see if it was as bad as the woman who ran screaming out of the room said it was. And…it was. It really was.”
“Itsowas,” he says in a haunted voice that for some reason has us both laughing again.
“Well, at least we’re at the laughing about it stage,” I say, once we’ve both caught our breath. “And on the upside, you’ll never forget your fake wedding night.”
“I was never going to forget it anyway,” he says, the sudden seriousness in his voice making my lips tingle.
Muststop thinking about that kiss.
For real.
Now.
“But you’re right. It’s been a memorable day all around.” He sets the remote down on the bar to the rightof the small pool and circles behind it. “Want another beer? I think a courthouse wedding, packing with a side of rats, and sweet-talking a little girl out of the pool an hour before she wanted to get out of the water is grounds for two Monday night beers, yeah?”
“Yes, please, you’re an angel,” I say, sagging onto one of the wide lounge chairs with a view of the city.
“Just returning the favor,chère.” He appears beside me with two bottles of Abita, the same kind I offered him earlier, condensation already beading on the glass. “Thankfully, we both have great taste in beer.”
I smile as I accept the bottle. “We do. I like a solid, ordinary beer. The expensive stuff tastes like grass to me.”
“My friend, Parker, says the same thing.” He settles onto the lounge beside me with a laugh. “I think he said IPAs taste like cat piss, not grass, but…not far off.
“Parker as inLeoParker, former star forward for Carolina?” When he nods, I shake my head, the surrealness of my new life hitting me all over again. “Wow. I wonder if it’s ever going to feel normal that you’re friends with people I used to watch on television.” I take a pull of the cold beer, enjoying the soothing rush of the bubbles down my throat.
“Used to?” he asks, playing up his irritation as he adds, “I hope you’re still planning on watching, woman. The season hasn’t even started. We can’t afford to start losing fans already.”
I roll my head his way with a smile. “I’ve been watching hockey since I was in diapers. No way I’m jumping ship now.” I shrug a teasing shoulder, “I mean, unless you guys suck, then…”
Grammercy makes an outraged sound and pokes myfoot with his before insisting, “Arrête donc ça, ma belle, tu vas nous mettre le mauvais œil dessus.”
I laugh and pretend that hearing him speak French doesn’t make me tingle in places way more scandalous than my lips. “No fair, my French is terrible,” I say, my voice breathier than it was before. “I heard ‘stop’ and ‘bad’ in there, but Papa didn’t speak Cajun much. Not with anyone but his bar buddies, anyway. And I wasn’t allowed to hang out there.”
“That’s a shame,” Grammercy says. “We gotta keep our culture alive. Cajun people are a dying breed. I always promised my mama I’d talk bayou to my babies when they were little, make sure they picked it up young.” He motions my way with his beer. “I basically said, ‘don’t jinx us.’ Don’t give us the evil eye.”
I hum beneath my breath. “That fits, especially with the Voodoo team name. The mascot is perfect, by the way. A creepy little voodoo doll with a hockey stick is…chef’s kiss. I’ll be first in line to buy a T-shirt. People are going to love it.”
He grins. “I think so, too. A couple of my mama’s friends were offended. Said it wasn’t respectful of the religion, but my mama’s half-Haitian and she loves it. She thinks it celebrates the culture in a good way.”
