Page 18 of Rule 3: Never Fake Marry the Coach's Son
He goes rigid. “What are you doing?”
“You’re cold. I warm you.”
“But—”
“You are trembling, Oskar.”
His skin pinkens, the pale color invading his cheeks and making everything soft and adorable. His wide eyes blink.
Romantic music starts to play in the limo. Elvis, I think. The LED lights switch to pink.
His hands are smaller than mine, softer, and...
I drop his hands and scoot away, my pulse quickening. Perhaps friends don’t contemplate other friends’ hands. Perhaps they don’t warm them up either. I give him a wobbly smile, then grab hold of the champagne bottle.
“It was a long flight.” I focus on refilling his flute.
The limo bounces over a pothole, and the champagne spills onto his shirt. I pat it dry quickly, moving my hands over his slender body.
“That’s enough.”
The words come out more harshly than I’m used to, and I still.
He closes his eyes and drags his coat over his lap.
I shake my head and snort. “And you said you weren’t cold.”
He swallows hard.
“Is good I’m here,” I say, and I hand him back his champagne flute, waiting to make sure he actually sips it and doesn’t simply spill it over his shirt.
He turns and focuses on the view of the windows, and I lean back. I would rather he spend his time looking at me, but that’s a strange thought to have. Vegas is interesting to look at. I take a lengthy sip of my own champagne. The bubbles slide down my throat, and I refill Oskar’s and my glasses.
This is going to work.
Oskar and I will be married, and I won’t be sent back to Russia. And no Canadian will hit on Oskar either. I smile, thinking about next time we go to a party. Hopefully the Canadian guy will be back. I think about when he learns that Oskar and I are married, and my smile widens.
“What’s so funny?” Oskar asks.
“I thought you were looking at the view.”
“You’re practically vibrating.”
I snort, and this time I laugh out loud. “Was thinking about the Canadian guy’s expression when he finds out we’re married. Will be so funny. Must make sure Finn and Noah invite him to their next party.”
“You really despised him.”
“He’s not good enough for you.”
“You don’t know that. You didn’t speak to him.”
I scowl. “My fiancé is not going to be talking about another man’s good qualities on our wedding day.”
His eyes round, then he starts to laugh too.
The limo driver probably thinks we’re being ridiculous, but it doesn’t matter. I can always be ridiculous with Oskar. He’s my favorite person.
Finally, the limo stops in front of the jewelry store.
