Page 28 of Feels Like the First Time
Ali gave a small roll of the eyes. “We both know there’s nothing more than friendship between us,” she admitted, the lie burning as it came out. “And I don’t want to lose that. Even for…”
He studied her for a moment, his expression impossible to read. “I don’t want to lose that either,” he finally said.
Ali felt light with relief, but her heart was heavy with the understanding that he was agreeing. Confirming what she knew to be true: whatever it was between them wasn’t strong enough to withstand more.
“Good, because you’re my friend,” she admitted quietly. “And I don’t have too many of those in my life.”
“Me either,” he whispered, and Ali wanted to laugh.
Not only was he respected around town, but he was revered for his warmth, humor, and loyalty. If there was an Everyone’s Best Friend Award in town, Hawk would be the lifetime recipient.
“You’re right,” he said with that laid-back grin of his. “You are good at pretending. Just stick with that dreamy look you have going on and no one will question that you’re hot for me.”
Ali laughed, surprised at how he could lighten the moment.
“You might want to work on that.” He pointed to her smile. “Anyone seesthatand they’ll know it was a lie and I’m going to look like the asshole who was using his sister-in-law to get back at his ex. And then every time we’re seen together, people are going to whisper.”
Ali sobered because there was the flaw in her self-preservation plan. Preserving their friendship—and her heart—meant calling off the charade. But the charade was the only thing saving Hawk from another year of people thinking he was still hung up on Bridget.
“How do we fix this?” she heard herself ask.
“Like we always do,” Hawk said, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in. It was a comfortable position they’d sat in a thousand times over the years. That it still felt safe gave her hope. “You pretend that my attention annoys you, and I keep flirting with you. Only this time you get to flirt back. And at Friday night dinners, instead of bringing you cider, which I know you hate, I will bring you Scotch.”
“Yes on the no more cider, and maybe we should hold off on the family dinner nights until Bridget leaves. I don’t want to make it harder on my dad, and the last time you showed up, shit went south—fast.”
“Funny, I thought it was finally starting to get good,” he said, and Ali elbowed him.
“Fine,” he said, blaming the sharp pain in his side on bony elbows, and not disappointment. “But that means you owe me a dinner night once a week.” He held up a hand. “Don’t hug me yet, I know you’re excited, but there’s more. I will cook you those dinners at the bar, and you will bring pie for dessert. Instead ofbarmaidorpansy ass, you’ll need to find a sweeter endearment for me, such asbabeorboo.”
She looked up at him. “Boo?”
“Just a suggestion. You can usesex godif you prefer. And I get to pamper you, and you don’t have to pretend you hate it anymore.”
“That’s a lot of rules.”
“Rules are important,” he whispered.
“And what do you get out of this arrangement?”
His smile went wicked. “To see you in that dress.”
