Page 76 of Faking It Right
She beamed at the praise as everyone echoed their appreciation. “I’m glad I at least did one thing right tonight. Now, tell me more about playing cops and robbers.”
Harley’s eyes sparkled as he gestured with his fork. “Instead of arresting Ryker, I ran off with him to start a ranch in Montana. We raised horses and the eyebrows of the scandalized locals as two unmarried male ‘friends’ living together.”
Sawyer snorted before taking a bite of her dessert. “What about that time you were both knights from opposing kingdoms?”
Harley set his fork down in his enthusiasm. “Yes! Ryker was the stoic knight with a secret soft spot for poetry, and I was the flamboyant one who stole your heart. A match made in a bard’s dream.”
Mom dabbed at her eyes, her own slice of cake barely touched. “What about that time during the Roaring Twenties? You might have been speakeasy owners.”
He warmed to the theme. “Ryker ran the classiest joint in town, all polished wood and crystal glasses.”
“And Harley’s place was the wild one where anything goes,” I suggested, scraping up some frosting. “With feather boas and bathtub gin that could strip paint.”
“We fell in love during a police raid,” Harley continued, savoring another mouthful of cake. “We escaped through the sewers holding hands.”
“Romantic,” Sawyer deadpanned, suggestively licking chocolate from her fork, giving a pervy wink that made Gia her girlfriend snort.
“What about when you were both part of a traveling circus in the 1890s?” Dad suggested, surprising us all. He was always a fast eater, so his cake was almost completely gone already.
“Dad!” I exclaimed. “Not you, too!”
He shrugged, looking pleased with himself. “What? You’re not the only ones with wild imaginations.”
“I love it,” Harley declared, gesturing with his half-eaten cake. “I was obviously the daring trapeze artist.”
“And I was the reluctant strongman who was afraid of heights,” I added, scraping more frosting from my slice.
Harley disagreed with a perverse gleam in his eyes. “Nah, you would have been a sword swallower.”
I held my hands up in surrender. “I’m not even touching that.”
“Quite scandalous for the 1890s,” Gia joked.
Sawyer lit up with excitement. “Oh! I’ve got one. You were both explorers in the 1930s, racing to discover a lost city in the Amazon.”
“Competing expedition leaders,” Harley agreed. “I was the reckless American with more charm than sense.”
I got caught up in the game despite my protests. “And I was the serious British academic who thought you were insufferable.”
“Until we got lost in the jungle,” Harley continued, “forcing us to work together to survive.”
Mom sighed dreamily as she finished her cake. “Finding not just the lost city, but true love.”
“What about as chefs competing for a Michelin star in 1950s Paris?” Dad suggested.
Harley pointed his fork at me. “You were the traditional chef who followed every rule.”
“And you were the audacious upstart who drove me mad by breaking all of them,” I countered.
“We had a dramatic food fight in your kitchen that culminated in us having sex on the prep table.” Harley gave a satisfied nod at the conclusion.
Sawyer snickered. “That’s definitely a health code violation on multiple levels.”
“Worth it,” he replied, setting his empty plate and fork aside.
“You two are disgustingly cute,” she said, but her smile was genuine.
Harley feigned a swoon. “I know. It’s a burden we bear.”
