Steffi hesitated for a moment because it might be fun to go to a baseball game and actually watch it from the seats. She could take the bus from work, saving gas money and parking – and she had a Timberwolves T-shirt, even if it was the old logo, not the new one from three years ago. The ticket would be the priciest thing, but perhaps if she…
“It’s a yes or no question,” Drake interrupted her thoughts, glaring at her. “Would you like to see a game? Are you free? Is the grass green? – all require one single answer, one word, not a negotiation or whatever you’re cooking up in that shriveled brain of yours.”
“Oh, spare me the sweet words,” she shot back and glared at him. “I hope you hit a power line or fire ant bed digging…”
“I adore you too, Snookums,” he shot back – they both flinched, and both turned away to make gagging sounds before looking at each other in surprise that they obviously thought the same.
“This… farce,” Steffi spat, disgusted, “comes with zero baby names or gross lovey-dovey stuff.”
“Agreed – and I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but let’s go back to Douche Wanker. Never ever address me as Snookums or anything cutesy.”
“You got it.”
“So – are you coming to the game?”
“Maybe,” she hedged. It would be nice to get out…
“Maybe?” he pressed, waiting and watching her.
“I’ve gotta see what my check is first – you know, normal-adult-things like bills have to get taken care of first,” she shot back hotly and saw him rise to his feet, brushing off his knees where he had kneepads on them to work in the grass – or kiss someone’s butt – whatever…
“It’s my treat,” he said bluntly. “I’m inviting you to come, sit in the front row with the other families as my guest…”
Her breath caught in her throat at his words.
“You’re my fake fiancée, so you’ll need to look the part. I’ll get you one of my jerseys, money for parking, souvenirs, snacks, whatever you want… just come cheer for me and watch the game… if you are free.”
“Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t be asking otherwise.”
“Do you need receipts back for parking and my nachos?”
“Receipts?” he began, obviously confused, before his gaze darkened. “I don’t ever require receipts from you. Have fun, scream my name when I’m playing, and act the part – act like you’re happy with our arrangement. If we were really engaged, I’d take care of you all the time. You would never worry about a thing, ever.”
She swallowed as he took a step toward her, crossing the invisible border between their yards, garden knife and trowel in his hands. His eyes were hard with intensity… or was that something else?
“If this were real, if I were even remotely in love with you, then I would take it upon myself to make sure you knew it, that you knew how lucky I felt that you ever gave me the time of day. I’d fill your car with gas, so you never have to. I’d take the trash out. I’d wash your back when you soaked in the tub…”
Something shifted within her. Mentally, she could see them talking, existing, living together. She imagined this stern man walking into the bathroom, kneeling beside the tub, taking her washcloth and soaping his hands…
“So make no mistake that what we have is anarrangement,” he finished, snapping her back to reality. “I’ve practicallyhiredyou to be my fake fiancée for a few weeks, so you’re staff right now. Consider it payment for your time on Friday… and that’s it.”
His jaw was ticking, his eyes were unfathomable, and his hands were clenched on the tools like he was about to go into battle. She was breathless, her pulse racing, and the air practically crackled between them with intensity.
“I’d quit if I worked for you…” she rasped.
“You’d be fired if I actually hired you,” he shot back. “This is a mutually beneficial arrangement that can work for both of us. I’ll get the jersey in a bit, but how much cash do you need for the game – three hundred? Four?”
Her lips parted in shock.
“Five hundred?” he asked as she clamped her mouth shut hard enough to make a weird, hollow popping sound. “I don’t know how much any of that stuff is because I never paid attention. I just want you to have a nice time so we can be civil to each other in public. I want my image to show that I’m taking care of my soon-to-be wife, remember?”
“It’s whatever…” she said evasively.
“Fine,” he replied coolly. “I’ll figure it out and bring stuff over shortly. Do you need anything else?”
A pumpkin? Glass slippers? A magic wand?