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“It’s perfect, then. We’ll say we met during the Lunar New Year festival.”
“Last winter? Isn’t that a little quick to be engaged?”
I spread my hands, clenching my teeth.
“It’s believable. Look, we’re both busy people. It takes time to arrange dates, meet up, get to know each other so well that we’re exclusive. Say it took us two months to start officially dating—that puts us near a solid six months now.”
She folds her arms, but there’s a thoughtful gleam in her eyes. “Okay, maybe. If we both like art, that’s something…”
“Specifically, I like the way colors and shapes can convey meaning without needing to be spelled out in human dramas.”
“Oh, so you likemodernart.” She makes a face and laughs. It takes me by surprise. I don’t think I’ve heard her laugh at me before. Not like this, a burst of genuine amusement. “Well, we’d definitely have met up to discuss it if you spouted off something like that. Because I think art has more meaning when it’s relatable. Something you can tell was made by a person and not a robot.”
“Hard realism limits the imagination,” I urge, wondering how the hell I fell into debating fucking art.
“But faces are a huge part of feeling. Just look at American Gothic or Nighthawks—” She holds up her hands and shakes her head, a small smile on her lips. “Let’s save this for another time. We’ve still got an entire relationship to make up.”
“Yeah, so we met at the art gallery, argued about modern shit over drinks, and then we fucked a few times.”
Her mouth falls open.
“Don’t tell me you don’t believe in premarital sex, sweetheart? That’s typically what people do before they decide to seriously date.”
“N-no, of course not, I—” She’s stumbling. Red-faced. Adorably flustered. “How many times would you say we hooked up before we decided to make it more?”
“You think anyone will ask?” I snort.
“…for my own information.”
Is shetryingto kill me today? The way she bites her lip almost makes me think she wishes this part was real.
And it shouldn’t make my cock ache so much, especially when I remember how she’s a fellow workaholic and might just verge on celibacy like yours truly.
“Ten times,” I bite off.
“Ten? Isn’t that a bit much?”
“Woman, it wasn’t nearly enough if I liked fucking you. And it would’ve happened over two weeks before I decided I liked being inside you so much we decided to go exclusive.”
Her legs actually quiver, shifting apart.
“Excuse me. Dry throat.”
That’s my cue to spin around, grab a water, and pour half the bottle down my throat before I become a human fire hazard.
Fuck you and your big mouth. Stop talking about sex.
This isnothow it’s supposed to go.
“Anyway, after that, we decided to get serious. We made a real effort to fit each other into our busy schedules,” I say, finally facing her again with my inner beast back on its leash.
“Hmmm. Two things about that.” She holds up her fingers. “First, we stick to the details, and we act our hearts out. We don’t tell Nana one word about the business part of the deal. Call her old-fashioned, but she wouldn’t understand. She’d probably hunt you down and scramble your balls into a frittata or something.”
“Got it. I do like keeping my balls.” Though her grandmother may sense something’s up soon enough when Juniper starts remodeling with mystery money. “What’s number two?”
“You have to be…” She makes a face. “Serious about me.”
“I can handle that.”
