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Damn him. He’s covered every angle. I rack my brain, but I can’t think of any other way to get my uncle to agree to move into a nursing home.
I hold out my hand. “Deal.”
“Deal.” We shake, and I ignore the tingles erupting on my skin from contact with his. This is fake. It isn’t real. It’ll never be real. I don’t date bad boys anymore.
“Now finish your goodies and I’ll tell you all about the band.”
I make a face. “I don’t listen to rock music.”
“If you were my real girlfriend, you’d know about the band.”
He has a point. “Go ahead, fake man of mine. Tell me all about your life. I’m dying to hear it all.”
Unfortunately, I’m not lying. At least, not completely. I am curious about this man sitting in front of me. I do love me a bad boy.
No. No more bad boys.
No more men.
I’m on a break from them.
Now to get my hormones on board.
Chapter 6
Couple – a word that causes nervous tremors in a certain rockstar
Gibson
I scan Leia’s backyard where the party is in full swing. We’re celebrating her forgiving Fender for being an idiot and the two of them becoming a couple.
Couple. The last thing I want to be is in a couple. Except I’m supposed to be pretending to be in one. Where is my country girl anyway? I’m anxious to see her.
I pull out my phone and message her.
Come to the party.
When she doesn’t respond, I text again.
Please.
When she still doesn’t respond, I bring out the big guns.
You promised.
I’m getting annoyed – she did promise to attend social events with me as my girlfriend – when she messages me back.
Fine.
Even her texts are full of sass. Usually, I don’t care what a woman has to say. There’s no need for talk in the bedroom. With Mercy, it’s different. She’s different.
I’m here.
At Mercy’s message she’s arrived, I hurry to intercept her. As I round the house, Mercy steps out of a classic Dodge Charger. The car is black and in pristine condition. I whistle.
“Are you whistling at me or the car?”
I wink. “Can’t it be for both?”
