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“Why are you my fake girlfriend?”
“That was you taking my bait. This is strategic, Ryder,” Elliot says, sliding a hand down the buttons of my dress shirt. The move is slightly disconcerting and I don’t know why. Her touch is something that slides down beneath the skin to nestle warm against my bones.
“How so?”
“I slap you like an outraged girlfriend, we have words. Your mother spreads the seed of your reform with who you’re dating. There are photos of it, and…the latest scandal? This helps put the final nail in that disappearing. A woman was mad you didn’t want her back. You went home alone, and I turned up so if someone was watching, it all plays out in your hands.”
“So you believe me now?”
She shrugs again and takes the champagne back from me. “She was mad. Like I said.”
“Okay.” I’m not sure I believe her.
But she looks divine, and someone I’m happy to have on my arm. If I’m a little turned on, well, who could blame me? It’s been a while—for me—and she looks delicious. More than that, she’s intriguing and this time I’m not talking about just her mouth.
“Besides.” Elliot stares down into what’s left of the champagne. “No one’s going to believe you went for me for the usual reasons. It’ll be seen as a step into maturity, into the role you want to inhabit.”
I laugh.
“Just pretend.”
“First, no one’s going to believe I’m that mature.”
“I know what I look like, Ryder. No need to keep going.” She checks her watch. “We should get out of here—”
“Wait.” I take her arm and she stops right before she starts to spin away.
Elliot sounds smooth, classy, untouchable, but I can’t shake the feeling I insulted her.
“You look good tonight. Like someone I might go for.”
“Ryder.”
Her voice is a warning I ignore. I can get out of any situation, and this is a no brainer. She looks pretty under her usual severe hair and clothes. “I just meant you look pretty. You should wear your hair like that more often.”
“And smile?”
“Well…” I stop. “That’s a trick question.”
“No, it isn’t. I’m talking commonsense.”
I breathe out. “There are beautiful women who’d kill for me to say that.”
“That it’s a trick question?”
“That they look pretty.” She stiffens and I know immediately that was the wrong thing to say. Shit.
“We should go.”
“Elliot.” I catch her free hand and draw her closer. “It was meant to be a compliment.”
“Implying the rest of the time I’m ugly?” Her cheeks flush high. “I’m not fishing for compliments. I don’t need them or your practiced words.”
“I don’t practice that shit.”
“I should go.”
“All I meant,” I say, having another go, “is most women like it. That’s all. And I do not for the life of me know where I’m going wrong. Are you an alien?”
