Page 57 of The Casanova Complex

Nope.

I walk over to the rickety table, pull out the chair, and sink down into it, then pull out my phone.

I’m so completely caught up watching a sports podcaster I love that I don’t even hear Merritt walk back into the room.

But then she’s there, slamming a thick stack of papers onto the desk in front of me, her eyes shining with something I can’t place. “I’ll be your fake girlfriend. But… only if you agree to the terms and conditions.”

“Let me guess… that’s the terms and conditions?” I nod toward the stack in front of me.

“Yup.” The p is popped, and she smirks, looking entirely too happy with herself. She turns the stack toward me, and I scan the first few lines.

Wait, this is a…

“Contract?”

“Congrats, you can read,” she mutters as I lift my gaze from the fucking contract sitting in front of me to meet hers. My eyes nearly come out my fucking skull when I start thumbing through the papers and see there are ten pages.

Ten. Pages.

“Read it, and then sign it if you want this to happen.”

A laugh spills out of me, earning me daggers from my future fake girlfriend.

This is fucking ridiculous.

And I love it.

“I’m sorry, but the fact that you drew up an actual contract for this is fucking hilarious, Mer Bear. You’re always giving me some required reading.”

She folds her arms over her chest and pins me with a look. “I’m a future lawyer, Goalie. What do you expect? This is a legal, binding document that protects us both. There’s a liability clause, as well as a breach of contract, and the boilerplate.”

I’m trying to read the legal jargon she’s got on here, but honestly, it’s just making my brain hurt, so I flip the papers shut and look at her.

“I can’t read this.”

“Well then, Google can read it out loud for you. Either way, if you want to do this, you’re signing it. So, you might want to figure it out.”

Always the damn ballbuster.

I exhale and lean back against the chair, keeping my eyes on hers. With her arms crossed over her chest like this, it pushes her creamy tits against the dip in her tank top, and I’ve gotta be honest… It’s distracting the shit out of me.

My brain does this weird thing where it skips a few circuits when she’s involved.

Obviously.

“I’ll sign whatever you want. But I wanna know what made you change your mind? Not that I’m complaining. Curious, is all.”

A small frown pulls at her lips as her warm eyes bounce between mine, and she shrugs, reaching up to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. “You… made some valid points.”

“Mmm. Yeah? That’s it?”

Her eyes roll. “And those showed up. Kind of just sealed the deal.” She gestures toward the side of the room, and my gaze snaps to the obnoxiously large bouquet of baby pink roses that are sitting on a table, already starting to wilt.

“Gauthreaux?” My brow arches.

Merritt nods, blowing out a sigh. “He’s such a fucker. I hate pink. And I hate flowers. Apparently even more things that he didn’t bother to pay attention to.”

Yeah. I’d say the two dozen pink roses definitely show that.