Pretend You're Mine (The Protectors 12.50)

“What?” he practically yelled as his horrified eyes sought out mine. “No! No, of course not.”

“So, you are asking me out?” I clarified.

“Yes… no…” he huffed. He was so confused I just had to smile to make sure he knew I wasn’t upset. He finally took a breath and relaxed. His smile seemed to light up the entire world and if I hadn’t put a moratorium on men in general, I would have fallen for him then and there just based on how cute he was when he looked chagrined.

Hmmm, maybe I needed to rethink that moratorium.

“I mean, it’s not a date date,” Devon said.

He was on the step beneath the one I was on, so our faces were nearly level. I could smell his aftershave or cologne, and it was all I could do not to press my nose against his neck and inhale deeply.

“I just didn’t want you to have to go by yourself.”

Disappointment jabbed at my frantically beating heart. “Oh,” I murmured.

“I’m not… that is, I don’t…”

I nodded in understanding. “You’re not gay.” I dropped my eyes as I tried to pull my ridiculously rampant emotions together.

“Sebastian, I—”

“No, it’s okay,” I said as I forced myself to smile up at him. He looked embarrassed. The whole thing had turned from obscenely sweet and cute to painfully awkward. “I’m okay to go by myself, really. But it was really nice of you to think of me like that. I’m sure you have your own Valentine’s plans—”

“My Valentine’s plans are the same as they are every year… trying to convince one family member after another that I really don’t want to be the third wheel on their dates,” he joked. “So see, you’d be doing me a favor. If you don’t let me escort you tonight, I’ll probably end up squeezed between my parents on their couch watching black-and-white romances while my parents look lovey-dovey at one another and sneak touches when they think I won’t notice. Last year my mom and dad both played footsie with me beneath the blanket we were sharing before I had to tell them they were feeling up their kid and to knock it off. Do you have any idea how much therapy I’m going to need to forget that?”

I began laughing because I could totally picture Devon’s expression as his big body was squashed between his overly affectionate parents. “Well, we can’t have that,” I agreed. “So it’s a non-date date.”

“Yeah. It’s a we-don’t-need-no-stinking-Valentine’s-Day-dates date. We’ll go to that fundraiser, you’ll schmooze, I’ll watch you adoringly all night whenever Asshole is nearby and then we’ll go do something that’s actually fun.”

It was a bad idea.

But mostly because I really liked the idea.

Who wouldn’t like having a gorgeous guy on their arm pretending that you were theirs, that you were the only thing who existed in their world?

Yeah, bad idea.

Devon’s smile began to fade as I remained silent. I put out my hand and said, “One condition.”

“Deal,” Devon said without hesitation.

“I want my flowers back.”

The blinding smile reappeared, and my entire body sparked to life. I was sure I’d come on the spot when his fingers touched mine and lingered as he returned the flowers to me.

Moratorium, Sebastian, my brain reminded me.

But all my heart could ask was, What moratorium?

Chapter 3

Devon

“Do you want to take your car?” I asked as I tried to fight back the jitters while I waited for Sebastian to lock his front door. “Or do you want me to drive? I only have my work truck,” I added as I motioned to my pickup truck in my driveway.

“I, um, actually don’t have a car,” Sebastian said. “I usually take the bus.” He turned to face me.

He looked nervous.

Was he nervous about me? Or his performance? Or seeing his ex? Or something else?

“Your car is fine,” he said, forcing a smile to his face. He’d taken the flowers I’d brought him inside, so he only had a small black bag in his left hand. He took a few steps forward, but when he reached the steps, I put out my arm encouragingly. I’d seen him limping pretty badly when he’d gone to take the flowers inside.

Sebastian paused, then put his arm through mine. “Thanks,” he said softly. Butterflies danced in my belly, both from the way he was looking up at me and the feel of his slim arm tucked in my bigger one. On the one hand he looked so delicate, but on the other, I knew how strong his body had to be to have been a professional dancer.

“I suppose I should get one now that I live in the sticks,” Sebastian mused as we took our time maneuvering down the steps.

“The sticks?” I said with a laugh. “Downtown is like twenty minutes away.”

“If you live in a place where you can’t get Chinese food at two a.m., you live in the sticks, Devon.”