I laugh. “I’m flattered either way.”
She looks me up and down. “I think he was checking you out.”
“Yeah?”
“I bet lots of people check you out. You’re…I don’t know.”
“What?” I press.
“Never mind.”
“You can’t leave me hanging like that.” I arch a brow as she looks at me. “I mean, when we met at the deli the other day, your tongue was practically hanging out, so I know you think I’m hot.”
Rey rolls her eyes. “Please.”
“If you don’t think I’m hot, why do you think lots of people must check me out?” I ask, genuinely intrigued.
She hesitates and says, “You really want to know?”
“Yep.”
“Well, because you’re…pretty.”
My lips part with shock. “I’m pretty?”
She gives me a sheepish look. “Yeah. I mean with the blue eyes, and the way a few strands of hair fall over your forehead like it’s on accident even though I know you carefully put product on those pieces so it looks that way—”
I cut her off. “I do not put product in my hair, whatever the hell that even is.”
“Okay.” She puts her hands up in surrender.
“You think I’m lying,” I say indignantly.
“It’s your hair, so I’m sure you know the secrets to its prettiness better than I do.”
My laugh is definitely the pissed off kind. “You’re the only person in the world who’s ever thought I was pretty.”
“I doubt that. I mean, other people may not have said anything, but—”
“Because I have blue eyes?” I question loudly. “I can’t help the color of my eyes.”
“It’s not bad that they’re pretty.”
Now I’m the one rolling my eyes. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but pretty?”
“Loosen up, West. There are worse things to be.”
I don’t know why I’m so offended by this conversation, but I am. I really fucking am.
“You know what?” I turn to Rey with a pleasant look. “It’s such a nice night, why don’t we walk to dinner?”
She looks down at the heels she’s wearing and then back up at me. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
“No, I’m not walking to dinner.”
I’m starting to get Rey’s number. She’s the kind of woman who likes to call the shots. A ballbuster who always says what she’s thinking. And I want to establish up front in our fake relationship that I’m not putting up with her being the boss.
“Yeah, I think we passed my car a while back,” I say, scrunching my face into an obviously fake confused expression. “Or not. I can’t really remember which one’s my car, so let’s walk.”
Rey’s red lips form a straight line as she glares at me. “You really want to play it this way?”
“Who’s playing?” I challenge.
She nods and I can practically see the flames ignite in her dark eyes. “Okay, let’s walk, Jonah.” With a smile, she takes my arm and leans against me, giving me an adoring look as we start walking.
“I thought we’d hit a new place about…eh, maybe twelve blocks from here?” I say. “Maybe fourteen. No more than eighteen.”
“Dick,” she says in a low tone, her lips not moving.
“Or did you want to go somewhere else? There’s a great pizza place that can’t be more than twenty-five blocks from here.”
“You know what?” she says sweetly. “It’s not just your eyes and gelled hair pieces. It’s your whole face. I bet you wax your chest, crotch, balls—everything. Even your brows. You’re just a very pretty man.”
I smile at her, playing the game. “And you’re not so bad yourself. As long as your mouth is closed. Or otherwise occupied.”
After a single note of laughter, she says, “I’m sure some women like sucking off pretty dicks. All smooth and hairless. I prefer big, hairy ones myself.”
“You like to floss while giving head?”
She shrugs. “I just like manly men. Big, six and a half foot lumberjacks with chests full of dark hair who can pick me up and fuck me any way they want.”
“Yeah, I’m not manly at all. I get the shit beat out of me on the ice all the time. I’ve got scars all over my body from skate blades, pucks and sticks. I’ve had a few concussions. Full sleeve of tattoos. I smoke cigars and drink bourbon. I’m practically a fucking fairy princess.”
Rey sighs softly. “Look, can we start over? I didn’t mean to offend you, and clearly I did.”
I sigh, too, because while I’m pissed, she sounds sincere. And it would be best if we could at least get along during our fake relationship. Plus, with her so close to me, I can smell her perfume, and something about it is softening me. I haven’t smelled a woman’s perfume in a really long time.
“Yeah, okay,” I say. “I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up.”
“I’m sure you get all the ass you want,” she says soothingly.
A laugh busts out of my chest. “You’re not like other women, you know that?”