Jonah (Chicago Blaze 7)

But it does, and as soon as we get off, Jonah takes my hand again and leads me to a guy nearby with an easel set up in front of him. He’s drawing caricatures, and Jonah asks him to do one of us.

There’s only one stool, and Jonah doesn’t offer it to me. Instead, he sits down and pulls me onto his lap. I wrap my arms around him and we both look at the artist as he quickly draws us together.

I’m trained to notice things, and it’s not lost on me that the guy who was shooting photos of us at the restaurant is once again taking pictures of me and Jonah at the pier. My new identity won’t be a mystery much longer.

After the artist passes us a photo with exaggerated features that make us both laugh and deny any resemblance to our actual selves, Jonah and I walk through a few boutique shops and stop for ice cream. By evening, I realize it’s been the best day I’ve had in a long time.

“You have plans tonight?” Jonah asks me as we finish our ice cream cones.

I’m a little disappointed as I admit, “I’m having movie night with my roommate.”

“Another date soon?” he asks me.

“Yes. I had fun today.”

“Me too.” He tosses the wrapper from his cone into a trash can and takes my hand again. “I’m gonna Uber you home.”

“No, I can just get one myself.”

“I’m taking you home, Rey.”

“I’ve been getting myself home for almost two decades now.”

Jonah smiles. “It’s not that I don’t think you can, okay? I just want to.”

I concede and nod. Jonah orders an Uber through the app on his phone and we ride the short distance to Kai’s place. Once there, Jonah gets out with me and walks me up to the top of the stairs outside the building. He cups my cheek in his hand and kisses me with the same passion he showed earlier, wrapping his free arm around my waist and drawing my body against his. My heart is pounding hard and fast by the time he backs away, leaving me a little dizzy.

“How was that?” he asks under his breath.

“Amazing,” I say softly.

He leans his forehead against mine and says, “I thought so, too. We’ll be all over the news by tomorrow morning.”

My heart sinks with disappointment as I realize he wasn’t asking about the kiss, but about the date we staged to make our public debut as a couple.

“Thanks,” I say, forcing a smile.

“See you soon.” He grins and takes off his baseball hat, pushing his hair back before putting it back in its backward position. “Enjoy movie night.”

“I will, thanks.”

I go inside then, not looking back, and squashing the butterflies in my stomach, because none of this is real. My social life is so nonexistent that even a fake date while working undercover has me worked up. Ridiculous. This is only work. Nothing more.Chapter TenJonahI pick up my pace as I jog the block between my downtown parking spot and the deli I’m meeting Rey at for lunch. I hate being late, but my mom was so excited about me dating someone that I couldn’t get her off the phone earlier.

I was hoping she wouldn’t hear about it, but the photos of me and Rey from yesterday are everywhere. One of my mom’s friends called her to tell her, and my mom cried actual tears when I told her it’s true. I felt like a real asshole lying to her, but at least when the truth comes out I can blame it on my brother.

When I scan the seats at the small deli for Rey, I spot her at a booth for two people, and I make my way over there. Her face comes into view and I’m surprised to see that her eyes are narrowed and her lips are set in a thin line. She’s pissed.

“Hey,” I say, bending down to kiss her cheek before I slide into the seat across from her. “You okay?”

She continues to just glare, and I feel like a bomb’s about to explode inside her. Finally, she whispers, “Don’t look, but there’s a complete asshole in the booth across from us.”

“Did he say something to you?” I furrow my brow, fighting my urge to look at the guy.

“Not me.” Rey looks like she wants to murder the guy, her eyes dark with anger as she whispers. “His wife came in all excited and happy about her new haircut, and that motherfucker told her it’s too short and he jumped her ass about why she didn’t ask him before getting her hair cut. Can you fucking believe that?”

I glance over at the guy, who is ranting at the woman sitting across from him. He’s balding and looks like he’s in his 40s, with a doughy body and gray scruff on his face. The woman across from him is looking down at her lap, a curtain of dark, chin-length hair hiding her expression.