Page 26 of Second Down Fake

“Oh, Lonny makes a great martini. You sure you don’t want a sip?”

I raised an eyebrow. “The owner?”

The guy had served me dozens of beers and never offered his name or told me he owned the place.

Cassandra nodded. “Yeah. Did you know he’s owned this bar for forty years? He said in the eighties, downtown was nothing more than dirty movie theaters and prostitutes, but then gentrification. Luckily, he owns the building.”

“It took me twenty minutes to get here,” I said, shocked that she’d gotten more information from the owner than I had in three years. “Have you been coming to this place since you moved into town?”

She cocked her head. “Nope. First time. I was bored, and a little anxious. I talk a lot when I’m anxious.”

“What could you possibly be anxious about?”

Gliding her finger along the foggy glass, she frowned, eyes on the olive in the drink. “I’m planning a heist, actually.”

“A heist?” I barked out a laugh that earned Lonny’s glare.

“What’s funny about a heist?” Cassandra asked, barely keeping her face straight.

“Nothing.” I settled onto the bar stool, taking a sip of foamy beer. “Nothing at all. What exactly are we heisting?”

“I’m assembling a crack team,” she said with a grin. She shifted closer to me, dropping her voice. “I want to hit a casino. It’s on a blimp and it’ll be flying over the Breakers stadium during your last pre-season game.”

“So, naturally, I’ll be distracting the crowd with a game-winning play while you board the blimp.”

“No.” Her green eyes glittered and she raked a hand through her hair. My fingers itched to thread through her hair and pull her closer. “During warm up, I want you to throw balls at the blimp.”

I nodded solemnly. “What will that accomplish?”

“There’s an emergency exit under the blimp we’re going to enter the casino through, but I need the driver?” She paused, furrowing her brow. “Pilot? What do you call a blimp operator?”

“Blimot.”

“Oh, that’s terrible. How about a Bilot?”

“Blimaptain?”

“Aeronaut. I think it’s an aeronaut.”

I shook my head. “This seems like the type of minutiae you should know before you plan a heist.”

She shifted in her seat, knees brushing my thigh under the table. “Well, I’m going to level with you. That questioning attitude is the exact reason I need you on my team.”

“You’re not just using me for my exceptional throwing ability?” I asked, body swaying into hers.

Her hair brushed my shoulder as she tilted her head up, eyes locking with mine and her bottom lip slipping into her mouth for a second. “I was sort of hoping to use you for both.”

The heat in my stomach raced through the rest of my body.

She blushed. “The fake dating thing. That was silly, wasn’t it? That’s what you’re here to tell me?”

“I wasn’t,” I admitted. “But I was going to try to talk you out of it.”

“Talk me out of it? Why? It sounds ridiculous. Right up my alley.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and swiped the screen awake, navigating back to the website that published our picture. “Because, people suck, Cassandra.”

I scrolled to the bottom of the article, tapping the box that read “Comments” and pushing the phone toward her. “It’s going to be like this, and worse.”

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