Page 72 of Second Down Fake

“I didn’t ask you to forget.” She tilted her head up, crossing her arms. “We shouldn’t have slept together.”

“But we did.”

“But it’s not happening again.”

“Why not?”

Cassandra sucked in a breath at the question, and my stomach tumbled. Why not? Sure, the contract complicated things. Her sister complicated things. My job complicated things. But over the last three days, I couldn’t come up with a single reason that we shouldn’t at least try.

“We have chemistry. We have fun. We work well together.”

She cocked her head, strands of tawny brown hair sticking to her damp skin. “What exactly are you asking me?”

“I’m asking if you want to give us a shot. If you want to date me. Not a joke, but for real.”

Her mouth opened and then closed again. Her brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and shock.

“What did you think I was going to ask?”

Her cheeks bloomed red. “If we should keep banging.”

“Well, I like that, too, just I’d like to do that in the context of dating.”

She pursed her lips, pushing off the washer and walking into the hallway, surveying the floor. “Do you have a fan? I’m afraid the water is going to warp the boards. Is this vinyl or wood?”

“Cassandra,” I followed her into the hallway, placing a hand on her elbow and turning her back to face me. “I don’t give a shit about the floors.”

“You should.” Her chest heaved, and her eyes danced around the room, looking for anything but me to rest on. “You can’t date me, Diego. You know that, right?”

“No. Why not? Are you married? Engaged? Dating someone else?”

Cassandra shook her head. “No. It’s just a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. This…” She spluttered, hand waving.

“The broken water heater? Floods? Home ownership?” I forced a grin onto my face, my tone more teasing than serious despite my sincerity that I wanted to date Cassandra.

“No.” She closed her eyes, tilting her head back with a strained smile that made me want to wrap her up in my arms even as my heart stayed glued in my throat until she agreed to a date. She gathered herself, squaring her eyes on mine. “What if you just like the idea of dating me?”

“I do like the idea of dating you.”

“No,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean, you like the idea of dating me more than actually dating me.”

“Impossible.”

“Very possible,” she countered. “Probable even.”

“Are you just coming up with excuses because you don’t want to date me?” My stomach clenched, but I kept the levity in my voice, teasing her into the conversation.

“No. I don’t need to come up with excuses when there are so many good ones.”

“Name three.”

“One: I signed a contract to pretend to date you, not actually date you. Two: my sister already has you on her shit list and you’d move into the persona non grata if you actually want to date me. And three: you just allowed me to find you a water heater, so I’m sort of your employee.”

“My HR department doesn’t have a policy on intrapersonal relationships.” She giggled, which felt a little like progress. I pressed on. “Alright, you have some valid points. I’m glad you’ve been thinking about dating me, too.”

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