Page 75 of Second Down Fake

“Of course I did. You won, in triple overtime. You kicked the game-winning shot.”

His laugh rumbled. My stomach warmed in response. “Close. We won in normal time, and the defense ran in a scoop and score for the win.”

“I don’t know what that means, but yay, Breakers.”

“You’re a terrible fan. You know that, right?”

“Well aware. How many did you score?”

He sighed heavily, exhaustion seeping into his voice. “None. I blame the lack of points on the absence of my good luck charm.”

“Good luck charm? Hardly. You win and lose on your own skills, Salazar. No dragging me into your subpar performance.”

“It’s hard to concentrate when you aren’t in the stands.”

“Worried about me?”

“A little. You didn’t hang out at my house tonight.”

“I’m at Becca’s apartment. I walked some dogs earlier and it wore me out.” His low chuckle warmed my body. “Hey, you just had to stay out of reach of some big guys and throw a dumb ball. I had to corral a Doberman through downtown.”

“I’m not arguing. You’re clearly the physical superior in this relationship.”

“Fake relationship,” I corrected.

“Currently fake relationship,” he lobbed back.

“When are you coming back?” I asked, pushing myself off the couch and pacing the living room.

“Tomorrow morning. I hoped you’d be at my house when I got there.”

“I’ve got a tile install tomorrow,” I said, pausing to gauge his reaction.

“Sounds like fun. My place when you’re done?”

“It might run late.”

“I’ll make dinner.”

“You don’t cook.”

“I don’t cook well. There’s a difference.”

“Not if I have to eat it,” I laughed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Cassandra. I miss you.”

He hung up the phone before I could respond.

TWENTY-FIVE

CASSANDRA

I sat on Diego’s couch, a slice of pizza in one hand, a beer in the other, and the controller balanced on my knee. Diego sat down on the center cushion, his thigh pressing my leg and his arm draped over the back of the couch.

“You sure you don’t want this?” I asked, holding out the goopy mess of a slice.

Despite the tingly feeling from his body touching mine and an entire week of intense sexual frustration as Diego ramped up his campaign to make me his girlfriend via intense flirtation, I’d held firm. No fucking. No dating. No kissing.

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