Page 37 of The Fake Out

That’s all it took for the crease between his brows to disappear and his shoulders to lower. In the space of a breath, his eyes were back to shining with the sparkle that was so intrinsically Emerson.

“I like you too, Gianna,” he said softly, squeezing my hand.

Those words, coming from the guy who was just my fake date for the night, settled way too deep in my chest.

“It’s so cool, the way they take the little balloons and make them look like sparkles and stars.” He’d relaxed by the time we pulled up in front of the zoo, as if he’d simply taken me at my word. It was the honest truth. I was happy to just be with him.

I ran my hands over the tight red material of my dress, willing myself to settle. The huge sign above us that read Boston Zoo was probably the biggest piece I’d ever completed. The way the animals peeked out from behind the letters made me just as happy today as it did the day I’d finished the design. But obviously, I was riding a high caused completely by the fact that my work was on display in downtown Boston.

“You did good, Mariposa.” With a smile, Emerson squeezed my hand. “Really damn good. Be proud of yourself.”

We stopped there for a moment to take pictures for his mom and sister, and once he was satisfied with the number he’d taken, we wandered under the silver, gold, and black balloon arches and into the event.

“What’s your favorite animal?” he asked as he surveyed the table cards and picked up two with puffins on them.

There was no question that the theme for the players’ table would be that bird. I swore every one of the guys was obsessed with Puff. The bird had become an honorary member of the team after my brother had accidentally hit him with a pitch last year. It was hard not to love the Atlantic puffin. Even I had to admit the little guy was adorable. And currently, everyone was on puffin baby watch, because any day now, Puff was going to become a daddy.

“Wait…” Emerson grabbed a card with a python off the table. When I’d called Jake a month ago, asking about what animal the firm would want, he’d insisted on the snake. His favorite. How fitting that an image of the slithering, shudder-inducing creature was printed beside his name. Although the comparison might not be fair to snakes. They’d never done anything to warrant being associated with him.

“Are you telling me the name of this place is actually douches?” His eyes were wide. “I thought Chris was just messing with you all this time.”

“It’s Doucette,” I corrected.

He blinked and then started to chuckle. “Douches.”

“It’s Da-shh-eee-ttt.” I rolled my eyes.

With a yank, I took Jake’s card out of his hand and put it back on the table. Of course Jake wouldn’t be here yet. The man loved to be fashionably late. He thought it made him important to have people wait on him. My brother’s head had almost exploded last Thanksgiving because Jake had been an hour late and hadn’t even bothered to apologize when we had to hold dinner.

Continuing my perusal, I scanned the rest of the cards, quietly admiring my own artwork.

“Why did management choose a duck for their table?” I asked when I noticed the mallard printed on each place card.

“Beckett loves them.” Emerson tucked the two cards into his inside jacket pocket. “Rumor has it he slept with a stuffed duck until he got married.”

Squinting, I waited for the grin or a laugh. But his expression remained neutral. Seriously? The broody billionaire had slept with a stuffed animal for forty years? “Are you messing with me?”

Emerson’s only response was a smile.

“No way.” I shook my head.

He shrugged. “Just what I heard. You still haven’t told me—what’s your favorite animal?”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever really thought about it.” I perused the area, stopping on the sign I’d created for big cat alley. “Maybe a leopard.”

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he rocked back on his heels and nodded. “Capable. Independent. Fierce. Just like you.”

“I don’t know about that.” I chuckled, pushing away the slight discomfort that ran through me in response to his compliment. “They’re graceful in their movements, though. I like watching them. How about you?”

“I can’t pick one.” He lifted his chin, zeroing in on my brother, who was standing across the room with a black bird on his shoulder. “Puff’s one of my favorites, of course,” he said confidently. “But I love bears. They’re so much fun to watch. And monkeys.” His eyes widened. “How could anyone forget the monkeys? They’re crazy. And giraffes. Ever fed a giraffe?”

I shook my head but chuckled at his excitement. Of course he couldn’t pick one. To Emerson, just about everything he encountered earned his awe. That outlook on life was so foreign to me, but it was hard not to admire him for it.

As we walked farther into the zoo, the area opened up into a beautiful, wide wooded space. Fake trees, flowering bushes, and rocks served as decorations and created an atmosphere reminiscent of an enchanted forest.

“Wow, it doesn’t even look like the zoo anymore,” Emerson said.

About fifty tables were decorated in black and gold and silver, just like the balloon arch, and beyond them was a dance floor and a stage. On one side, several tables were loaded with cellophane-covered baskets. And in each of the four corners was a bar. The scene was gorgeous, and since it was a clear night, the stars, although few and far between because of the city lights, shone above us.

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