Page 32 of The Right Move

“It’s fine.” She rolls her eyes. “I need the extra cash and I get to talk to people in my car all night. That sounds like a dream come true to me.”

I can’t get into all the reasons I think this is a terrible idea right now, so instead I offer, “I’ll pay you whatever you’d make that night.”

She scoffs. “I’m not letting you pay me to be your date. I’m not an escort. Jesus.” She stands from her stool, leaving me.

Shit. Clearly the wrong thing to offer.

Circling her wrist, I stop her, softening my tone. “What can I do?”

“Nothing. It’s not that I don’t want to help you, but I can’t. Besides needing to work, you’re famous, Ryan. Like really fucking famous.”

“And you’re worried about making headlines.” Of course, she is. She saw what my sister went through last year.

“No. Not at all, actually. I think that’d be fun, but I just got out of a six-year relationship. If he finds out—”

“Good. Let him think we’re together. Fuck that guy.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

A moment of silence lingers before her eyes drop to my hand encasing her wrist. She doesn’t move for a moment, and I find myself using all my restraint to keep from circling the pad of my thumb against the soft skin of the inside.

She pulls away, and regret instantly floods me. What the fuck am I doing?

“I’m in my friends’ wedding coming up and so is he.” She takes a save-the-date card off the refrigerator, sliding it across the island. “I need to focus on finding a real date to this thing, not being someone’s pretend girlfriend. I can’t exactly be pictured with you for one night then take a random guy to this wedding. Anyone else will be a downgrade from NBA superstar Ryan Shay.”

I hold a hand over my chest. “Blue, you flatter me.”

“I’m serious, Ryan. I already feel like the laughingstock of my friends right now.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.” She shakes it off, replacing the card on the fridge. “Look, I’m so fucked up from Alex, that I can’t even think about being in another relationship right now or maybe ever, and I don’t know that I’d be able to fake that. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

I don’t know what causes me to say it. Maybe it’s the downturn of her lips or her sad brown eyes that I’m afraid will start watering soon. Or maybe it’s the thought of her ex assuming he’s come out victorious, but it slips out of my mouth before I have time to fully think this through. “When’s the wedding?”

“Why?” Suspicion laces her tone.

“Just answer the question.”

“February second.”

Pulling out my phone, I check my schedule. No games, home or away. I have practice, but I can get out of it.

“I’ll be your date for the wedding.”

She pauses before breaking into laughter, and it's deep and uncontrollable, coming from her core.

“What’s so funny?”

“You.” She sucks in a deep breath. “That was hilarious.”

I wait for her to calm the fuck down. “I’m not joking.”

Her smile is giddy and wide, the kind you can’t pull off your face after a genuine laugh attack. “Yes, you were.”

“Take the night off work. Be my date to the fall banquet, and I’ll be your date to the wedding. Try your best to fake it. That way this arrangement is mutually beneficial. If your little shithead ex is taking a date, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go alone.”

Her smile drops as realization hits her. “You’re being serious right now. Ryan, it’s one thing to lie to your GM, but it’s an entirely different thing to lie to my childhood friends. They know me too well. They’ll know we’re faking it.”

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