Page 75 of Lace 'em Up

“It’s not what you think,” I blurt immediately, folding like a cheap suitcase.

He steps into the room, closes the door behind him. “What do I think?”

“It’s only to get his mom off his back with the matchmaking for a little while,” I say. “We came to an agreement. He helped me with Phillip, so to get his mom to lay off the blind dates, I’m providing…an anti-dating service?” The last is said like a question, even though it isn’t one.

To my surprise, Jean-Michel doesn’t explode, doesn’t scold me for being stupid and faking an engagement that is pulling the wool over a perfectly nice woman’s eyes, for lying to her when she doesn’t deserve that.

His head cocks to the side, stare fixed on mine. “That’s why you’re staying there?”

I blink.

“Why you’re staying at King’s house?” He lifts his brows. “The fake engagement.”

Right.

I don’t admit the fake engagement is a recent development, that the reason I’ve continued to stay with King after those first few days is a weird combination of not wanting to inconvenience Jean-Michel or Chrissy or Rome and…wanting to soak up more of King, more of the way he makes me feel.

Especially because he’s nothing like what I thought.

I nod so abruptly that I probably resemble one of those bobbleheads that the team gives away on random fan nights. “Yeah,” I say quickly. “That’s why.”

“Hmm,” he mutters, crossing his arms and leaning back against the doorway. “And I’m guessing that’s why one Mama Bang is currently in the lobby with a huge tray of brownies for you and the rest of the staff?”

My throat convulses. “I’m sorry what?” I manage to squeak out.

“Where’s my future daughter-in-law?” I hear echoed down the hall.

Shit.

“Please don’t—” I begin, but Jean-Michel shocks me by moving to my side, squeezing my shoulder lightly.

He bends down, stares deeply into my eyes, expression gentle. “All I’ve ever wanted is for you and Chrissy to be safe and happy.”

My heart squeezes.

Because Chrissy had been through so much.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” I whisper. “I’m fine.”

He exhales, tugs a lock of my hair. “I know,” he says. “You and my girl are always fine. Been through hellfire and back and you’re fine.” He shakes his head, pats my shoulder then mimes zipping and locking his lips. “For what it’s worth, I’m a vault.”

Relief floods me.

That’s worth a lot, a whole freaking lot.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “It’s just for a little while and?—”

Something dances across his face that has my brows dragging together.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head, turns for the door, but I swear that he’s gone from deadly to smiling and that…well, that doesn’t make any sense. “I’ll go get your future mother-in-law.”

I open my mouth to correct him, but I don’t get the chance because he’s opening the door, moving out into the hall.

He doesn’t get far, pausing just over the threshold, extending a hand. “Stella, I’m Jean-Michel. Your future daughter-in-law’s”—a look in my direction and I watch Stella move into the open doorway—“boss.”

“And my son’s,” she says with a laugh. She lifts the tray in her hands. “Brownie?”

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