Page 79 of On the Double

“What?”

“Do you really think you’re going to get my ass with that attitude?”

“No,” I grumbled.

“Remember, good fiancé.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Ten minutes later, we were at the diner in town, walking toward her grandparents and her brother, who was shooting me a dirty look.

“What did I do to Oliver?” I whispered to her.

“Don’t pay attention to him. Hey!” she said, hugging her grandma.

“Mr. Reynolds,” I said, holding out my hand. I smiled congenially at him, hoping I was doing enough to earn that ass fucking I wanted from her.

“Son, it’s good to see you again.”

“You too, sir.”

Son. It had been a long time since anyone had called me son. My own father hadn’t called me his son since the day I walked out of my house and enlisted in the military. But that was something I chose not to think about unless it was absolutely necessary.

I pulled out Harper’s chair for her, taking her by surprise, then tookthe seat beside her and rested my arm on the back, letting my hand dangle on her shoulder. Her grandma watched the gesture with happiness in her eyes, but her brother only scowled at me. If he kept doing that, he would fuck this up for me.

“So, did you two talk about dates last night?” her grandma asked as the waitress poured the coffee.

“Grandma, I told you, we might not get the chance?—”

“I was thinking a year from now,” I cut in, turning to smile at Harper in challenge. “Don’t you think?”

She was so stunned that she didn’t speak for a moment. “Um…that could work.”

“What about venues?”

“Patti, stop nagging them. You’ll find out all the details soon enough,” Chuck cut in, taking a sip of his coffee.

“A friend of mine has a beautiful back yard,” I added. “I think it would be perfect.”

Her grandma clasped her hands together happily. “A backyard wedding. I love it!”

I turned to Harper, my smirk increasing by the second. “What do you think, Pookie?”

Her cheeks flamed red at the nickname that had actually kind of become endearing. “Sounds beautiful.” Then she rested her hand on my thigh, and I knew things were about to get intense. “And I was thinking for the honeymoon, maybe we could go to Italy.”

“Italy?” I asked in surprise, nearly choking on my own spit. “Why there?”

“It’s just so beautiful and romantic. Don’t you think?”

And expensive as hell, but what did I know? Besides, it was all fake. “Sounds perfect.”

“You could take me on one of those boats?—”

“A gondola.”

“Right.”

“So, Venice.”

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