Page 33 of The Fake Play

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t pull away. “I know, just give me a minute to adjust to the situation.”

I shake my head and chuckle, steering her toward the bar to order a round. “Let me guess, fun wasn't on the syllabus at public relations school?”

She cracks a smile, one much softer than her usual polished smirk. “They don't exactly teach you how to go with the flow when you're working for a fixer. Crisis management is less hands on than this.”

I lean in close, catching a whiff of her scent, a delicate floral mix that makes her entirely too tempting. “So it sounds like we both have something to learn tonight. How to go with the flow for you, and I get to pretend you're not my parole officer.”

“You make it sound so romantic,” she says flatly. “Don't push your luck.”

“What else are you supposed to do with luck?” I give her a wink.

A few cocktails later and she’s easing up. We stake our claim on a corner booth, close enough to the bar to catch the good music, far enough away to have space to ourselves and be able to hear each other talk.

Some of the guys from the team show up, Lucas among them, but I’m not going to let them interrupt our night. She’s finally loosening up, allowing herself to laugh and have a good time. I can’t help but get drawn into the way she relaxes around me.

“Kenneth? For real?”

She blows out an exasperated breath and whips out her driver’s license. “See for yourself.”

Sure enough, right there in black, green, and peach, her legal name shows as Kenneth Graham. “What the hell? Is English not your parent’s first language?”

“Something like that.” She tucks it back into her wallet. “I was a menopause baby?—”

“Wait,” I interrupt. “I thought menopause meant a woman couldn’t get pregnant.”

A devious smile curls her lips. “You sound worried.”

“Well… a little.”

“Who was she?”

“A very hot older woman I met on an airplane.”

Keke giggles. “Let me guess, you hooked up without protection, thinking you couldn’t get her pregnant.”

“I won’t lie, I did consider that.”

“Relax. Menopause babies usually happen when the woman thinks she’s in menopause, but she’s actually not.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “How does she not know?”

“It’s complicated, but basically menopause means she hasn’t had a period for over a year. After that, it’s highly unlikely to get pregnant. My mom was six months without one, so she and my biological father figured she was in the clear. Turns out, not so much.”

“I should call Genevieve but I never got her number.”

She smacks my arm playfully, laughing. “You really are a dog.”

I shrug. “Woof.”

“Anyway, my dad wanted another son like my brother. Hulking, intimidating, a man’s man.” She pauses, something deeper in her eyes, indicating there’s a story there. But I know if I dig she’ll shut down. “Michael had some issues when he was younger so our father wanted a do-over kid. That’s why they decided to have me. But when I came out with all the wrong parts, my father was undeterred.”

“What’s that mean?”

“He still tried to raise me to be the exemplary young man he wanted Michael to be.”

I stare at her for a moment. “So he named you Kenneth?”

She nods and sips her drink. “And he made me go hunting and fishing even though he knew I hated it. Taught me how to work on cars, throw a baseball, all the stereotypical guy shit. I didn’t even have a dress until I was old enough to pick out my own school clothes.”

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