Page 33 of Playing for Keeps

Val smiles at me. “Nailed it, right?”

“You’re outstanding, but please stop singing.”

Val loses his smile. “Wait, are you not loving the view? I mean I know for a fact that I’m exuding sex appeal. Look at those ladies getting lightheaded and the men suffering from self-loathing.”

I smile at his ridiculous confidence. “Of course, you look great. But people are trying to eat, and that song is killing the vibe in here.”

“Doesn’t this song turn you on?”

“No.”

“But you said...”

Tugging him away from the others, I nudge him into a chair at the back. “I appreciate you memorizing all the dumb shit I said when I was drunk that night. However, I was lying, and that song doesn’t make me horny.”

“What song gets your juices flowing?” he asks, admiring my breasts.

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Because it’s embarrassing?”

“No, I’m afraid you’ll sing it at me in the future.”

“I’m an excellent singer. When I do karaoke, I always get applause. Sometimes, women throw their panties and try to shove twenties down my jeans. I’m very talented.”

“No doubt, but I don’t want you to sing to me.”

“What if we’re naked in bed and I’ve sexually satisfied you?”

“Okay, then, sing away. But never at the restaurant where old people might die from your sex appeal.”

Glancing in the flushed women’s direction, he replies, “They’re not that old.”

“When you’re nearly shirtless, they are.”

Val flashes a cocky smile. “All of this,” he says and gestures over his body and face, “is natural. I didn’t even need braces to have perfect teeth. I have great genetics.”

My fingers slide under his chin, enjoying the feel of his rough whiskers. I’ve fantasized about watching Val shave. Hell, I’ve fantasized about talking to him through a door while he uses the bathroom. I’ve lived a whole lifetime with Val in my head, always believing none of those domesticated dreams could come true.

Soon, he’ll be my husband. Seeing him up close like this in my family’s diner shorts out my worries. I only want to know him better.

“Will you come to my house tonight for dinner?” I ask before adding, “No sex.”

“I can’t drive all the way home and then come back. It’s too tiring. I’ll hang out here until dinnertime.”

“And the sex part?”

“I plan to rock your world for the rest of our lives,” he says with complete sincerity as he holds my hand. “I can wait for a few weeks.”

My stomach flips at how soon we’ll be married. I brush my fingers through his hair and smile at how he grins at me.

“Are you a good cook?” he asks after giving the diner a quick glance.

“Sure. I’m working in the kitchen today since our cook is sick. On Sundays, I go to my dad’s house and cook dinner. I’m not a great chef, but I can make a lot of things.”

“I wouldn’t care if you were a terrible cook. I just want you.”

“And I don’t care if you’re a great singer or dancer.”

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