Page 78 of The Risk

I’m hit with a wave of uncontrollable giggles. “Was she wearing a negligee? Smoking one of those long cigarettes like Audrey Hepburn?”

“No, she was actually wearing a tracksuit. It was bubble-gum pink, and I think it said Juicy on the butt.”

“Oh my God, you fucked the mom fromMean Girls.”

“No idea who that is.”

I laugh harder, wiping tears from my eyes. “I can’t believe you fell prey to a cougar.”

“What’s wrong with that? She was hot, the sex was hot. Good times.”

He’s completely unfazed by my mockery, and that’s one of the things I’m grudgingly starting to like about him. He possesses a steely confidence that I genuinely admire. Nothing rattles this man.He’s so sure of himself, of his masculinity, his skill. Jake Connelly doesn’t have an insecure bone in his body.

“Wait, if it was so hot, then why would you never do it again?” I demand.

“Because it cost me one of my best friends,” he says glumly, and I realize that heiscapable of being rattled. “What about you? What’s your most embarrassing hookup story?”

“Hmmm. I don’t know.” I think it over, but even if my brain had conjured up a crazy Stifler’s mom-esque scenario, I wouldn’t be able to reveal it because a car door slams from outside. “Ugh. My dad’s home,” I tell Jake.

“I still can’t believe you’re living at home again. Has there been any news about your apartment?”

“My landlords pumped all the water out, and now they’re bringing in a cleaning crew. Hopefully it won’t be much longer.” I hear the key turn in the lock. “I gotta go now. We’ll talk later.”

Later?a little voice taunts.

Oh boy, this is bad. Getting to know Jake shouldn’t be an item on my agenda.

“Wait,” he says roughly. “When’s our next fake date?”

I have to smile. “Fakedate?”

“Yeah. When do we need to pull the wool over Mulder’s eyes again?”

“Um, most likely never? It’s not like we’ve been invited to do anything else.” I wrinkle my nose. “Why do you even want to?”

“Because isn’t that the arrangement? A real date for a fake one? And I want a real one.”

My heart skips a beat. “You just want to have sex with me.”

“Yes. Badly.”

At least he’s honest. “Well, I think the fake-date ship has sailed, I’m afraid.”

His voice thickens. Husky and endearing. “What about the real-date ship?”

My teeth dig into my bottom lip. Then I take a breath. “I think that one might still be in the harbor.”

“Good. Let’s try to do something this weekend? Maybe after the charity games?”

Dad’s footsteps near the living room. “We’ll figure it out. I have to go now.”

I hang up as my father enters the room. “Hi,” he greets me. His absent-minded gaze flicks to the television.

“Hey. There’s dinner in the microwave. You just need to nuke it.”

“Perfect. Thanks. I’m starving.” He turns on his heel and marches into the kitchen.

“How was practice?” I call out.

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