Page 69 of Never Your Girl

“Pretty fucking fantastic?”

I snort out a laugh as the edges of my lips curl. “Sure, we can go with that.”

Humor dances in her sparkling eyes.

I like it.

More than that…

I like her.

That thought is all it takes to break down the last of my barriers.

23

Holland

After the impromptu shower in the locker room, hunger wins out, and we go in search of food. Bridger takes me to a place called Harvey’s Eats and Treats. It’s a diner that looks like it was ripped straight out of a 1950s postcard. The red vinyl booths gleam under the soft glow of hanging lights, and the walls are plastered with Coca-Cola memorabilia and black-and-white photos of old Hollywood stars. A retro jukebox hums in the corner, its colorful lights twinkling to some old-school rock song I vaguely recognize.

Willow has mentioned this place before, but I’ve never been here. As I take it in, I have to admit that it lives up to the hype.

“Pretty cool place, huh?” Bridger says, holding the door open for me.

“Yeah, it is,” I agree, stepping inside. The smell of sizzling burgers and fried onions wraps around me like a hug and makes me realize just how famished I am. “Although, I’ll reserve judgment until after I eat.”

A waitress wearing a pink uniform approaches with menus tucked under her arm. “Looking for a table or booth?”

“Booth,” we say at the same time before glancing at each other with small smiles.

“Aren’t you two adorable,” she says. “Follow me.”

I don’t look at Bridger as we trail after her. I’m pretty sure my face is a dead giveaway.

Adorable?

That’s not exactly the word I’d use to describe us.

More like complicated.

Or maybe combustible.

The waitress slides two menus onto the table, her pencil poised over a notepad. “Would you like drinks to start out with?”

“Root beer float,” Bridger and I echo simultaneously.

When I glance up from my menu, he smirks. “Wow, just add it to the growing list of what we have in common,” he says, leaning back and stretching an arm along the top of the booth.

“Like I said—adorable,” the waitress chirps.

I clear my throat. “I’ll also have a bacon cheeseburger with the works, and onion rings.”

Bridger’s gaze stays pinned to mine. “Same.”

The older woman jots down our order before taking off.

“Seems like we’re a match made in fake dating heaven,” I force myself to say, needing the reminder.

Especially after what happened in the locker room.

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