Page 58 of Empty Net

“Uh-oh.”

“No uh-oh. Or maybe uh-oh. My mother called and has finally found time in her schedule. She wants to have lunch on Tuesday to give me my grandmother’s hideous ring.”

“I have a game on Tuesday.”

“That’s what I told her, but she’s insisting it be Tuesday. I guess her schedule is justso fullshe can’t possibly do it any other day.”

He shrugs. “Then I’ll make it happen.”

“Fox…”

He holds his hand up. “It’s no big deal. I’ll make it happen.”

“You know, you’re being way too nice about this whole thing. It makes me think you might have some ulterior motive.”

“No motive. I just…” He sighs, scratching at the dusting of hair lining his face. “I don’t know. In some way, you’re doing me a favor allowing me to do this.”

I tip my head to the side. “How so?”

“Well, it gives me something to do, for one. Helps me take my mind off the game, which is nice. And I don’t know…” He blows out a long, slow breath, then rushes out, “It’snicetohavesomeone.”

Somehow, I’m able to decipher it, probably because I get it. Itisnice to have someone, no matter the circumstances. Love and relationships may not be for me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to have someone to spend my time with. Actually, I could say that’s exactly why I’ve spent so much of my time dating around. Ilikebeing with someone else and hate being alone.

So, he’s right. Itisnice to have someone, even if it is fake.

“But how long are we going to keep this up?”

“As long as you need.”

“Fox, I?—”

“No,” he says, pushing off the counter. “Nope. We’re not going over this again. You’re not going to say I can’t do this. I’m doing it, and it is what it is. Deal?”

He’s so serious, his tone sharp. He means it. He wants to do this for me.

Maybe I should just let him and accept his help. I’ve tried doing this my way, and it’s done nothing to get my parents off my back. Hell, before we announced our engagement, they were pushing even harder than before. Maybe I should let someone else take the reins on this thing.

“Fine,” I relent. “But if at any time it gets to be too much, just yell ‘Brussels sprouts.’”

“Brussels sprouts?”

“Yeah, Brussels sprouts. It’ll be our safe word because nobody really likes Brussels sprouts, and they should make everyone pause.”

“I like Brussels sprouts,” he says.

“Fox…”

He laughs. “Fine. Brussels sprouts it is.” He shakes his head with a grin. “Now, how about a tour while dinner finishes doing its thing?” he asks, pointing his thumb toward the food still sizzling on the stovetop.

“A tour sounds nice.”

Fox sweeps his hands out wide. “Well, this is the kitchen.”

“Wait. So you mean the room with the stove, oven, and refrigeratorisn’tyour bathroom?” I side-eye him. “I amsoglad I have you here to direct me.”

Fox rubs a hand over the scruff that’s lining his face, and I track the movement, trying very hard to ignore the way my brain is screaming at me, saying,I bet that’d feel good between my thighs.

He kicks his lips up in a half grin. “Can you tell I’ve never hosted anyone before?”

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