Page 33 of The Plus One Contract

“Missed you too,” I say, squeezing him back. Despite the embarrassment, warmth blooms in my chest.

When he finally pulls away, his gaze shifts immediately to Nathan, narrowing in a fatherly threat-assessment kind of way.

“And you must be the boyfriend,” he says bluntly.

Nathan steps forward, his hand extended confidently. “Nathan Calloway, sir. Pleasure to meet you.”

Sir?

Of course he’d pull out the manners.

Dad takes his hand, clearly sizing him up. “Tim Blake. Sienna’s father.” Dad's stare hardens. “You know, I thought for a while there you might've been imaginary.”

Yep, I’m going to pass out. Maybe it might distract him from the oncoming interrogation.

Nathan doesn’t miss a beat. “I assure you, I’m very real. She's not getting rid of me that easily.”

Dad laughs. “So, tell me, how did you two meet?”

Oh, shit. We didn’t rehearse this part.

Before I can craft a plausible lie, Nathan slides an arm around my waist with an ease that momentarily robs me of coherent thought. “Funny story. She stole my seat at a bar.”

I snap my gaze up to him, mouth falling open. “I did not—”

“Oh, she absolutely did,” Nathan interrupts, eyes dancing with humor. “I got up for one second to take a call, and when I returned, she was perched there, sipping my whiskey.”

My dad throws his head back with a deep laugh while I shoot Nathan a glare hot enough to melt glaciers.

“He’s exaggerating,” I insist, nudging him sharply in the ribs.

Nathan grins wider. “Barely, but it was worth it.”

“Was it?” I arch a brow at him, trying and failing to ignore the warmth spreading through me at his playful tone.

“Definitely.” He winks, squeezing my side gently, and I feel my face flush.

Dad watches the exchange, his eyes darting between us before he chuckles again and nods. “Well, Calloway, seems like you've got your hands full.”

“You have no idea, sir.”

God help me.

My father picks up my suitcase, giving Nathan a meaningful look, finally satisfied with whatever silent alpha-male assessment he just conducted, and then claps a hand on my back so hard I'm surprised my lungs stay intact. “Alright, lovebirds. Let’s get moving.”

I'd forgotten this part.

Normal couples typically leave the airport together, and since I’m staying at my parents' house, logic dictates that Nathan should come with me.

Nathan, who has absolutely no reason to come home with me.

Just as panic threatens to consume me, Nathan smoothly steps in.

“I've arranged a rental,” he says, effortlessly calm. “Didn’t realize Sienna’s dad was picking her up. Besides, I know how excited she’s been to catch up with family.”

I blink up at him, speechless.

Nathan Calloway: master improviser.

---