Page 47 of Fumbled Into Love

My gaze travels from my cat to the costume Nathalie displays, holding the hanger over her head. A long brown cape trails to the floor, accompanied by a mustard yellow vest and brown slacks, far too short for my large frame.

She peeks her head around the outfit, energy buzzing.

“Well…?”

“That’s not going to fit,” I say, examining the pants.

“Yes, they will.” I raise a brow. “I stole your clothing out of the laundry room to make sure. Go get dressed.”

She shoves the costume into my hands, and as I pass her, she pats my ass. I spin around in disbelief. Nathalie’s grin is so large her cheeks push up her glasses.

“Did you just slap my ass?”

She obviously did, but I’m in too much shock to ask any logical questions.

“You have tight glutes. It’s an impressive ass. I’ve seen Jack’s, and I think yours is better.” Nathalie winks, and I choke, quickly disappearing into my room. I don’t know how to respond to her comment without blushing. “Be quick about it,” Nathalie yells. “Gordie gets antsy on his leash!”

Gordie’s…what?

Gordie struts on his leash ahead of Nathalie and me as we weave our way through the small crowd in Maren and Jack’s home.

Nathalie admitted she’s been training Gordie on the leash. I’ve decided my fake girlfriend is insane. If her slapping my ass wasn’t proof enough, her training my demon cat to walk on a leash is overwhelming evidence. There's no way my geriatric cat is going to walk around on a leash at a Halloween party full of professional athletes and their families.

Once again, Gordie takes immense joy in proving me wrong.

Maren and Sawyer linger in the kitchen by the large island, munching on a veggie platter, when they spot us. As they turn, their jaws fly to the floor.

“Oh. My. God,” Maren whispers.

Nathalie picks Gordie off the ground, peppering him with kisses. I grab Nathalie by the waist, pulling her to my side. Her eyes flicker in confusion.

“They know it’s not real,” she mumbles from the side of her mouth.

“But the rest of my team doesn’t,” I respond. “We’re going to have to pretend.”

Nathalie clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes.

“You’re wearing a Hobbit outfit, Deon. It looks like I have you wrapped around my finger.” I blink. She has a point. “But don’t worry, I’ll pretend I’m madly in love with you and that your shit smells like roses.”

She cackles, leaving me to stand awkwardly in Maren’s hallway.

“You three look amazing!” Sawyer yells, dressed as Buttercup in a long red gown. I’m sure Henry is dressed as Westley, complete with the tight leather pants and mask.

“You two truly outdid yourselves,” Maren adds, extending a seltzer, a SCUBA mask plastered to her forehead. I snag it and crack it open for Nathalie before handing it to her.

“Where are the guys?” I ask, but my voice cracks as Nathalie trails a hand up my torso. “What are you doing?” I hiss.

Nathalie giggles, wiggling her eyebrows.

She’s far too good at making me uncomfortable. I need to even the field a bit. I’m stumbling over myself while Nathalie is unaffected by our deal. Well, If I’m going to stumble, then she’s going to beright beside me.

“I’m playing my part,” she drawls, eyes darting to the other side of the room where a few teammates watch us, “and showing everyone howmadly in love we are."

She wants to play this game? Fine, I’ll play.

I nod and then spin to my fake girlfriend. Evening the playing field, that’s all this is. It’s how I justify the nerves fluttering in my chest when I bend down and take her lips.

She releases a gasp, and I double down, nipping at her bottom lip and palming her ass to drag her closer. I trail my tongue along the seam of her lips, kissing her the way I do everything, with complete and total obsession.

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