Page 68 of In the Offensive Zone with My Fake Bride
Without a word, I press the button on the remote. The next one plays—a calico cat named Chloe who holds her owner’s head with her paws like a hug and rubs her nose on his while purring like a car engine.
I chuckle. “I think she’s besotted.”
Call me a romantic for hoping Lily is, too. With me. Not the bloke in the video.
She shoots me a cutting glance, but I don’t miss the smile playing on her lips. “Shut up and eat.”
The cat videos last longer than our dinner, which pleases me to no end because Lily stays for the entire run instead of retreating to her room again. At times, she even seems to relax and lets herself laugh at the feline antics. When she tugged her ponytail loose, it was all I could do not to reach out and sift my hand through her hair to feel the silk-like strands falling around her shoulders.
Afterward, she kept true to her word about cleaning up since I cooked and started rinsing and loading the dishwasher.
I, of course, join her to help. Not out of any altruistic motivation because mine is far from selfless. The more time I have with Lily, the better my chances of winning her heart. Even if it’s simply the act of washing up together.
“I can take care of this.” She loads the bowl I just rinsed.
“I don’t mind helping.”
“I don’t need your help,” she says in a clipped tone.
I hand her the other bowl. “Right. Then what if Iwantto help?”
She darts guarded eyes at me. “It’s your kitchen. You can do what youwant.”
Our conversation continues without words but with meaningful glances as we work in tandem like a couple operating ina familiar rhythm. My chest tightens again with a longing for something more with her, that this could be our normal routine and thoughts of what might come after cause that ache to run even deeper. I think my love and desire for Lily intensify daily.
Per her usual, she heads toward her bedroom after we finish washing up, but I follow her. And like before, she pauses at her door and turns around, striking me speechless with her beauty.
She puts her hands on her hips. “Are we doing this again?”
“Doing what? Making sure you get to your door safely?”
“Yes.” Voice soft, her hazel eyes dance with questions and that same vulnerability I glimpsed at the aquarium makes an appearance. Is she about to let me in just a little more?
Of course, I mean the metaphorical kind. I wouldn’t dream or expect her to invite me into her bedroom. But this feels like she’s on the verge of letting me catch a glimpse of the real Lily, who protects her heart as fiercely as she safeguards her clients.
My insides erupt like our fans when we make a goal. Score one for team Payton? “Consider it part of my royal duty.”
The light in her eyes dims with the return of her earlier wariness. “I can take care of myself, Payton.”
She’s trying to hide again. Was it something I said, or is she afraid of the feelings I’m working so hard to stir in her?
“Never doubted you could.” I take a step closer. “You don’t like asking for help, do you?”
“I don’t likeneedinghelp. There’s a difference.”
“Everyoneneedshelp once in a while.” And another step.
She lowers her arms. “I’m not everybody.”
“I won’t argue with you there.” My last step leaves less than a foot of space between us.
A strand of her hair slips forward, tickling the edge of her eye.
I reach towardher face. “May I?”
Her eyes dart back and forth as she studies me. Just when I think she’s about to turn tail and run, she nods.
Keeping my movements slow yet obvious, I brush the hair from her face. She stiffens at first, then relaxes as I rub my thumb across her cheek.
