Page 95 of The Proposal Pact
Sometimes I really hated how well she knows me. I needed to do a better job at this acting—sulking—thing.
“I’m not deflecting, there’s just nothing new. We are good. Same as every day.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” she says as I open the door to Peace Out diner for her and follow behind.
The place is packed, as usual, with the early lunch rush most of whom are tourists. In particular, surfers. I’ve been told that Loverly Cave has some of the most wicked waves and they all flood here to catch one.
Gracie and I settle into the only available booth next to the window, and miraculously she drops the questions about my married life in favor of picking out which ten meals she’s about to order, and as soon as we do, she leaves to the restroom.
My earlier idea about freelancing resurfaces, and I pull out my phone, deciding to do some research when a body slides into my side of the booth.
A male body.
Startled, I look up from my phone to find a guy in his mid-twenties—from what I can tell—with blue eyes and longish blond hair looking all distressed.
“Hi,” he says,the two letters rushing quickly out of him, while I’m still blinking, trying to figure out who is he and what does he want.
“Um, hi? Do you need some help?” I quirk an eyebrow.
“Yes! I think…I think I’m going to die if I don’t find out your name and get your number and take you out.” That panicked look morphs into a dazzling dimpled smile, and after a second of shock I burst out laughing.
“Goodness, that was quite a way to ask for it.”
“Creative, right?” He winks, throwing his arm over the back of the booth and I pull away slightly, so his fingers aren’t touching me.
“Very.” I roll my eyes.
“So?”
“So, what?”
“What’s your name? I’m Alan.” I look at the guy—Alan, I’ve never seen him before so he must be one of those surfer tourists. He certainly looks the part.
“I’m…”Give him your name, Sophie. He’s cute and clearly interested and God knows you need a distraction from that fake husband of yours.“I’m…not available.”
Damn it. I didn’t give him my name, because it would be weird since I am still married after all, even if it’s fake. That’s the only reason and has nothing to do with the fact that the mere thought of Clover made this previously cute guy, dull and weird.
He’s too happy.
Since when is that a problem for you, Sophie?I groan at my own inner voice.
“Not available?” He lifts his eyebrows. “That’s quite a name, but that’s okay, I can work with that.”
I laugh. “No, really. I’m married.”
“Fuck, am I really that bad that you had to come up with that excuse?” He wrinkles his nose but not in an off-putting way. Quite the opposite, this guy is funny, and a week ago I’d give him my name, number, and maybe even a kiss right here on the spot.
But that was a week ago.
“It’s not an excuse, I’m serious.”
“No, please tell me you’re not. You are like my dream girl! I saw you as soon you walked in and knew you were it! You’re not wearing a ring. You can’t be married.” He sounds almost distressed, but before I can say anything, a large hand grabs at the shoulder of his T-shirt and yanks him out of the booth with a startled curse.
“My wife just told you she’s not fucking available. Need me to spell it out for you before or after I break the hand that touched her?” Clover growls and a small yelp leaves my lips before my mouth drops.
28
Callum
