Page 111 of A Flighty Fake Boyfriend
“You brought them?”
“I never go anywhere without them.”
“I have the pin on my jacket.” I showed him.
“Then I’ll just have to orbit you tonight and maybe cause a rising”—he glanced at my crotch—“tide or two.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s just awful.”
“I’m afraid it’s canon now.”
When I was ready, we went to the elevator together. I pressed the Down button. “Why’d you press down? Isn’t the restaurant up?”
“You can’t get there from here. The restaurant tower has its own elevator.”
He took my hand. “You have to go down to go up?”
“Yup.”
“What if you want to go up?”
“You press Up.” I pointed out the obvious.
“But you can’t get to the restaurant from Up?”
“Not from this elevator. It doesn’t go there.”
He blinked his wide blue eyes. “And you wonder why I want to live in St. Nacho’s?”
“No, I don’t.” I kissed his cheek. “I wonder why you do a lot of things, but St. Nacho’s? I get that.”
He gave me a slow,I’ve got plans for yousmile—one intended to convey that we were going to do what he wanted. Work remotely. Move to St. Nacho’s. Get a place and put down roots.
He let me know, with that smile, that he’d take care of me, empty my cache of worries regularly with great sex, make me eat well and wear sunscreen and hats.
I’d probably have to mini-golf again. Better not be on my birthday.
When we got to the ground floor, we switched elevators and rode all the way to the steakhouse on the top.
“After you, sweetheart,” he said when the doors opened.
Chapter Twenty-Six
On Saturday, it rained. We had breakfast in bed and watched Animal Planet for a while.
Epic went to the bathroom, and when he came back, he carried a small duffel from which he pulled a slender, flexible, gift-wrapped package.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a present for you.” I carefully took off the tape and opened it.
Inside, a crop with feathers at the end waited like dueling pistols in the first act of a play.
“You’re not going to hit me, are you?”
“Nope. Not ever, unless you want me to.” He’d bound my wrists loosely together with the warning I’d better keep them where he wanted them.
“There’s no place to tie your legs,” he complained. “It’s almost as if they are actively trying to prevent their guests from tying one another up.”
