Page 42 of The Bad Girl List

“Yes. Has he mentioned that our family has dinner together every Sunday?”

Oh, shit. Dad thinks Dom is the girl I pretended to be seeing.

“Um, I think so?” Dom shoots me a Help! look, but Dad is on a roll.

“Mmm-hmm,” he says. “It’s a tradition. Would you care to join us tomorrow night? It will be a little late in the evening due to Passport, but I can promise you a striking sunset and delicious wine.”

And just like that, the shark strikes. I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming.

“Uh–” Dom darts a look in my direction, her eyes desperately asking me to rescue her. “I’m in town with my family. My Auntie Dee has a Groupon for Olive Garden. I–”

“Bring them.” Dad moves in for the kill. I can practically see the blood gushing from between the shark’s teeth. “The more, the merrier. I can promise our spread will beat the pants off Olive Garden. My wife loves having guests.”

“I, uh–”

Dom’s discomfort is starting to make Tequila bark in the other room. She does the same thing when I’m upset, and seeing as how Dom is her new BFF, it’s no wonder she sounds so distressed.

When Dad is on the hunt, the best way to get him off the scent is to make him think he’s caught his prey. Knowing this, I don’t correct his assumptions.

I do the exact opposite.

“Dad.” I slide in next to Dom and rest my arm on her shoulders. She shoots me a wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights look, but doesn’t pull away. “Stop badgering her like she’s a grumpy sommelier in one of your high-end restaurant accounts.”

Dad huffs. “I was inviting her to dinner, Trev, not hustling.”

“You were hustling. I’ll ask her about Sunday dinner when you aren’t standing over her like a hungry shark. You can go now. ”

That earns me a stern frown. “That was not my shark look.”

“Striking sunsets and delicious wine? Please, Dad. Can you go now?”

In the bedroom, Tequila has settled. Dom’s lips are pursed, and she looks like she’s trying not to laugh. Good. I prefer this to how she had looked with my Dad closing in on her.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I tighten my arm around her shoulders. It’s all a show for Dad. I definitely don’t notice how she fits so perfectly against me, or how good it feels to touch her.

Dad is watching us with narrowed eyes. He’s fighting a smug smile. The result is something that resembles a sinister Joker mask.

“Bye, Dad.” I wave a hand in his face.

Dad always says that in sales, you have to know when to go all in, and you have to know when to fold. He senses that now is the time to fold, just as I had hoped.

“Take your time, Trev,” he says. “I’ll grab one of the caterers to help at the tasting bar until you get back.” To Dom, he says, “See you at dinner, hon.”

He strolls out of the bungalow. Even his shoulders manage to look smug.

Dom waits until he’s out of sight before she extracts herself. I ignore the instinct to pull her back, reminding myself that we’re just friends. Or at least, I hope we’re friends.

“Wow. He’s intense. I can understand why you need a fake date for the family dinner.”

“Yeah.” It’s a relief that she understands. “Sorry about that. I may have told my dad a few days ago that I’d just started seeing someone to get my parents off my back. They are insisting I bring my imaginary friend to dinner.”

“Ohhh.” Understanding dawns in her dark eyes. “When I said we had just met, he assumed I was that someone.”

I nod. “My parents–” I break off at a long whine from Tequila. “My parents are anxious for me to move on with my life.”

“But you still love Elle.”

“I still love Elle. I–”

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