Page 20 of The Romance Game

Ryan’s proximity and his clean linen scent are not helping my case. Nor are they allowing me to remain focused on getting the Plundering Pelican cleaned up. The tropical-pirate-themed restaurant was my aunt and uncle’s pride and joy but seems to be sinking fast.

Uncle Owen is Dad’s brother. After meeting Aunt Martina in Indiana and getting married, they dreamed big during the coldest winter on record. With my grandparents gone and my dad already working on the oil rig in the Gulf, they had the idea to open a restaurant in the Keys. It was the farthest south they could go, and thereby the warmest, while staying in the US.

As the wintery days passed and they planned their relocation, their idea took form from a regular fish and chips joint to a pirate and tropical-themed restaurant. Aunt Martina was the Energizer Bunny, creating the menu and the “brand” while Uncle Eddie was the muscle, building out the patio overlooking the water that looks like a ship’s deck. They started simple with fish and chips, expanded to include an oyster bar, and didn’t stop there. Eventually, they built out the interior with a pool in the center filled with koi, a waterfall, and private booths with loads ofpirate memorabilia and fun details like portholes, ship’s rope, paintings, and lots of “treasure.”

Guests never knew when Captain Edward Tooth(less) was going to appear in costume. Though, these days, Uncle Eddie’s fake scowl is more like a real frown.

Brando didn’t opt to carry the torch, but when he returned, coincidentally, at the same time my sisters sent me on what was supposed to be a relaxing weekend, I’m glad I was here for moral support.

I imagine it was tough to see his father relatively despondent. It’s like he doesn’t know what to do without his wife by his side.

But right now, Ryan is by my side, and I don’t know what to do other than remain in motion.

While I straighten the salt and pepper shakers, I say, “So let me get this straight, you asked for my advice on how to patch up your career situation, and your takeaway was a fake relationship with me?”

His shoulder lifts slightly. “Worth a shot.”

“But me? Really?” The plan he outlined was along those lines and the worst idea ever.

“I can prove that I’m a team player.”

“I think they’re looking for you to make a commitment, to settle down, and become a family man.” As I speak the words, my thoughts dive into my failed relationship with Troy the man-boy. Turns out that I don’t know how to pick ‘em. “Or don’t listen to me. There’s probably someone out there with a better idea.” Salty liquid rises in my eyes because I can’t give Luke the father he deserves and here Ryan is, throwing his life away.

Shifting toward the door, I’m about to show him out. As if sensing his dismissal, he clasps my wrist and then twines his fingers in mine. My stomach flutters and I flail like I can no longer tread water.

“Please be in a fake relationship with me. You’re the only hope I’ve got.” There’s an amount of sincerity in Ryan’s words that surprises me. Either that or I’m out of practice reading him.

I have to end this now before I do something stupid. Something I’ll regret, because, if I know anything, when it comes to this guy and me, I’m prone to doing dumb things.

“Ryan Phiefer McGregor, the next person I date is going to be the man I marry and right now marriage is off the table. So am I, not that I was on it. There is no table and if there were, I wouldn’t be anywhere near it.” I wave my hands to signal that’s it. End of story.

And what does that scallywag do? He grasps my waist, lifts me up, and plants me on the Buccaneer Booth’s table. In high school, my sisters and I named each one. The Landlubber, Scuttlebutt, and Swashbuckler are a few others.

Ryan’s blue eyes dip to my lips then lift again, searching my gaze. I resist the flutters in my stomach and the way they cluster and scatter, cluster and scatter. I deny the weakness in my knees—thank goodness I’m seated.

His mouth twists and lands somewhere between a flirty and cocky smile as if he can read my thoughts and is pleased to still have an effect on me.

I’d like to grind out that there is no effect, but just then, the bells on the door jingle. “Sorry, we’re closed,” I call, my voice splitting between that and what I’d wanted to say to Ryan.

“Looks like you’resomething, but not closed,” Uncle Eddie calls from across the room with a chuckle.

My cousin Brando stands by his side, eyes on Ryan. The quarterback shuffles back a few steps.

Uncle Eddie brushes his hands together. “See? Told ya. I have a clean bill of health. Mind as sharp as a tack. Lungs as strong as an ox.” He pounds his chest. “Now, I have to go fix the branding iron for the skull and crossbones on my burger buns.”

“Dad, I’ll help. I don’t want you to burn—” Brando calls after his father.

Uncle Eddie, more stooped than I remember, pauses. “Son, I’ll have you know that I’m fine. Just a bit, well, things aredifferent here without your mother.” At that, he pushes through the swinging door to the back.

There goes that salt water again. It rises to my eyes and I stifle a sniffle.

“What are you two doing?” Brando asks, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Just discussing Ryan’s pro, um, predicament.” I almost saidproposal. Sheesh. Brando would have us both walking the plank by sundown.

“What predicament?”

“Haven’t you seen? Oh, right, you’re not on social media with the rest of us normal folks,” Ryan teases.

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