Page 25 of The Romance Game

“Yep and not to tell you that I’ll do it.”

“So, you will?” I ask.

This time she growls. It’s kind of adorable, like a kitten angry at a ball of yarn. Harley puffs her cheeks with an exhale. “Yeah, against my better judgment, the fluttering in my stomach said to help you out.”

“You listen to what your stomach tells you? If I did that, I’d weigh eight hundred pounds.” I pat my abs.

“I find that hard to believe.” I sense Harley’s eyes travel toward me.

Being fit the way I am is a necessity of my job. Some women admire my physique—who am I kidding, a lot of them do—but it always made me feel funny. Like I was just a piece of meat. With Harley’s eyes on me, it’s more like she appreciates that I’m capable and could protect her from a bear—probably.

A strange question seems to roll in with the lapping waves.But can I protect her from myself?

“So, this fluttering, can you describe it?” I ask, taking my focus off my thoughts.

“It’s not a baby kicking. That’s a distinct feeling and no way that I’m preg—” She goes quiet.

“Pregnant?”

She shifts uncomfortably. “I meant it was like nerves.”

“Do I make you nervous?”

Eyes on the water, she lifts her chin. “Not generally. More like annoyed, angry at times.”

“Sheesh. Tell me how you really feel.”

“Okay. This is already a mistake. Something I should not have agreed to?—”

“And yet you did.”

“Because all the while I was talking to my sisters, the fluttering wouldn’t stop. It was insisting I sayyes.”

“You sure you’re not hungry?” I ask as my stomach gurgles.

“No, that was your stomach, again.”

“I meant the feeling isn’t hunger?”

She thinks about this for a moment. “Define hunger.”

“Like when I see a big, juicy cheeseburger, and?—”

“Definitely not that, Big Shot.”

I stab the air, finally realizing her angle. “Ah. So, you want to put me in check, humble me, knock me down a peg and you can do that by fake dating me.”

“No, Champ. Not that. I’m not an evil, manipulative mastermind. But just for that, it’ll be Hot Shot from now on.”

“I’ve been called worse,” I mutter.

Harley remains quiet for a long moment as if she’s run out of argument steam. “My life took an unexpected turn not too long ago. Then, when I got back on track, I found myself here. And it looks like I’ll be sticking around for a while, so why not help a brother out, you know?”

Great. So, Harley thinks of me like a brother. I shouldn’t be surprised.

“Speaking of brothers, did you tell Brando?”

“You mean my cousin?”

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