The Fake Mate(20)

Although, I can’t say I’m not curious now. After seeing Priya at lunch, it’s been hard not to consider the, ah, finer details of Noah’s alpha anatomy. I can’t just ask, right? That’s not cool. I wonder how many days you have to be fake dating before it’s okay to ask about the structure of your pretend boyfriend’s dick? More importantly, why does the thought of said pretend boyfriend’s dick make me feel tingly inside?

“How was your day otherwise?”

His question distracts me, and that’s probably a good thing. “My day?”

“Yes, I . . . I guess I’m asking how you’re doing in general? I would hate to think of you struggling for my sake.”

Now he’s worrying about me. Another unexpected square for my bingo card.

“Oh. Well. Yeah? It was fine. I had to set a broken arm for a woman with a pain tolerance of about a negative seven, so that was fun. Even with anesthetics, she acted like I was killing her. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her wailing from all the way up here.”

The corner of Noah’s mouth tilts, so subtly I might almost miss it. “That sounds like loads of fun.”

“You better be careful,” I tell him seriously. “People catch you smiling like that, it will hurt the whole ‘brooding scowl monster’ vibe you’ve worked so hard on.”

He rolls his eyes. “Duly noted.”

“Anyway. So I was wondering. What’s your schedule like this weekend?”

“This weekend?”

“Yeah . . . See, I was actually coming by to ask you about Betty’s retirement party Friday night.”

He cocks his head. “Betty?”

“One of the nurses in obstetrics,” I tell him. “She’s retiring. She’s been here forever. She delivered Tim Allen.”

“Tim Allen?”

“He was born here.”

“Really?”

“Dude. We have like one famous person. Well, unless you count Dog the Bounty Hunter. Which I do. How did you not know this?”

“I guess Denver trivia isn’t my forte.”

“A resident genius, but doesn’t know about Tim Allen,” I tut. “It’ll be the first story Betty tells you.”

“I’m not sure I’ve actually met Betty.”

“Well, at least we know she’s not one of the nurses who you’ve maimed.”

He rolls his eyes. “Hilarious.”

“I know it’s probably not your thing, but you know, since we’re all ‘mated’ now . . . I thought it might be weird if we didn’t go together.”

“And you’re set on going, I take it.”

“I do tend to make a habit of socializing,” I tell him seriously. “I know. It’s a horrible habit.”

To my surprise, Noah smiles again. Well, sort of. It’s more of a slight tilt of his lips, but I’m learning that’s about as good as I can expect.

“Horrible,” he echoes.

“I don’t want to force you, though, if it’s going to be a complete nightmare for you. I can totally make something up about you being busy or something.”

“No, I . . .” He frowns, thinking. “I can go.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“Did you not want me to?”

“No, no.” I shake my head. “I guess I’d just assumed there’s no way you would want to.”

“Like you said,” he reasons, “I’m sure people will expect it.”

“Right.” I can’t say why, but for some reason, his answer makes me feel some distant cousin of irritation, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes. “I guess it’s a date then.”

He’s the one to look surprised now.

“Just kidding,” I quickly correct.

He nods slowly. “Right.”

“To be clear, though, literally everyone is going to be grilling us.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, we are hot gossip number one. My friend Priya is practically foaming at the mouth.”

He grimaces. “Should I be worried?”

“I think we can handle it,” I assure him. “We just have to pretend like we’re a deliriously happy couple, right?”

“Right,” he confirms.

“Oh. Also, we need to be thinking of a story about how we met.”

“How we met?”

He’s still frowning at me like he’s trying to figure something out. Or maybe that’s just his face. Actually, that’s plausible.

“Apparently, it’s a hot topic that keeps coming up. I managed to dodge the question today, but Priya is not one to let things go.”

“Does it need to be overly sensational?”

“That depends,” I say seriously. “How opposed are you to the idea that you wrote me highly emotional poetry?”

His expression isn’t the least bit amused.

“Fine, fine,” I laugh. “It can be simple. I mean, we can stick mostly to the facts, really. We met at work. We could even stick to the simple truth to begin with. That we met when I came to your office for a consult question. Then we start adding the murky bits about hitting it off and falling in love and whatnot.”