Home > Take A Number : A Fake Dating Romantic Comedy(9)

Take A Number : A Fake Dating Romantic Comedy(9)
Author: Amy Daws

She continues staring at the notebook when she mutters, “And don’t do that staring thing you do sometimes.”

“Staring thing?”

She rolls her eyes and continues looking straight ahead. “You stare at me in the bakery sometimes, and it’s unnerving. Just…don’t do that.”

I inwardly cringe over being called out so blatantly on something I thought we were both enjoying. It’s a bit of a gut-check moment I need because all of this is fake. And Norah isn’t the type of girl to turn a fake thing into a fun thing, so I need to get a fucking grip. “Fair enough…I shall try to stop gazing at your immense beauty.”

She fights back a smirk and writes NO STARING. It’s highly emasculating, so I bark out the next rule. “No bossing me around at this thing.”

Her curious eyes lift, causing me to shift in my seat. “I don’t want your father to think I’m some sort of doormat. If I decide I want whiskey with my cake, you need to let me do that.”

“There will be a dessert wine—”

“Don’t care,” I cut her off. “If I decide I want white wine with steak or red wine with fish, you will let me be.”

Her nose wrinkles with disgust. “Why would you—?”

“Norah, it’s a guy thing. You don’t need to control every aspect of me, even if I am your fake date. This will be good for you.”

She exhales heavily like I just told her my rule was that we had to run naked through the party together.

“And while we’re at it,” I continue while I have her somewhat disarmed, “you can’t talk business.”

“What?” she exclaims, her blue eyes wide and accusing. “Dean, that’s the whole point of you being my date—to talk up my business. To show my mother that what I’m doing is important and impressive and…admirable.”

“I will brag about your business prowess. You will not. You will be the dutiful, sweet daughter who brought a date to the anniversary party like her mother wanted. I’ll handle your image with your mother and her friends. Don’t you worry. Plus, it’s going to be ten times more accepted coming from me, the new guy, than you…the disgruntled daughter.”

“I didn’t think I was disgruntled,” she murmurs glumly and begins to doodle on the legal pad.

I reach out and touch her leg, feeling her jerk beneath my touch. “I don’t mean anything by it, Norah. I just want them to hear me, and if you’re too busy pushing your mother’s buttons, it’ll fall on deaf ears.”

Her face softens, and she nods before writing the last two rules. “This looks good. Just one more big, major rule. This might be the most obvious, but it’s also the most sacred.”

“I can’t wait to hear this.”

“No kissing.” Her cheeks deepen in color again as she focuses really hard on writing down this rule with apparently perfect penmanship. “I’m sure that was a given but better to have it all written out so we know what to expect. We absolutely cannot kiss. It will complicate everything.”

I sit back in the stool and watch her finish the list with a flourish at the bottom. She turns to me, and I smile. “What? We’re not signing in blood? Spewing bodily fluids into our palms and shaking hands?”

She rolls her eyes. “I like lists, Dean.”

“I’m gathering that, Norah.” I smile fondly at her. She’s cute when she’s flustered and trying not to be. “Well, if that’s everything, I guess I just need to know when to pick you up tomorrow.”

“The party starts at seven…so…six thirty? I don’t like to be late.”

My smile grows. “I’ll be here at six fifteen.”

She nods appreciatively, and we both stand, our bodies touching as we move away from the stools and walk down the hall.

As I turn to head down the stairs, Norah calls out. “Hey, Moser.”

I pause and turn to look at her.

“You ever done anything like this before?”

My brows lift. “Fake dated someone to get their mother off their ass? No, can’t say that I have.”

She fumbles with her fingers. “You think it’ll work?”

“Hell if I know,” I reply with a laugh. “But it’ll be damn fun finding out.”

 

 

“Your hair looks amazing,” Rachael exclaims with one last coat of hairspray before turning me on my vanity stool to look in the mirror. “I had no idea I was this good with white girl hair.”

My eyes widen as I take in the finished product. “Rachael, this is so, so cute.” I touch the loose Dutch braid across the top of my head. It sweeps down behind my ear like a headband and flows beautifully into short, loose beach waves. “I look like the mother of dragons from Game of Thrones.”

Rachael lets out a deep laugh. “Girl, I was going for backyard chic, but leave it to you to go medieval on me.”

I exhale with relief because my mother called last night to ask if I was getting my hair professionally styled for the party tonight. I knew it was one of her passive-aggressive digs because she’s hated my hair ever since I cut off eight inches last year. But dang, Rachael is better than a salon.

I stand and wrap my arms around her neck. “You really are a great friend.”

“Whoa, we’re hugging friends now?” she asks with a stiff voice.

I pull back nervously. “We are friends, right?” Ugh, I sound so stupid. Ever since my social life conversation with Dean, I’ve been feeling insecure about all my relationships.

Rachael’s chocolate eyes widen. “Yes, we’re friends, you fool. But you know I hate hugs.”

I shake my head from side to side. “Duh. Obviously, I know that. I’m just…I’m nervous, Rachael. Dean and I didn’t cover hugging on my list of rules, so I feel seriously unprepared.”

A knowing smile spreads across her face. “You like him.”

“I don’t like him,” I snap and turn to face the floor-length mirror to smooth out the wrinkles on my blush-pink floral mini dress. “I mean, yes, he’s cute. But he’s so cocky.”

“Which can be hot,” Rachael interjects.

“Okay, sometimes his cockiness is hot.” I wince. God, I really hate even saying that out loud, but it’s undeniable. Dean has this boyish magnetic charm and an uncanny ability to make a person feel totally at ease, blurring the lines between professional and personal. He’s just a carefree guy who doesn’t take life too seriously. “But that arrogance is only hot if I was interested…which I’m not.”

She rolls her eyes. “I thought once you promoted me to manager last year, you’d get more of a social life.”

“I’ve been social,” I argue limply because it’s a total lie. “I went to that franchise mastermind conference six months ago. That was very social.”

“That does not even come close to counting because it was still for work.” She hits me with a look of unmitigated disappointment. “And tonight, you had an opportunity to bring a real date, and you found yourself a fake one just to prevent having any sort of fun. Who does that?”

“Fun?” I bark out a laugh. “At my parents’ house? Unlikely.” I lean into the mirror and slather on a pale pink gloss that smells like cake batter.

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