“…booked a show, and we have this stupid promise.” She looks sheepish. “Lisa and I have been friends forever, and we made a promise that we’d always go to each other’s shows. It sucks to be alone, so we promised to never let that happen to one another.”
“I don’t think that’s stupid at all.”
“You don’t?”
“No, I think it’s nice of you. You’re a good friend.”
“Sometimes being a good friend sucks.” She gives me a sly sort of look, and I realize she’s hinting at not wanting to go. “I hate to leave, but Lisa booked a show and I have to show up. The pact, you know.”
She stands up and wobbles as she takes a few steps.
“You’re in no shape to drive,” I say. “Let me take you.”
“Don’t be silly, it’s across town. I’ve only had a glass of wine. Or, I can Uber.”
“I’ve only had half a glass, and I weigh over two hundred pounds. I also ate a foot-long sub before you showed up, so there’s no way I’m even the slightest bit tipsy.”
She faces me. “Why would you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Eat a foot-long! I was bringing you a pizza!”
“Oh, uh—”
“I’m kidding.” She grins. “I’ll call an Uber.”
“No.” I stand and rest my hand on her arm. Christ, her skin is soft. I want to touch her everywhere, and dammit—if driving across town to some seedy comedy club is what it’ll take to get there, I can’t jump on board fast enough. “I want to go with you.”
“It’s a dirty, underground comedy club. It’s probably gonna be me, you, Lisa, and Phil.”
“Who’s Phil?”
“The homeless guy who lives by the mailbox.”
My smile grows bigger. “Perfect. My kinda place.”
“Really?”
“I prefer the out of the way sort of places.”
I don’t tell her that otherwise, I have people in my face all the time asking for autographs. I love fans, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I crave a little privacy.
“Ah, the problems of the rich and famous.” She winks, not fooled by my chivalry. “Well then, I will take you up on your offer of a ride, but”—she points at me—“this isn’t a real date.”
“It’s not even a fake date,” I say, raising my hands in surrender. “I’m just giving you a ride like any good Samaritan would do.”
She laughs, and I can barely restrain my tortured groan. I may want to sleep with her more than I want to breathe, but I can be patient. I can feel when a girl is different, special—at least I think I can. It’s never happened before, not like this where my heart almost beats out of my rib cage every time she smiles.
“You don’t have to finish that,” I say as she reaches for my now discarded glass of wine.
I don’t want to be responsible for getting her too drunk on our first semi-date, even if it’s only a fake one. Not only is it just not a good idea to get drunk, it’s more than that.
Whenever she kisses me for the first time—and she will kiss me eventually—I want her to remember every damn second of it, and I want her to come back for more.
“Oh, yes I do.” She reaches out a hand, rests it on my chest. “The bar where we’re going has a two-drink minimum. I order two diet Cokes instead of booze because it’s cheaper, so I’ll just drink this wine now, and we’ll be good to go. Plus, I’ve got a designated driver.”
She dances her fingers up my chest, and I’m turned on by her touch.
“Are you ready?” I ask, my voice husky. If we don’t get out of here soon, I’ll be throwing her onto the bed and pulling off that stupid collared shirt. I grab her hands. “Move it, or we’re never leaving.”
CHAPTER 12
Andi
“This is the place?” Ryan somehow makes his way around his brother’s BMW before I can open the door. He guides me out slowly, and I apologize for the fiftieth time that his car is too busy getting fixed to be driven.
“Relax,” he says. “It’s nothing.”
“I shouldn’t have brought you here.” I lean against the car and stare at the somewhat dilapidated building ahead of us. “This is no place for Ryan Pierce. If you leave now, I can Uber back. Plus, I’ll still deliver your pizzas.”
“I’d hope so. Rumor on the street is that I tip pretty well for good service.” Ryan moves his hand so that his fingers are low on my back, teasing me with a hint of skin-on-skin contact between my cropped tank and my jeans. “Let’s grab seats, show starts in three minutes.”
I traded in my Peretti’s collared shirt for a black stretchy tank top and a fake-leather jacket slung across my shoulders, retrieved from the stash I keep in my car. I can’t help the slight cheesy-pizza scent radiating from my work jeans, but I look decent enough to get inside the Laugh House. With a bit of added mascara and a swipe of lip gloss, hell, this is almost a date.
The Laugh House is a middle-of-the-road place. The only time a famous face might be seen around here is if they’re testing out new material before hitting the big stages. Even so, it is a way bigger deal than the clubs Lisa and I normally play.
How can I tell it’s a big deal? Because there are people here. Real, live people mingling about the bar, waiting in line to get into the club. I often come here to watch classmates who have gotten their medium break into the industry, so I know Bruce, the bouncer. He works here mostly to get some free stage time, moonlighting as a comedian when his ex-wife has the kids for the weekend.
“Hey, Andi.” Bruce pulls me in, kisses both of my cheeks, and then rakes his gaze over Ryan. “Sweet gig for Lisa, huh? What a turnout. I’m happy for her.”
“I can’t wait to see her up there,” I gush. “She’s going to have a cow when she sees a crowd this size.”
Ryan hasn’t once moved his hand from my lower back, a choice I decide to appreciate. Bruce, however, is protective of his fellow comics and growls at Ryan for ID.
“Come on, Bruce,” I say. “He’s with me. Lighten up.”
“It’s fine.” Ryan hands over his ID with a smile. “I don’t mind.”
I glance with suspicion at Ryan—he looks positively giddy. That’s when I realize he probably never gets asked for his ID because people recognize him. This is exciting for him, I think, in a strange way.
Bruce grunts a moody move along.
“Nice guy,” Ryan murmurs, squeezing me tight as we slip through the doors. “A friend of yours?”
“Yeah, he’s a softy inside. He just watches out for the regulars.” I smile. “So, can I buy you a soda? I don’t have enough cash on me for anything more.”
Ryan opens his mouth to respond, but I interrupt him first.
“Wait!” I yank out the cash from the pizza delivery. “I have your tip. Would you like a glass of wine? Let’s go all out tonight.”
“I’ll take a beer. Driving,” he says as an explanation. “And I have to head back to Minnesota next week for some preseason training.”
“Minnesota?”
He shrugs. “Until the deal’s done out here, I’m still with the Stars. My duties are still to my team there.”
Ryan seems bothered by something, but I can’t quite put my finger on what. Before I can beat him to it, he orders a beer for him and a glass of wine for me and pays in cash. Then he selects a table near the front and pulls a chair out, gesturing for me to slip into it.
His whole gentleman act is dangerous.
I could get used to this, and that’s the last thought I need to be having right after agreeing to be his friend-date to his brother’s wedding. I mean, he basically told me that the only reason he trusts himself to behave is because he doesn’t want to have sex with me.
Which is unfortunate, because I’m thinking that adding a one-night stand into the mix of this whole fake-girlfriend thing might’ve sweetened the pot. We’ll see. Maybe he’s open to negotiation.
“Why do I feel like you’ve never been with a man who deserves you?” Ryan leans over, his breath tickling my ear. “You act as if I shouldn’t be doing this—opening doors, buying you drinks, driving you around town.”