16. CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 16

“I’d never turn you off again if you were a song”

If You Were A Song – Abbey Cone

Nathalie

D eon and I survived one month before the request to attend family dinner became a summon, followed by multiple threats to donate my holiday decorations if I didn’t bring him to dinner.

I didn’t spend years trudging through the clearance aisles of craft stores, fending off old women and couponers for my amazing decorations to be donated because we won’t attend family dinner.

My mother took my love for holidays and exploited my weakness, and now Deon and I are going to have to pull out Oscar-worthy performances.

If our ruse isn’t perfect, my family will know .

I have spent years droning on about love and relationships and happily ever after that if Deon and I don’t look like a couple madly in love, they will know it’s fake.

If he doesn’t touch me enough, they’ll figure it out.

If either of us is stiff or stilted in any of our answers, they’ll know.

After a few deep breaths and a ‘you got this’ in the mirror, I search to find Deon in the house.

After his surprise visit to GameChangers and my mild period-induced meltdown, he left for an away game in New York, meaning it’s been a week and a half into our deal, and I have yet to see the man naked again.

I’m ready to scream ‘artichoke’ at the top of my lungs whenever he walks into a room. I’m so horny, but I’m waiting for him to make a move, and he hasn’t.

I find Deon in The Lair, curled into the corner of the couch with a book. As I step closer, I realize it’s not any book, but the cowboy romance I finished reading.

“Enjoying the read?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.

He pops off the couch, startling Gordie, who sprints between my feet and out of the room. Surprised green eyes meet mine, and I jerk my chin toward the book dangling in his grip.

“Did you get to the part where he gives her his cowboy hat, and then she rides him all night?” Deon chokes, setting the book on the coffee table, and a blush creeps onto his cheeks.

“I did,” is all he says as he reaches the doorframe. Both arms grab the top of the frame, and he stretches out, towering over me. “How are you?”

His eyes flicker down my body, assessing .

“I’m fine.” I nearly melt into a puddle on the floor from the concern in his gaze. “But we do have an issue. We’ve been summoned .”

The words hang ominously in the air before Deon mutters, “Summoned?” with what could only be described as the world’s cutest confused face.

“We have to go to family dinner. We’re expected within the hour.”

A massive, unexpected smile blooms on Deon’s face.

“Alright.” He shrugs and slips past and into the living room.

I spin, chasing him down. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, let's go. I’m starving.”

His palm grazes against my back as he passes, and thank God we have to pretend in front of my family because it means I can let the crush out of her cage.

Maybe a bit of fresh air will calm her down and make her easier to deal with.

At least, I can hope.

The house is bursting at the seams with thinly contained energy when Deon and I walk into the house. Saffron and garlic waft into the entryway, and all I can think about is how poorly this is going to end.

They’re going to find out this is all fake, and I’m going to never live it down.

“She’s here,” Gracie hisses, and the kitchen quiets .

I grimace, nerves batting around my chest.

“There is a small chance my entire family is in the kitchen, ready to ambush us…”

Deon is shockingly calm. On the ride over, I was a mess, asking him every question I could remember on the questionnaire. I needed to know exactly how fucked we were before we walked through the door.

Instead of fumbling for answers, he knew them all.

How do I like my coffee?

What’s my favorite romantic comedy?

What’s my favorite meal?

For every question, he had a smooth, confident answer.

All sugar, no coffee.

Set It Up.

Mushroom risotto.

His fingers interlace with mine, and I melt. “We’re a team, right?”

Rule number two of Deon and Nathalie’s Guide to Casual Sex is void for tonight. Touching is necessary to pull this off. Maybe even a bit of light petting. Perhaps that will get him to ring the ‘artichoke’ bell.

Deon’s thumb twirls the friendship bracelets covering my wrist. First, the blue and silver one he put on my wrist on our first date and then the wonky orange and pink bracelet he made with Lina and me at GameChangers.

“A team,” I confirm, squeezing his hand. I try to reassure myself everything will be fine, but my free hand shakes slightly. We’re not dating, but I want them to like him because regardless of if it’s real, I like him, and my family's opinion is important to me.

Deon begins to move deeper into the house, and I stand rooted by the door. His arm jerks. “Nathalie?”

“I’m nervous,” I admit. “So much could go wrong.”

Deon smiles, and it loosens something in my chest. In a single step, he’s gripping my cheek and placing a punishing kiss against my lips.

It steals the air from my lungs.

“Oh. My. God. They’re kissing,” Gracie squeals.

“He’s so hot,” Santi adds.

Deon smiles against my lips, stealing one more kiss before he steps back. “Still nervous?”

I stand slack-jawed as Deon gives me a cocky smirk. Fuck. Normal Deon is hot, but a confident, cocky Deon is an entirely different person.

On wobbly legs, he drags me into the kitchen, where my entire family is pretending they aren’t spying on us. My dad whistles as he stirs something in a saucepan. My mom flips through coupons that are likely expired. Santi leans against the counter, investigating an apple. And Gracie, well, she meets our eyes, grins maniacally, and winks.

Jesus.

I clear my throat.

My mother jumps. “Nathalie! Wow. You’re here! We didn’t realize.”

Deon bites back a laugh, and his shoulders shake in my peripheral vision. “Mhm. Sure,” I respond.

“Hi. I’m Santi.” Santi extends a hand, clasping Deon’s palm and squeezing. He then proceeds to wink and wiggle his eyebrows.

I am going to murder my entire family.

“Santi, please stop flirting with Nathalie’s boyfriend.” My dad doesn’t need to turn around to know what’s happening.

He releases Deon’s hand.

“Are any of your teammates single?”

“Lots of them,” Deon responds.

“Are any of them into men?”

“I don’t know.” Deon is handling this exceptionally well because I want to throttle my brother. Santi glances at me and shifts backward.

“Shame. Let me know if that changes.” He retreats to a safe distance where I can’t slap him upside the head.

I am not a violent person. Unless it’s my siblings, then it’s all-out war.

My mom gives Deon and me a quick hug.

“You can call me Margaret.”

Gracie's body slams my mother to stand in front of Deon. “You’re much hotter in person,” she muses. “I mean, Nathalie could have shared that her boyfriend—first boyfriend, by the way—was this hot and an NFL player. She is batting up.” Deon chokes, and I lose it.

“Gracie!” I step forward to…I don’t know, attack her or something, and her eyes widen, frantically searching for an escape. I’m an arm's length away from her when Deon grabs my hips, pulling me against his chest and trapping me in his arms.

My legs flail as I try to escape, and Deon wheezes with laughter.

Is Deon hotter than I am? Probably. Does Gracie need to point out I’ve never had a boyfriend, and the first one I’ve had is significantly hotter than I am? Absolutely not.

My body settles as Deon speaks. “Thank you for the compliment, but I’m the one batting up. Nathalie is incredibly kind and giving, and for some crazy reason, she’s chosen me.”

The silence in the room is heavy as Deon releases me. My father spins around with a smug smile.

“He passed,” he purrs, his Spanish accent thick. “You can call me Paolo.”

“Passed?” I whisper.

“We had to make sure he was worthy of you.” My dad waves his wooden spoon in dismissal. “He passed.”

“You’ll have to come to the next game.” Deon lounges on a barstool as my father cooks.

“I only watch real fútbol,” my father says dismissively. It’s another one of his stupid tests this evening. First, Gracie’s test. I thought he was finished when he asked Deon about his nutrition regime.

I was wrong.

My whole family is in on this nonsense of ‘making sure Deon is right for me.’ As much as I hate it, their idiotic behavior is working in our favor. They’ve spent so much time ‘testing’ Deon with insane questions and hypotheticals like If you had to choose between saving Nathalie or the president from Godzilla, who would you choose? They haven’t had time to examine the small intricacies of our fake relationship.

Like how every time he moves to touch me, he pauses, as if he’s forcing himself to do so to keep up the act.

“Real Madrid or Barcelona?” Deon asks. He turns slightly, winking at me.

My father gapes, and I have to force back a giggle.

“Real Madrid,” my father responds, attempting to play it cool, but the gears turn in his brain to determine how he can turn my fake boyfriend into a lifetime fan of his favorite team.

A soft knock echoes through the air, and my focus is fixed on Deon and my father when I hear a slight choking sound. I spin to find Gracie’s crush, Aaron, ready to puke, standing beside Declan on the front porch.

Huh?

“He—He’s. Mavericks. Oh my God.” Aaron’s going to faint, and Declan bites his lip to force back his smile.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Declan, hauling them both into the house and out of the bitter cold November has brought to Seattle.

“Deon invited me,” Declan says, and my heart soars out of my chest as Deon rounds the corner, clasping Declan into a warm embrace.

Well, fuck.

That’s not helping the crush.

“Glad you came.” Deon lowers his voice. “I can’t eat all of this food alone.”

“Deon Adams!” Aaron squeals, and I lose it, doubling over in laughter. I forget how people idolize them. When I think of Deon and Declan, it’s memories of Book Club and drunken proposals, not highlight reels and dollar signs. “What is Deon Adams doing in your living room? Why are there NFL players in your living room?”

“I think we broke him,” Declan whispers to Deon.

Deon leans over, whispering back. “Oh, yeah. He’s a goner. Twenty bucks, he doesn’t say more than ten words at dinner.”

“Fifty says he faints,” Declan responds.

“Enough betting,” I chide, separating my two idiots. “Leave the poor kid alone. He’s probably shitting himself.”

Aaron stares with wide eyes, and I clasp Deon’s upper arm, squeezing. A silent Be nice . I repeat the gesture with Declan.

“Aaron, this is my boyfriend, Deon.”

I stumble slightly on the word boyfriend, but I stick the landing.

Deon wears a smug smile as he reaches out a hand, and I pinch his left ass cheek. His eyes swing to mine, and I lift a brow. He is enjoying Aaron’s freak-out a bit too much, and I don’t like the way my cheeks want to rise in a lovestruck smile.

You’ll pay for that later , he mouths, and my toes curl in anticipation.

I hope so. It’s only a deal if you act on the deal.

“I’m Declan.” Declan waves sheepishly as Aaron clutches Deon’s hand, refusing to let go.

“Looks like you have competition.” I jump at the sound of Gracie’s voice in my ear, and her chuckle tickles against my neck. A small flush creeps onto her cheeks.

“Hi, Aaron.” Aaron snatches his hand away from Deon, and his eyes roam along Gracie’s skin.

I grab my two goofballs by the arms, pulling them into the kitchen to give Gracie and Aaron privacy.

“Hey!” Declan hisses, “I wanted to watch that.”

I roll my eyes when Deon shocks me. “Me too.”

Good Lord.

“Leave them alone,” I say, but the command falls on deaf ears as they both peer around the corner, whispering to each other when Gracie or Aaron says something.

I fall onto a barstool.

In so many ways, they are wildly different. Deon guards his heart with barbed wire, while Declan is much freer with his emotions. Declan is loud and outgoing, while Deon is reserved.

But I can see how they fit. I’ve always wondered what happened in the room they shared at the lake house in Michigan.

“They’re coming,” Declan whispers, and they both scramble. Declan slides into a chair next to Santi, and Deon gives me zero warning before his lips smash against mine in a sloppy, awkward kiss.

I’m motionless, and my shocked eyes meet Deon’s wild gaze before they flutter shut, reveling in the way his fingers tangle into the hair at the base of my neck.

After the initial shock, the kiss is soft and slow, and when Deon pulls away, the rest of the world returns.

“Kissing you was my first thought,” he says before I can ask. “Truthfully, it’s pretty much my only thought.”

His skin flushes a soft pink, and I swipe my thumb against his cheek, his heat melting into my skin. Deon steps closer, standing between my thighs.

“You can kiss me whenever you like,” I say, pointedly ignoring the way the rest of the room is eerily quiet. I drop my voice to a whisper. “All you have to do is say the code word.”

I should be grateful he hasn’t because it’s keeping a leash on my crush, but a sliver of hurt creeps into the statement. I want him to say the code word. I want the butterflies I had when he kissed me. I want to be wanted .

That’s what I’ve been looking for.

And even if it’s only physical, I want to experience those butterflies, at least for a little while, before I have to re-enter the black hole that is today’s dating pool.

Deon gaze darkens, and a zap of heat hits my lower stomach.

“If I say the code word, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”

His hands slide against my outer thigh.

I’m vaguely aware every member of my family is lingering in the kitchen, but Deon is consuming my focus. This is doing wonders to convince my family we are madly in love, but the problem is this doesn’t feel like we’re faking it.

This feels incredibly fucking real.

“Dinner is ready.” My mom’s voice clears the lustful haze, and when Deon clasps my hand to lead us to dinner, I clutch on for dear life, afraid if I let go, I’ll tumble into a freefall.