3. Chapter 3

I could do this. I could be my hot boss's fake boyfriend. Sure, easy as pie. Pie . Great, now I'm hungry.

Boy, that wine sure was strong. Could wine be strong? Huh. Something to think about. This wasn't me being nervous at all. Nope, not me. I had all my shit together. I wasn't worried about losing my job if all went to hell. Not one bit.

When the driver pulled up in front of the old building, bright with soft lighting, he got out of the SUV and opened the door for us, and suddenly, that wine turned into vinegar in my gut.

"Showtime," Mr. Hayes muttered. "And don't forget to call me Xander. No one calls me Alex or Alexander."

"Okie dokie."

He climbed out of the car first and held out his hand. I hesitated, then took it. His grip was firm, and his hands soft. Despite the delicateness of his skin, his strength exuded confidence when he threaded our fingers together, sending zings through my body.

"Ready, my dear Watson?"

I looked up at him, feeling super small right next to his six-foot-two frame. Sure, I wasn't that short at five-foot-ten, but still, he was just bigger all around. "Ready," I squeaked. I quickly covered it up with a cough and repeated it in a deeper, more manly, and confident voice.

He leaned close to me as we walked toward the entrance, and I could smell the fresh, peppery spice from his skin that had filled the car earlier. "Thanks for doing this."

I swallowed and simply nodded, not wanting to do any more squeaking. How did he suddenly revert me to a hormonal teen?

We stepped up to the door, where an attendant took our tickets and gave us orange wristbands so we could come and go freely throughout the evening. We walked inside to ‘Monster Mash' playing over the numerous speakers, but it was a modern rendition of it with an upbeat tempo. The lighting was dim, and the ceiling was covered in Halloween-colored balloons of orange, yellow, black, and purple. The old building had been modernized inside while keeping in line with its historic roots of the French Quarter with exposed brick walls, wrought iron trim along the stairs, and a wooden bar.

A woman stepped up to us carrying a digital camera. "Pictures?"

"Sure," Mr. Hayes said.

He tugged me by the hand until we stepped up to a green screen. She took a few pictures of us, and when we wrapped it up, she handed him a card and explained where to get our photos at the end of the night.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yeah, I could use some food."

Still holding my hand, which I was quickly getting used to and enjoying entirely too much, almost like we were a real couple, he led us to a long table covered in assorted finger foods. He let go of my clammy hand and passed a plate to me, which I loaded up with as much food as I could, creating a tower of tasty treats. I held the plate steadily as the tower trembled precariously.

"You know, you are allowed to come back for more," he chuckled.

"Oh…" I shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "I'm a sucker for finger foods."

"Apparently."

My face heated, but I hauled my ungodly high pile of food to a nearby empty table. When I sat down, Mr. Hayes… No. Xander sat down next to me. Like, right next to me and close enough that we were touching knees. My stomach twisted in a good way. Maybe it was a bad way, considering I was already liking this fake dating thing too much, despite my reservations.

While I'd complained about it being inappropriate, which it was, I was more worried about my growing infatuation with my boss, especially seeing him outside of work and realizing he wasn't as grumpy as I initially perceived him to be.

"Tell me more about yourself, Greyson."

I wiped my hands and face on a napkin after sucking from the head of a crawfish. "Well, I grew up in Baton Rouge and came to New Orleans, and not just for work. I love it here. The energy of the place, the old-world feel… love it. My life is pretty boring, really. I grew up with loving parents and older twin sisters who used to torment me to no end, dressing me up in their clothes or testing out the latest makeup trend, much to my father's dismay."

"The baby of the family, huh?"

I smiled. "Yes, and the family favorite, of course."

"Of course."

"I played tennis in high school, was bullied way too much from being gay to wearing glasses or not being part of the American favorite pastime of playing football." I shrugged and popped some Cajun-fried shrimp into my mouth.

"You seemed to have come out okay."

"I'm awesome like that," I winked. Ugh, did I just wink at my boss? Gross. "What about you?" Yes, let's stop talking about me before I make more of a fool of myself. "Something that no one else really knows about you."

He chewed on a spoonful of gumbo, swallowed, and then wiped his mouth, seemingly debating on how much to tell me, judging by his long pause. "Well, it's not uncommon knowledge, but I don't exactly advertise it, either. I grew up in the foster care system until I was eight. My parents died in a car accident, and there was no one else, so they dumped me into the system until my current parents adopted me. They couldn't conceive, so they fostered me. Honestly, I was surprised they didn't want a baby instead, but they understood how hard it was for older children in foster care, so they wanted to take in a child that would be less likely to be adopted. I went from having nothing to having everything I could ever dream of."

Wow, I had no idea. No wonder Xander wanted to start something all on his own, even if he had a little financial help. I rested my chin in my hand as my admiration grew for my gorgeous boss. "That's amazing. I'm glad you got a new family."

He smiled and looked unusually shy. "Me too. They went on to adopt three more children from the system. I was the first. Then came my two brothers and one sister. My little sister has Down syndrome and is the sweetest thing. But since I'm the oldest, I'm my grandfather's favorite. He's also the hardest on me because of it."

I loved that. What an interesting family. Great parents to take in those kids who were less fortunate. I had to beat back the growing admiration with a stick. No getting attached to my boss.

We chatted about our lives and friends for a while longer until we finished eating, then we headed to the bar for a couple of drinks upstairs on the mezzanine.

"I've actually got a private table up here, but I like to be in the crowd. Then again, the bar upstairs is quieter, and we won't have to wait in line for a drink."

I'd been so lost in Xander's blue eyes and talking about himself while slowly falling harder than I should because, hello, he was my boss, so I didn't really take in the crowd.

Once we got our drinks, we stood shoulder to shoulder against the ornate wrought-iron railing to look down on the people dancing the night away, wearing amazing costumes. I loved people-watching. That was the beauty of New Orleans. So many came here to dress up, party, and live life. And locals knew how to throw an awesome party.

There were way too many witches and Draculas . There was a cool mummy that looked surprisingly realistic, a few zombies, and a gay couple dressed up as Cleopatra and Mark Antony, which I absolutely adored.

"While I miss my friends tonight, this place is amazing," I said.

He looked over at me with thoughtful eyes. "I got demanding yesterday. Sorry, I was just… under some stress and pressure. And a little desperate. I didn't want you saying no."

I gave his shoulder a little nudge with mine and sipped my cabernet. "Forgiven. But yeah, I miss my friends. I haven't seen them as much as I would like."

"It's a busy job. I'm not easy on my employees. Especially since I'm still growing, and growing rapidly."

"It's a good job."

"And you do great work. I don't tell you that enough, I know. You're always on top of everything and ease my burden immensely."

Le sigh …

Yep, that was what I needed to hear—to feel appreciated for how hard I worked.

"Thanks," I muttered into my wineglass to mask my blushing despite the lighting being dim enough to hide it. "So, is your friend here?" I asked, quickly changing the subject.

"I haven't seen him yet."

"Should we practice kissing before he shows up?" I asked, feeling bolder now that I'd had another glass of wine. I'd intended it to be a joke, but Xander's smolder had me suddenly questioning everything. I gulped at his intense stare before he smirked.

"Surely, we both know how to kiss."

Touché .

Then he leaned in closer to me. So close I could feel the heat from his skin against my face and smell his now familiar spice. "Do you need to practice?"

I coughed to make sure I didn't squeak again and shrugged to play it cool. "Maybe. I mean, it's been a while. A whole three months since I kissed anyone."

"I don't need to know about you kissing other men."

What did that mean? Why was he being all growly? And why did the blood go straight to my dick? Down, boy .

Before I could respond, a man clapped Xander on the back, dragging his attention away.

Ugh. No. We were so close. Close to what? A kiss? No, he wasn't going to really kiss me, was he? We were just messing around and having fun, right? Right.