“Gee, thanks,” I lightly hit his arm. “Am I not woo-able?”

“Ooh, toro,” Frederik says, without answering. I laugh, because after all, he’s right.

“Frederik’s right, Dash wasn’t asking me out for real. He had this crazy offer.” I tell them all about the grandmother, the trust fund, and the insane idea that I would play his dutiful girlfriend for the weekend. “… Can you believe it?” I finish.

“What did you say?” Lorelei demands. “You’ll do it, right?”

“Of course she will,” Frederik says.

Two sets of eyes fix on me expectantly. I feel like I’ve stumbled into the Twilight Zone. “Did they inject something into those eel rolls? Of course I didn’t say yes! I barely know the guy. He could be luring unsuspecting women to Palm Beach every other weekend just so he can sweeten up their flesh with copious amounts of key lime pie before cooking them into a casserole.”

Lorelei shakes her head. “Someone’s been watching too much Hannibal.”

Fair point. I just binge-watched every single episode over the last month. “Okay, fine,” I admit, “He’s probably not succumbing to homoerotic cannibalistic urges. That still doesn’t mean I should go.”

“Why not?” Frederik asks. “At least name some sky-high price tag and see if he bites.”

“Um, hello.” I ask. “Did you hear the part where he wants me to be his pretend girlfriend? In front of his grandmother? Don’t you think that’s a little, oh, I don’t know… Batshit? I mean, we’d have to put on a real show to convince her, like we’re in a real relationship. Hold hands, kiss…”

Lorelei gasps. “You like him.”

I scowl. “He’s arrogant, self-important, and has never had to do a day of real work in his life,” I reply quickly.

“Fine, then you lust him.” Lorelei studies me. “Don’t deny it, I can tell, you’re all flushed. And jumpy. You get awfully rabbit-like when you see a guy you want.”

I clear my throat, flashing back to the feel of his hand caressing mine, and those bottomless pools of blue gazing at me…

Busted.

“He’s an attractive guy,” I admit. “Objectively speaking. I would have to be made of stone not to notice.”

“So why not take the gig?” Fredrik pipes up, frowning. “You’d legitimately have a reason to be all over him. You wouldn’t even have to fake it,”

“Nope. Nuh-huh. No way,” I shake my head firmly. “Dash is like… Like… The three-for-one margaritas at Jimmies,” I say, naming an after-work hangout. “Sure, they seem like a great idea—”

“—and you have a ton of fun—” Lorelei chimes in.

“—but then you wake up the next day feeling like you just hit by a truck, and everything is icky, and you wind up vomiting your guts out on 14th Ave. and regretting every moment,” I finish.

Frederik winces. “Good point. I still can’t look tequila in the face.”

“Still, a guy like that would be a great short-term fling,” Lorelei muses. “And you haven’t scratched that itch in, how long is it now?”