Because that’s what I care about: Our deal. And my paycheck.

Nothing else. Nothing at all.

I find him outside, heading to his car. “Really?” I catch up, fighting to control my annoyance. “You can’t even play the loyal boyfriend for two whole days? You have to sneak off for some afternoon delight?”

“What now?” Dash looks confused.

“Cindy,” I reply. “Not that I care who you’re seeing,” I add quickly. “But come on, we’re supposed to be selling this fake relationship!”

“Cindy…” he repeats, and then realization dawns. “Wait, you think I’m having a sordid affair with Cindy?”

He looks so amused that I pause. “Well, you were so secretive, and you kept checking your phone, like you didn’t want anyone to see…”

“Because I’m embarrassed.” Dash gives a bashful smile. “And I know you’d give me a hard time if you saw what I was really looking at.”

He passes me his phone, and I brace myself. What’s on here: Fetish websites? Furries?

But it turns out my mind is in the gutter, while his is in the trees.

“Bird Central?” I repeat, looking at the screen.

“It’s a bird-watching app,” Dash explains. “And Cindy’s in my bird-watching group. She’s sixty,” he adds. “And has a bad hip. So no, I’m not rolling in the hay with her.”

“I don’t understand,” I stare at him, thoroughly confused.

Dash rakes a hand through his hair, still bashful. “It’s a hobby of mine. A passion, really. And there’s just been a sighting of a Purple Gallinule nearby. It’s a rare bird,” he explains.

“And that’s really not a euphemism for something dirty?” I ask, still disbelieving that someone as young, hot, and socially adept as Dash would be harboring a secret passion for bird-watching.

He grins. “Nope, just something dorky. See, I knew you’d think it was weird.”

“No!” I protest quickly. “Dorky is great! In fact… What are we waiting for? Let’s go find this magical bird.”

“You want to come along?” Now Dash is disbelieving.

“Sure, why not?” I declare, more curious than ever. “I’ll take fluffy birds over the alligators back in the country club, any day.”

Dash links his arm through mine. “Well, where we’re going, you won’t have to choose.”

10

Callie

Dash drives us to a wildlife preserve about twenty miles outside of town, where we rent a little motorboat, with barely enough room to stash a cooler of drinks and sunscreen before leaving the dock behind.

“It’s a John boat,” Dash explains, as we motor up the waterway. It’s swampy, with cloudy water and thickly overgrown bushes and trees creeping over the water’s edge. “The engine is quieter.”

“All the better to sneak up on this rare bird that has you so riled up,” I tease.

He grins, clearly excited. “I’ll have you know, a Purple Gallinule is a prize find,” he informs me, teasing. “I’ll be the toast of the club if I can get a clear picture.”

“Dash Dashford, bird watcher extraordinaire…” I lean back in my seat, watching him steer us around marshes and low-hanging trees. “I never would have guessed it.”