He narrowed his eyes. “I’ve told people you’re my girlfriend? So we’re on the same page, right?”

“You mean nobody has asked you what I do for a living? What I’m like? What my favorite things are?”

“No. My brothers mentioned hooking me up with a girl they met. I said I was dating someone now, and then they dropped it. I mentioned it to the Pollards as well in conversation over dinner. Said something like, ‘I’m off the market again.’ And that was that. Why, did you say something weird about me to people?”

“Um, well.” I scratched the back of my neck, hesitating. Were men really that completely devoid of curiosity? Six months and nobody had pressed him for any details about me? Every time I mentioned Dean to people, it was like the freaking Spanish Inquisition. My dad had practically held the kitchen light in my eyes and cuffed me to the table. I think my mom was considering looking up how to water board people if it meant she’d get some info out of me. “I might’ve had to make up some things about you.”

He licked his lips. It was a slow, agonizingly erotic thing to watch. His tongue slipping over those full lips, pulling the bottom one temporarily from view until it popped back out, glistening and practically begging to be kissed.

I dragged my eyes up to his again. “Well, I told people you’re a massage artist.”

He snorted. “Massage artist? Is that a thing?”

“I also said you were a retired animal rescue worker. And some other things.”

“Why would you make up something like that? Why not just tell them I’m a consultant for Pollard? You know, the truth?”

I sighed. “Maybe because I don’t perform well under pressure, okay? When people ask too many questions, I start to kinda freak out. And when I freak out, words just appear in my mouth.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes. So, if anyone asks about you, just let me do the talking and play along. Can you do that?”

“I’m an excellent actor.”

“I can tell,” I said.

He did a little bow, then leaned against the dresser, watching me while his wet hair fell across his blue eyes. “So, you should probably get dressed for the company lunch. Unless you’re wearing that.”

“Company lunch?” I asked.

“Didn’t you read the agenda? Naughty, Pearl. The Pollards sent it out hours ago. You can change in the bathroom. I’ll wait here.”

I shook my head at him. “You’re waiting outside. In the hallway. And you’re giving me your keycard.” I got up from the bed and walked over to him.

He rolled his eyes theatrically, fished out the keycard, and handed it over with a smile. “Happy?”

“Is that the only one?”

“Yep. Scout’s honor.”

I stared up at him, doing my best angry stare as I waited.

Dean let out another long sigh, then reached into his sock and pulled out a second keycard. “Alright. You got me. That’s all of them.”