“That’s a big goddamned jump, Lane.”
He put a hand over his heart as if deeply wounded. “Are you kidding? I am super lovable.”
She snorted, his mock puppy dog look breaking through some of her angst over this whole screwed-up situation. “You’re insane.”
“Probably,” he agreed. “But teasing aside, I don’t think it’s good for you to go into that kind of situation alone.”
“I go into every situation alone. I’ll be fine.” Maybe if she said the words out loud, it would make them true.
He frowned, concern plain on his face. “Family shit is different. They can tear you up with just a few words. Do real damage. Believe me, I’ve been there.”
She tilted her head, wanting to ask what he meant, but he didn’t give her the chance.
“This sounds like it’s going to be a soul-crushing gauntlet. You need at least one person on your side, and it doesn’t sound like you’re going to have any in your family. If you want to go and be able to focus on your mom, I can give you the space to do that.” He reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders, expression serious. “Because I can guarantee you, I’m not going to let your ex mess with you. I can be a nice guy. I like to think I am a nice guy. But I also can be an intimidating motherfucker when the situation calls for it. I’m still a street kid at heart and don’t let anyone mess with my friends.”
The fierce look in his eye and his words had unexpected emotion gathering in her. “Last night I told you we couldn’t be friends. I insulted you. Why would you even give a damn if he hurts me?”
Lane’s stern expression softened and his mouth curved. “The same reason why you give a damn if I fail out of school. I know it may shock you, but this thing right here—where we talk to each other about what’s going on in our lives and the issues we’re dealing with—is what people call forming a friendship.” He said the last few words as if he were speaking to a toddler. “Whether you want to be seen in public with me or not doesn’t change the fact that this is happening. You’re beginning to like me, McCray.”
She straightened, resistance rising in her like a scrappy army.
He lifted his hands from her shoulders and held his palms up. “Don’t freak out and don’t blame yourself. It was inevitable. I am inherently likable. You really had no shot.”
She groaned and tipped her face toward the ceiling. “I seriously hate you.”
He chuckled. Gleefully. Then he leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. “You say the sweetest things, dearest. So when’s our wedding date?”
Her attention snapped back to him. “What?”
He shrugged. “You jumped my case last night because I wanted to do everything on my own for school. You told me to get over myself and accept help. I’m turning your advice back on you. Bring me to the wedding weekend and let me play interference. Accept. Help.”
She crossed her arms and considered him. This had disaster written all over it. She’d seen movies with the fake boyfriend. They never went well. But this wouldn’t be funny hijinks fit for romantic comedy. Her family could be a nightmare, and her ex wasn’t the type to stay in the background. He’d dig into Lane, ask a thousand questions, try to make him look inferior in some way. And all of them would cut into Elle. They could wield passive-aggressive comments like ninjas with throwing stars. She didn’t want anyone to see her in that situation. Her family and ex were the only people who made her feel weak, who reminded her of that desperate, insecure person she used to be when she was with Henry.
But she couldn’t help but be tempted by the lifeline Lane was dangling in front of her. He’d already seen her in weak moments—at the party, last night when she’d lashed out at him, today with her sister. Her secrets were already exposed. He already knew she was screwed up. What did she have to lose? If he went, Lane could be a distraction and run interference. Her family was always better behaved in front of strangers. Maybe his presence could tamp down some of the drama that was sure to ensue if she went alone. They would be the smiling, everything’s-all-right McCrays for him.
The urge to handle everything on her own was a deeply ingrained instinct, but she forced herself to loosen her hold on those reins. She let out a slow breath. “Okay. If you’re willing to sign up for this domestic nightmare, I will let you come with me and help—on one condition.”
Lane’s smile dropped into a grim line. “I go to the Learning Services Center.”
She nodded. “Yes. If I have to swallow a spoonful of pride, you do, too. You get tested—today. If it’s something I can help with, you let me. If it’s not, you find someone who can. You get this paper written and no dropping classes. Doctor’s orders.”
He sighed. “You know they might just tell me I’m dumb and they can’t help me. I’ve had more than one teacher tell me I should just find a workable blue-collar skill.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not dumb.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She stepped into his space and put her hands to his chest. “Because despite what you think you know about me, I have only one absolutely undeniable fetish when it comes to guys.”
He lifted his brows.
“I only get turned on by smart ones. My vagina is very discerning and can spot a hot IQ from a mile away. And you, Lane Cannon, have revved my engine from the very first time I met you—which, of course, has always pissed me off.”
He grinned at that and slipped his hands inside her robe to grip her waist. “So if your vagina is so discerning, how about I skip this testing and she can just whisper to my dick what my issue with this paper is?”
“Have we just personified our private parts?”
“We totally have.”