“Such as?” He’d been afraid to ask, but how could anyone not ask?
“Pilfering cash. Selling my underwear. Driving my car.” Her eyes narrowed. “No one drives my car.”
He stopped short of asking how many people were allowed to kick her car. Because what the hell? “Did you say someone sold your underwear?”
“There’s an entire industry,” she said dryly. “There’s an app.”
“Yeah, so I’m guessing you don’t need to take the blame for the demise of that particular relationship.” God, he knew he was in New York, but an app? He cleared his throat. “So, what, you’ve never been in anything long term?”
She shook her head. “My average relationship, though I loathe to call them that, has been four weeks or less. I did have one last longer. He was great.”
He blinked, almost afraid to ask. “So what happened?”
“He was a model with aspirations of becoming an A-lister. Apparently he thought he had to uphold a certain image to close the gap, and long story short, I found out I was his beard.”
“His what?” He’d lived in New York City his entire life, but after a few minutes with this woman, he felt like he’d been living under a rock.
She shrugged. “He was gay, and I was supposed to make it look like he wasn’t. He was an awesome boyfriend, though. Probably still is to that guy he was seeing the whole time he was with me.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. So needless to say, my faith in relationships is about as good as my luck. If you want temporary, I’m your girl.”
He caught the hint of sadness lining the flippant remark and instantly hated whoever had done that to her. He couldn’t fix that—hell, he couldn’t fix himself—but he could make her life a bit easier. “If you want a date, I’m your man. Although I’m not sure if that’ll get your mom off your back.”
She rolled her eyes. “Probably not, but actually dating someone is better than just saying I have a date. By the time she finds out we’re over, I’ll be on my way to South America.” She grinned. “I hear the cell reception down there is bad.”
He snorted. “I doubt that’s true of the entire continent.”
“She’ll never know the difference. Anything outside of a major world city might as well be Aboriginal, as far as she’s concerned.” Rue’s voice softened. “Why do you need your family to think you’re dating someone? Surely they understand what you’ve been through. They must care.”
He released a sigh that bordered on a grunt. “They do. They care and care and care until I can’t breathe. And yet I didn’t realize how bad it was until I went to the house today, and everyone looked so damned relieved. All because your mom called mine to discuss the news that we were going to the gala together. They didn’t even know if it was true, but it was like the possibility was enough. It was all they needed.”
“They probably should worry a little more about what you need.”
“They think they are. Which is why it really needs to look like we’re dating, so they’ll stop driving me crazy with all of their worrying. But we won’t be. Dating, I mean.”
Her brow furrowed. “This isn’t easy for you, is it?”
Against all odds, the knot in his chest loosened. “No. But it shouldn’t be this hard. Especially considering this isn’t personal.”
She blinked. “I saw you in your underwear. It’s personal.”
He cringed. “I need a do-over on that moment. And that’s not what I meant.” He withdrew one of his business cards from his wallet, which had fortunately been sheltered from the brunt of the spray that afternoon, and handed it to her. “I’ll run interference with Boyd, and I won’t sell your underwear. You try to keep a straight face when I introduce you to my family as my girlfriend, and don’t hold whatever my brothers say against me.”
She studied the card for a moment. When she looked up, her expression was serious. “Are you going to freak out next time I touch you?”
“I freaked out?” Hell yes, he had, though he’d merely frozen. She couldn’t know that his arm still tingled—even more so now that she’d actually said she was going to touch him again. He hadn’t expected that, but he should have. There was no way they’d pull off dating if he avoided physical contact.