Page 50 of Playing His Game

Adam stayed silent on the way out of the restaurant, even when Mo, out of sight of his parents, stopped at the maître d’ to leave a large tip for their server and the bar. She was good at her job and didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow at the request. Adam did, but Mo gave him a look that hopefully conveyedNot in publicclearly enough.

Outside, Mo looked longingly at the valet. He hated to leave his baby behind or call an Uber, but he wasn’t foolish enough to drive after that third glass of wine.

“I could drive,” Adam said softly, almost tentatively.

Mo looked up. “What?”

“If you want, I could drive your car to yours.”

Mo blinked. He never let anyone drive his cars. The only one he trusted to that degree was Sage, and Sage themself would be the first to tell anyone loaning them keys was a terrible idea.

“I only had one glass.” Adam bit his lip, and it struck Mo that his silence might seem like rejection.

“Uh, you sure? I mean, it’s a detour for you.” If Adam took Mo home, he’d have to Uber from there.

Adam gave him a look. “Of course I’m sure. It’s not even nine.” He stepped forward to signal the valet, who immediately scampered off.

By the time they were on the road, he’d clearly had more than enough time to build up steam. Not that you could tell from his steady hands and careful driving. “What the fuck is wrong with your parents?”

Mo sighed. “Everything?”

“I wasn’t expecting much since you hate them, but I wasn’t expecting having-to-tip-behind-their-back bad.”

“I didn’thaveto,” Mo said weakly, apparently unable to condemn them for crimes they hadn’t committed.

“So why did you?”

“Because they never tip more than fifteen percent, which is definitely not enough for having to put up with them.” They used to be worse, until someone from their social circle got blasted on socials for not tipping. Now they tipped just enough.

“God, they probably think tipping has to be earned.”

“Yup. If servers deserved minimum wage, then why don’t they make it?”

“I bet they’re the first and loudest to complain too.”

Mo wasn’t going to reward that level of basic deduction. He’d warned Adam, hadn’t he?

“I thought maybe when we started this and you said you didn’t want to fall out of favor with them, you were trying to repair the relationship. Mo, why the fuck do you care?”

Why did Adam? He wouldn’t have to put up with private meals with the Du Ponts after they fake broke up their fake relationship. Hell, with their upcoming travel to Europe, they might be able to escape a redo of tonight until the off-season, by which point, they could probably safely bring things to an end.

“I told you they were awful.”

“You undersold it.”

Mo caught himself chewing his thumbnail and flinched. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next fake boyfriend. What would you recommend I add on to the speech?”

“I don’t know, maybe the food warfare,” Adam sniped, grip tightening on the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry my childhood was so fucked up that I forgot that not everyone has parents who want to control their food choices. Is that better?”

“Jesus. They do that every time?”

“Yes! I told you they were horrible. Why is this a surprise?”

“Because that’spsychotic!”

“I know!” Mo all but yelled back as Adam pulled the car into the driveway.