Page 51 of Game Plan

“I have a question,” she says once we’re alone.

“Sure.”

“Will you make an announcement that the engagement was real? Or will you just not deny it?”

I hesitate, considering how to answer this. It feels like a trap, like she’s waiting on me to say what she doesn’t want to hear so she can talk her way out of this or renegotiate our agreement.

Where’s she going with this?

“I don’t plan on making a statement, if that’s what you mean,” I say carefully. “But I’m sure it’ll come up in interviews.”

She hums. “When that happens, when it comes up, will you say my name?”

“That’s up to you. You don’t lose agency over yourself in this arrangement, and I want to make sure you understand that.”

Her features soften.

“If you don’t want me mentioning you by name, I won’t,” I say. “Now, I can’t promise that our picture won’t be taken somewhere, or someone won’t go digging and figure out how much time I spend with you and put two and two together. But if you don’t want your name in my mouth, then say the word, and it’s done.”

“That’s not all I want in your mouth.”

I chuckle, dropping my hand beneath the table to adjust myself.

“On a serious note, thank you for that,” she says, her voice soft and sincere.

“For what?”

She starts to answer but stops and reconsiders. “For not assuming anything, I guess. For letting me have a say in it.”

“For letting you have a say in it?” I reach for her hand, confused. “Pop, we’re in this together.”

“I know. And I want you to say my name.”

Really? I give her hand a gentle squeeze, trying not to act surprised as a warmth spreads through my chest. “You do?”

“Uh-huh. Maybe having my name attached to the word fiancée will make these women stop staring at you like they want to rip your clothes off in the middle of the restaurant.”

Laughing, I bring our joined hands to my lips and kiss hers. “That’s funny. I thought we were here alone.”

“Charmer.”

I release her hand as Patrick, the server, returns. He greets me and then turns to say hello to Poppy, but the words are tripped up. She smiles politely, having no idea, or no care, that he’s floundering because of her beauty.

That makes me smile. And proud. She’s with me.

We order drinks and dishes before Patrick leaves, but not without another lingering gaze at my girl. She, however, is busy taking in the room around us.

“I swear,” Poppy says, leaning toward me after Patrick is gone. “Women always stare at you, but it’s worse tonight.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Yeah. A little.”

I grin, enjoying her jealousy. “They’re probably just wondering if the gossip is true. It’ll be better when we get your engagement ring, and it’s obvious.”

“A ring?” Her eyes widen. “No. We don’t have to do that.”

“The hell we don’t. Besides, it’s already in the works.”