World's Worst Boyfriend: A Romantic Comedy Adventure (Fake It Book 3) by Carina Taylor (ebook reader online txt) 📗

I pulled him down the hall after me, careful to avoid the living room with all those windows. My room had black-out curtains which were one of the most brilliant inventions ever.

“Are you all right?” I asked as I patted his chest and arms. “How’s your hip?”

“You mean my ass that had a giant splinter in it?”

“Yes, that. I was trying to be sensitive to your current situation.” I tried not to laugh.

“Well, it’s sensitive.” He grinned. “It’s not too bad. Still sore and I don’t want to sit on it, but definitely healing faster than if it had been a gunshot.”

“Here, why don’t you lie down on your good side and get some rest. You need to rest and let it heal.” I placed a hand on his back and pushed him gently toward the bed. The corded muscles along his back were taut under my fingers, testifying to the strain he was under.

“Because first I’d like to stand here and yell at you for showing up at Sullivan’s today. I’d actually like to wring your neck right now,” he growled.

I pushed him onto the bed. He landed on his stomach with a bounce. “You’re in no condition to yell at me.”

“You could have been hurt!” He snapped as he tucked a pillow under his head. “When I saw you on the security cameras, I almost lost my mind. And then you left with him to go to lunch.”

“I was only—”

“He’s a dangerous man!” He leaned up on his elbows and I shoved his face back into the pillow as I climbed onto the bed beside him.

“I was distracting him from you! I was selling him the story that I was taking care of the dog last night, that I was telling the truth and not harboring an undercover cop, you ungrateful man.”

His growl was muffled against the pillow. I let go of his head.

“I sent West to keep an eye on you both.”

“Did Sullivan seem to believe you afterwards?”

Fletcher tensed, then mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?”

He flung an arm out to the side and grabbed my waist, tugging me down to lie next to him. “I said that he stopped asking so many questions when he got back. He was less nervous when he went to his office to work.”

I didn’t even try to hide the smug smile on my face. “So, are you saying it helped?”

“Don’t push your luck,” he growled, his fingers tightening against my hip, dangerously close to my ticklish sides.

“Fletcher,” I tried to keep my voice steady as he slid his hand up to my rib cage, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “If you tickle me, I won’t be responsible for any flailing. I might hurt your wound.”

He sighed and moved his hand away from the danger zone to my lower back, tugging me closer until I was pressed against his side. “Fine. While what you did was incredibly dumb, and something I hope you never do again, your distraction worked. It gave me some time to set up everything for this weekend.”

I kissed his jaw. “Was that painful to say?”

“You have no idea,” he admitted.

Grinning, I reached up and traced a finger around the edge of his ear to the tip of his chin. I stopped when my finger landed on his lips.

“I just thought of something. If you’re undercover, you’re not using your real name! You’re not Fletcher!” I gasped and sat up, despite his best efforts to keep a grip on me.

“I am Fletcher.”

“But how—why—”

“Because I can’t remember to answer to a different name. It was safer for me to keep the same first name. Of course, we changed my last name and all my credentials for the job, but my name really is Fletcher.”

“Then what’s your last name?”

“Farley.”

I snorted. “No, really. What is it?”

He scowled. “My real last name is Farley.”

“Fletcher Farley? Your initials are FF?”

“That’s it,” he said as he grabbed my side and tickled me mercilessly.

I shrieked and tried not to kick him—too hard, that is. “It’s a great last name! Perfect!”

He stopped tickling me and stared in my eyes. “Could you ever be Saidy Farley?”

“No,” I shook my head rapidly. “No way.”

His face went blank.

“When we get married, you’re going to have to take my last name…Perez sounds so much better. Fletcher Perez.” I grinned.

“Come here, you,” he said as he tugged me closer to him. “I’ll just have to kiss you until you forget my last name.”

“I can live with that,” I whispered against his lips.

The scruff on his face scratched my cheeks as he angled to kiss me deeper. His tongue teased the corner of my mouth as I let him in. He was mine. Again. I don’t think I’d ever let him go. I knew he hadn’t let us go.

When I pulled back to catch my breath, Fletcher had the same glazed look in his eyes that I was sure I had.

“We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?” I whispered.

“If I have anything to say about it, we will be,” he promised as he tucked my head under his chin.

We lay there long enough that I would have thought he was asleep, except for the steady hand tracing gentle circles on my back.

“Why don’t you tell me about work? So much has been focused on me the last few days. I want to hear about you.” He planted a kiss against my cheek. “How has everything been going for you?”

His strong arms held me close as I told him about all my current projects and how I’d managed to finish the new build, about relocating the heinous amount of leather out of the police chief’s house, and how I would be finished at The Barre studio by the end of the month. Fletcher listened as I rambled on about the little things I’d changed and adjusted to make an object unique. I told him about how I’d scheduled in two weeks of free time to spend finishing the