Pump Fake (The New York Nighthawks #9) Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Sports, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
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Keeping her hand in mine, I shut the door and walked her up to the house. “Good night, baby. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at five.”

Talia’s brow rose. “Why?”

“I’m going to take you on a date,” I informed her. “We need to get to know each other better.”

She smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

4

TALIA

My second day at work was even better than the first—in large part due to the giant bouquet Brady sent me. The arrangement was so big that I couldn’t imagine how I would ever be able to transport it home with me, so I handed out flowers to the kids in place of gold stars for good behavior. That made me quite popular with my adorable charges, and I still had a sizable bouquet when I left after my shift.

Brady waited for me right outside at the curb in front of the building, and I flashed him a sheepish smile when his brow furrowed as he took in the flowers I was holding. “I hope you don’t mind. I shared some flowers with the kids since there were so many.”

He returned my smile and shook his head. “Not at all, baby.”

“Thanks again for sending them.” I had sent him a text and photo of the arrangement when they were delivered, but he deserved to hear it from me in person too. Even if he’d only done it because he wanted to be convincing in his role as my pretend boyfriend. “I wasn’t kidding when I said that I loved flowers, so they seriously were the best surprise.”

I watched as the muscles in his arms bunched as he turned the wheel to pull away from the curb. “It’s a good thing you mentioned that when you texted me because you gave me the perfect inspiration for our date tonight.”

Glancing down at my outfit, I mentally kicked myself for not bringing something to change into and heaved a deep sigh. I’d worn jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt again because I knew I’d be spending most of my day crawling around the floor with kids. Although he was dressed similarly, the standards were different for women and men…especially when the guy was a famous football player. “I hope I don’t stand out like a sore thumb wherever we’re going.”

“Nice try at getting me to spoil the surprise.” He winked at me and added, “But the only way you’d ever stand out is because you’re too fucking beautiful.”

He took FDR Drive north, and as we drove along the East River, I tried to figure out where we could possibly be going. It wasn’t until a little while after he exited and we went past the Bronx Zoo that I remembered what he’d said about how my text about loving flowers had inspired him. I started to get super excited until I realized it was already almost six. “I hate to break it to you, but if we’re headed to the Botanical Garden, they close soon.”

“They do,” he agreed, seeming unworried, which only confused me further when he turned into the Mosholu Entrance, and a guard directed us to park in one of the tree-lined spots directly across from the Hudson Garden Grill. After he turned off the engine, he twisted in his seat with a smile. “Luckily, nobody had the restaurant booked for a private event tonight, so we have it all to ourselves.”

I stared at him with a dazed look as he climbed out of the car and circled around to open my door. I wasn’t sure what I expected for my first date ever—especially since it wasn’t truly real as I was only pretending to be Brady’s girlfriend—but it definitely wasn’t a private dinner at the Botanical Garden.

A man waited at the door of the restaurant as we approached. He led us through the empty space and out to the back, where one table was set under the awning. The glow from the lights inside was enhanced by fairy lights which were strung above our heads. “Wow,” I breathed.

“If you follow the walkway”—the employee pointed directly ahead of us—“you can tour the Home Garden Center and the Rosen Seasonal Walk while the chef prepares your meal.”

“Thanks,” Brady murmured as he placed his hand on my lower back to guide me in that direction.

“I can’t believe you arranged all of this for our date when I’m only your fake girlfriend.” I said it so I didn’t forget this wasn’t real, but Brady looked oddly irritated by the reminder for someone who’d come up with this whole plan.

A muscle in his jaw jumped as he muttered, “It wasn’t that much. All I did was make one phone call.”

“The perks of being a famous professional athlete, huh?” He chuckled, and I asked him questions about his football career as we went through the model gardens filled with fall flowers.


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