Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
When we reach the car, I load her suitcase into the trunk, shut it, then scan her block. “Now, let’s get you breakfast.”
Fifteen minutes later, she has a toasted bagel and a coffee in hand as she slides into the passenger seat.
Once I’m in the driver’s seat, I push bagels and thank yous out of my mind, shoving them next to desk orgasms and hot mistletoe kisses. It’s time to work on our fake romance plan—phase two.
“Now listen, we can’t fuck up again like we did at the party.”
“With Bibi? You felt that too?" Fable asks, and of course she noticed—she’s the kind of woman who really seems to see people and understand nuance.
“I did. That arched brow of hers gives me nightmares. She can sniff out a lie like a bloodhound in a Santa hat. But I have an idea to keep us on track when we’re in Evergreen Falls.”
“I’m all ears.”
I flick the turn signal as I near Divisadero Street, then toss her a playful smile. “It’s a naughty and nice list.”
24
BOARDROOM BOSS
Fable
Well, then. “Santa Blaine is in the car,” I say.
His lips curve up the slightest bit—a tease of a smile. “It seemed…on brand for us,” he says evenly, an explanation even though he doesn’t need to justify his list. “A naughty and nice game.”
But because I can’t seem to resist teasing him, I add, “And if I’m a good girl, will I get an extra present?”
He flashes me a quick glance as we near the Golden Gate Bridge. Correction: a quick, stern glance. “Ah Fable, you’d have to be an extra good girl to get an extra present,” he says, like a command.
I sit up straighter in the seat. “I can be very, very good,” I say, obedient. Then I arch a brow his way. “I promise.”
He breathes out roughly, like he’s enjoyed those words from me—the promise of them. But maybe that’s just part of this fake dating game, just like I’m into his naughty and nice list because I like a little competition. That’s all.
“What do you want for Christmas then?” he asks, his tone genuine.
I wasn’t expecting him to ask me that. My eyes slice to the rust-colored suspension bridge, a beautiful beast rising over the water. “The Golden Gate Bridge. In a snow globe,” I say, just for fun. And just in case he really does get me something, and I bet he will, since that’s so very him, a snow globe is an affordable gift.
“Then if you’re a good girl, Santa will make sure you have it.”
His voice is deep, hot, a little raspy. It sends a thrum through me. And I need a moment to get my bearings before I respond, “Then I’d better make sure I’m on the nice list.”
“Yes. That’s where you’ll want to be.”
My pulse beats a little faster. I take a long breath to calm down. Refocus. “So, this list. It’s designed to keep us on track in the romance department?”
“Yes, because a close call is too risky,” he says, and I want to tease him a little about the structured nature of his list, but the fact is, he’s right. We’re not simply dipping our toes into the fake dating kiddy pool at the Evergreen Falls Annual Best in Snow Winter Games Competition. After our two public appearances at parties already, we’re definitely a “thing” now. We need to be that thing for the next five days until Christmas since we’ll be in Evergreen Falls through then.
“I agree,” I say.
“If Bibi sniffs us out, that’ll be bad. She’ll have my head. Plus, my mother is coming,” he says.
“From London?” I squeak. I don’t know why this surprises me. Of course it makes sense that his mother would return from London. I just hadn’t thought about her. She has strong Libra energy, he told me at dinner. She’s into the zodiac signs and art and her granddaughter. But that’s all I really know.
“Yes. She’ll be there on the twenty-third,” he says, but his jaw ticks. Like he’s a little uncomfortable. “She’s…very astute.”
My stomach churns. She’s his mom, and moms always know what’s up. Guilt stabs at me. “Wilder,” I say, softly.
“Yes, little elf?” It’s a silly name, but he says it without an ounce of sarcasm. I suspect he’s using it to stay in character.
“Are we going too far? Lying to your mother?”
He seems to give that some thought for a minute. He’s weighing it, I can tell. “It’ll be fine,” he assures me, but that’s not the issue. The issue is I know how he cares about her. Of course he cares about Bibi too, but Bibi can be pushy. From what he’s told me, his mother is not.
“We can tell her,” I offer.
He snaps his gaze quickly to me. “Fable.”
“I mean it. Mac knows. I don’t want you to have to lie to your mother. Clearly you don’t want to.”