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)
“She’ll understand,” he says.
He’s ready to move on. But I can’t leave it alone. “Understand that we’re faking it? Or understand why we didn’t tell her? I don’t want you to have to do something you don’t want to do.”
I feel like I’m imploring him. But this whole fake dating scheme was my idea in the first place. Yes, he went along with it. Yes, it benefits him. But I know he adores his mother, and I don’t want him to struggle with the guilt I feel over not telling Charlotte.
Briefly, he looks away from the road, his gaze softer, but determination still in his eyes. “I appreciate your concern. Truly, I do. But she knows what her sister is like. She knows what my sister is like. She understands the necessity.” He takes a beat then moves on. “But I don’t want to focus on me. I want to focus on the bigger issue—the man who’s determined to beat us. The man who wants to show off his new girlfriend in front of you. The man who thinks he knows how to treat a woman,” he bites out. “I won’t let him hurt you. But if Brady finds out,” he says, and the sound he makes is downright feral. It’s a growl, low in his throat. I’m not at all sure what that’s about, but it’s sexy as hell. “He’d seize that opportunity and use it…to gloat.”
Shame crashes into me as I think about the man I mistakenly thought cared about me. For the four months we dated, I believed we were going somewhere. I genuinely liked him. He seemed fun, friendly, eager to please. And, he was eager to please—another woman.
That massive fail in my romance picker is Reminder Number One why I need to be careful with my heart. Why my caution with emotions is a damn good idea. The more I let people in, the more they can hurt me. I shared my hopes and dreams with Brady. I told him about my friends, and how important Josie, Everly, and Maeve were to me. I told him about my desire to open a shop of my own someday. I told him, too, that I was scared.
A lot of good that did.
I grit my teeth, fighting off a wave of tightness in my throat, the threat of tears over my own foolishness.
But I don’t linger too long in this emotion, since Wilder adds, “And I refuse to let him do that—gloat.” It’s said with steel as we wind past the craggy cliffs of the Marin Headlands. His hands grip the wheel tighter. His knuckles are almost white. His reaction to Brady is so intense. No man’s ever reacted that way because of me. I’m not sure what to make of it, but it’s oddly thrilling. Maybe even more so than the double dose of Os he gave me earlier in the week.
“Thank you,” I say, kind of amazed he cares this much about my feelings. It’s new and different.
“It’s your sister’s wedding. I don’t want her or you to worry about a thing. I want you to be able to celebrate your sister like I know you want to.”
My chest squeezes with brand-new emotions. Warm, soft ones. Tender ones. “That means a lot to me.”
“Leo adores her. They’re the real thing,” he says almost solemnly, with heartfelt admiration for the two of them.
“They are.”
“That’s why we need to pull this off. If we make a mistake, and Brady finds out that our romance isn’t real, he will be a dog with a bone. He will never let it go. I can’t have that happen during this special time for your sister. And you. Is that clear?”
Boardroom Boss is absolutely in the car, and I am into it. I love that he wants this to go off without a hitch not simply for himself, but for me and for my sister. His passion is addictive.
“Yes. So how does the list work?”
As we cruise along the highway past Corte Madera, he goes into detail. “At the team party, we made a tactical error by being too over the top with our…affection.”
Ironic, considering we crossed all kinds of affectionate lines already. But there’s a difference between stolen touches behind closed doors and public displays of affection. “Now that the competition is beginning and we’re all in close quarters, we need to come across as real and authentic. We need to sell it less and be it more. First, I suggest we dial back the nicknames, to ‘honey’ perhaps instead of ‘little elf’ all the time. To ‘sweetheart’ or ‘sweetie’ instead of ‘sugar plum.’”
That makes sense. I can see his point. “Simpler names. More believable ones,” I say, then get started right away with a purposeful, “sweetie.”
“Thank you, honey.” He flicks the turn signal and hops into the next lane before he adds, “Along those lines, here’s how I see the game working. There will be plenty of activities in the common area for the cabins. So obviously, when we’re with others and anytime there is some sort of over-the-top gesture from you or from me, we get to call the other one on it.”