Sutton & Boone

by Paige Tyler

  Kali rolls onto her hip and nudges me. “Don’t keep us waiting, Sutton! What happened at the party?”

  “You first,” I insist. “Tell us about the event you and Grayson went to.”

  Kali makes a face. “It was a work thing with the other lawyers at his firm. I love being with Grayson, but I’m sure you can imagine exactly how the night went.”

  Despite her statement, her face blushes a bright shade of red. I know she’s thinking about that kiss by the car rather than anything that happened at the event.

  “Sutton!” Liv whines, sipping her second glass of wine. “Tell me about what happened. The most excitement I had tonight was Chanel’s attempt at becoming a pro-wrestler.”

  “A pro-what?” Kali yelps, eyes wide.

  Liv waved a hand. “I’ll tell you about it later. After Sutton gives us the scoop on her night.”

  “I met a guy,” I say softly, my voice quivering a little because I’m so giddy. “A handsome, hunky, guy from Texas who saved me from this jerk who was there. We’re going out this weekend.”

  Tugging Boone’s suit jacket out from underneath me, I hold it victoriously in the air with an excited squee.

  “Who is he?” Liv asks, practically bouncing up and down on the couch beside me.

  “Tell us more!” Kali begs.

  I smile wider. If my BFFs are reacting this animatedly, that’s even more confirmation to me that the Glammers are going to go crazy for this news, too.

  “His name is Boone Hammond and he plays rugby for the LA Coyotes. Wait ‘til you meet him! He is a TALL drink of water on a very, very hot day.”

  Kali and Liv pass the jacket between them while barraging me with one question after another. I eagerly fill them in on all the best details. Like how Boone appeared out of nowhere and whisked me off my feet away from that idiot sleazeball and up to the garland-lit terrace. Then I gush on and on about how silky sweet his southern drawl is and how he defended me when the creep stalked us. By the end of the story, I’m as breathless and starry-eyed as my two girlfriends are.

  What I quickly realize, however, is that even though I’m spouting off all these details, I have no intention of telling my besties the truth. That whatever happened tonight is meaningless because Boone and I will never be anything real.

  The stray thought hits me like a punch to the stomach.

  Unable to catch my breath, I choke on my words and fall speechless for perhaps the first time in my life. This only makes Kali and Liv squeal louder because they think I’m simply overwhelmed by how hard I’m already falling for this guy.

  Unfortunately for me, that’s something I can never do.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The afternoon sun bathes the beach in warm, golden light that glitters atop cresting waves. The sea air and hypnotizing sound of the ocean envelops us, reminding me how lucky I am to live where I do.

  Boone strolls slightly ahead of me, my hand tucked in his and our fingers are laced. His broad shoulders sway back and forth with every long stride he takes, and he occasionally steals a glance at me to make sure he isn’t walking too fast and that I’m keeping up with him okay.

  This whole fake relationship thing is coming so naturally to the both of us that I have to keep reminding myself that Boone isn’t actually my boyfriend.

  For now, I think that blurred line is going to do more good than bad. I mean, who can give a really powerful performance without leaning into the role a little? That’s like rule number one in acting school. Some would even say that method acting is how you get the best scenes.

  “I’ve never heard of this place before,” Boone muses as he takes in the little burger shack nestled on the golden sands up ahead of us.

  The building is small with a red roof that you can see for miles down the beach. Its walls are dotted with lots of big windows and the doors are always propped open so that the ocean breeze can blow through the tiny restaurant.

  “It’s about to change your life,” I say with a grin. “Franco makes the best burgers in SoCal. Scout’s honor.”

  He chuckles and slows to a stop so I can reach his side. “You, a girl scout? Darlin’, I have trouble imagining that.”

  I tilt my head to the side, giving him a bigger smile as I gaze up at him. “Darlin’,” I repeat playfully with my best southern twang, “there’s a whole lot about me you don’t know yet.”

  Squeezing his hand, I dart across the sand toward Franco’s Burgers, hauling him after me. Boone laughs again, the sound rises above the crashing waves, making my pulse skip a beat.

  Franco’s Burgers isn’t my usual cup of tea when it comes to a date spot, but it’s definitely low-key, which is what I’m looking for. The girls might have had a point when they claimed that I don’t do subtle well, so I decided that having our first date at a tiny burger shack would prove them wrong, even if my true intention is for us to get spotted at some point. Boone and I can pretend like we don’t want anyone to notice us until we’re ready for our big reveal as the hottest new couple in LA.

  It’s like a perfectly crafted movie script.

  Franco’s isn’t crowded yet, but that makes it only more perfect. It will give Boone and me a chance to not only chow down on some amazing food, but also to iron out a few details of our fake relationship.

  My bogus boyfriend and I had been texting the past few days about when to make our big announcement and exactly how we should do so, but we hadn’t come up with a concrete plan quite yet. We figured once we met up for our first “real” date we’d play it by ear from there. I love that Boone is cool with winging it when it comes to doing things. Just like me. It’s refreshing to meet someone who is as spontaneous and relaxed as I am. He just seems to get me without even trying.

  The half dozen or so people in the restaurant enjoying an early dinner glance up as Boone and I head over to a booth, but no one pays much attention to us. This is probably because we’re dressed suitably to play-up our stealthy act, but it almost makes me ache that I can’t throw back the red bandanna headband concealing my hair and command all the attention in the place.

  I was born for the spotlight and playing coy doesn’t come naturally to me.

  For his part, Boone hides his identity with a baseball cap and dark sunglasses. Unsurprisingly, he’s dressed much more casually today than he was at the party in LA. In a fitted blue button-down shirt that makes his eyes look even more radiant than normal and knee-length shorts that show off his perfectly tanned, perfectly toned legs, he is a sexy sight to behold. I’ve opted for a thin but oversized cardigan that hangs around my thighs, concealing a denim miniskirt and a red tank top to match my headband. My long, dark hair is held back in a loose bun.

  We settle down at a cozy booth in the back of the tiny restaurant and a lithe, blond-haired guy immediately darts out from the kitchen to set down the biggest tray of fried mozzarella sticks I’ve ever seen in my life. Just the sight of them has me drooling. The golden slabs of cheesy goodness smell like heaven, but I have no idea why the server is giving them to us since we didn’t order them.

  “I think you have the wrong table,” offers Boone with a smile, but the server shakes his head and jerks a thumb over his left shoulder toward the kitchen.

  “Nah,” the server says with a grin. “Franco saw you coming in, Sutton. After Kali visited with that dude she’s dating, Franco got interviewed by the LA Times and his sales have been off the charts. He wanted you to have a free app to show his thanks to G&G. Let me know when you’re ready to order.”

  With that, the blond guy hurries off to refill water glasses at another table, leaving Boone and me looking at each other in surprise.

  “Dating you is going to have more perks than I expected,” Boone whispers teasingly.

  My southern sweetheart helps himself to a perfectly cooked mozzarella stick and takes a bite before flashing me that cute, frisky grin that never fails to make my whole body tingle. Boone has a way of making me smile and laugh more easily than anyone else I’ve ev
er met. I still haven’t figured out how he manages that, but I love it. It takes everything in me to keep reminding myself that I’m not going to be on his arm forever.

  We’re friends. That’s where the line has to be drawn in the beautiful, warm California sand.

  “Speaking of us dating, I guess it’s time to talk about rules,” I say, fishing my phone out of my pocket and open up the notes document I’ve been working on for the past few days.

  Boone leans back in his chair, still nibbling his mozzarella stick, and frowns. “Wait, you’re really putting together a whole list of rules? What is this, the ten commandments of fake dating?”

  “I’m going to ignore your sass this time, mister,” I snark back with a barely suppressed giggle. “Now then. Commandment number one—as we’ve already discussed—is absolutely no drama. That leads me to the second rule. No drama. Like, for real.”

  A chuckle rumbles up his throat. He folds his arms over his chiseled chest and eyes me behind his shades. “What else have you got on that list, darlin’? I know you didn’t come up with two simple rules and then stop. I’d even be willing to bet you’ve got a whole lot more than ten commandments on there.”

  I roll my eyes dramatically and sarcastically retort, “Look at you. You’re well on your way to being the best fake boyfriend around, aren’t you? You’ve already figured out so much about me.”

  Again, Boone bursts into laughter. Even though I’m lightheartedly heckling the handsome rugby star, he’s actually right. I really do have at least twenty rules on my list. Maybe I should condense things a little.

  I clear my throat and scroll down the document. “I just have a few other very simple things left,” I lie, hurriedly shortening the list in my head. “A—we need to be convincing. If that means some sizzling PDA here and there, I’m fine with it as long as you are.”

  Pausing, I look to him for confirmation and he gives a thoughtful nod. I wish he’d take off his sunglasses so I can see his eyes. Besides being the proverbial window to the soul, they’re also the key to what he’s really thinking in that head of his.

  “And—once our relationship inevitably gets leaked online, we need to be pretty public with seeing each other,” I continue. “That means you showing up in G&G Instagram posts and videos, me going to rugby things, and us having at least two dates a week where we can be spotted.”

  “Simple enough,” agrees Boone without hesitation. “Anything else?”

  “Well…” I hesitate, chewing on my lower lip for a second. “There’s one more rule. We’re in this fake relationship to protect ourselves—me from creeps and you from fangirls. We’re not in this to get hurt, so I think it’s best if we keep feelings out of the mix entirely.”

  He considers that. “So, if we develop feelings for anyone else—or for each other—it’s time to call it quits?”

  It’s my turn to hesitate. “Sounds sensible,” I finally murmur.

  “All the benefits, none of the drama. That’s how we’ll roll,” he says. “Right, darlin’?”

  When I nod in agreement, he nods as well, then rubs his stubble-covered jaw, his sunglass-covered gaze wandering toward the beach. A few gulls caw and swoop down toward where someone dropped their fries earlier. He watches them peck at the fallen food for a few minutes before turning his attention back to me. Pushing his sunglasses up on his head, he rests his forearms on the table and leans forward. His eyes collide with mine so abruptly that it makes my heart lurch in my chest.

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” he states firmly. A slow grin spreads across his handsome face, his eyes gleaming in the sunlight pouring in through the open windows of the small burger shack. There’s a mischievous glint in his gaze that has my stomach doing flip-flops. “Now how about we get people really talking?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Boone’s large hand stretches toward me across the table. I gaze down at the lines of his palm, the skin calloused from years of playing rugby, and wonder just what he has in mind.

  “What do you think, darlin’?” he asks in his velvety smooth southern drawl.

  “I think I’m always down for a show,” I say with a smile, placing my hand firmly over his.

  He chuckles and tosses a few bucks down onto the table for the mozzarella sticks even though Franco gave them to us for free, then puts his sunglasses back on and leaps up, leading me out of the restaurant and toward the beach.

  The ocean breeze billows in from the coast, whipping my cardigan around my thighs. When I squirm out of the oversized sweater and scrunch it underneath one of my arms, Boone takes it from me and flings it over his shoulder. The cardigan flaps in the balmy air as Boone leads me down the beach. We walk side-by-side and hand-in-hand.

  “What are we doing out here?” I call over the gusting, salty wind, grabbing my red headband to keep it from flying off my head.

  Before Boone can answer, a rogue wave suddenly rushes up the beach, sending seagulls flying and crabs scuttling across the sand. The water washes over our feet, soaking both of our shoes before we even have a chance to make a run for it. I leap over the next rolling wave, trying to escape with at least some part of my clothes dry, but the water is faster than I am. Laughing, Boone sweeps me up into his arms and carries me further inland until we’ve escaped the fast tide.

  He gently sets me back on my feet, but keeps his arm around my waist as we continue to stroll along the beach.

  “Where are we going?” I ask curiously, slightly breathless from running away from the waves.

  I know it isn’t toward our cars because we’d left both of them back at Franco’s.

  Smirking faintly, he tugs off his sunglasses and puts them on his head again. Our disguises are vanishing piece by piece.

  “Just for a romantic stroll,” he explains, tightening his arm around my waist and drawing me against him as we continue to meander across the sand. “I think today is the perfect day to make our debut. Don’t you?”

  I grin happily. Boone might be charming and chivalrous—not to mention more good looking than any man has a right to be—but he has a flair for theatrics that speaks right to my heart. We’re starting to get closer to the throngs of people enjoying the beach on this sunny afternoon, and I can tell exactly what Boone is plotting. One of these people is bound to either be a Glammer or a Coyotes fan. At some point, someone is going to notice us together. We’re too sexy not to draw attention, after all.

  But just in case, I decide to take things up a notch.

  Lightly grabbing the headband that Liv helped me fashion to conceal my hair, I tug it off in one effortless move. My long, dark hair flows free of its restraint, the dark tresses rippling in the wind and tumbling over my shoulders. Boone’s molten gaze momentarily caresses me as he admires the view. I can’t blame him for that. I know how gorgeous I am—just as I know how gorgeous he is. That’s how I know my fans are going to go wild when they see us together.

  “We should act like we’re having an intense conversation or something,” I suggest. “Not, like, intense bad, but intense good.” I grin. “Like we’re really into each other.”

  Boone lets out another chuckle. “Why act like we’re having a conversation when you can really have one? Not everything needs to be faked, darlin’, you know?”

  Darlin’.

  The adorable way that word fits his lips makes my heart skip a beat. I’d listen to him read a dictionary simply so I could hear how every word sings from his sweet southern tongue.

  “Tell me about Glossed & Glammed,” he prods gently, giving me a sidelong glance. “I did a little Google searching on it, so I know the gist, but what does it mean to you?”

  “Glossed & Glammed isn’t merely a brand. It’s a lifestyle,” I immediately recite. “We stand for positively enhancing our communities, our viewers’ confidence, and beauty in all peoples’ hearts and homes.”

  I beam up at him proudly, waiting for him to praise my eloquence.

  Instead of bowing down to me, however, Boone frowns a
nd clears his throat. “That’s…um…a mighty fine answer, Sutton,” he concedes eventually.

  I lift a brow, incredulous. “Why does that not sound like a compliment?”

  “Well…” He hesitates, gaze shifting to me, then the sand. “You know what, I’m just going to be honest here. In fact, let’s make that one of the commandments. We have to be frank with each other if we’re going to make this whole thing work.”

  “O-kay,” I say.

  “Darlin’, I could’ve read that line on your website. In fact, I think I did read that line on your website.”

  I purse my lips hard, a little hurt. But Boone isn’t wrong. That answer is the textbook one I always end up relaying when people ask about G&G. Sometimes, I change the reply up a little for some extra sizzle, but the message is always the same at its core.

  His blue eyes soften as he gazes at me. “I just want to know what Glossed & Glammed means to you, you know? For real.”

  Silence drifts between us. I’m caught off guard by his request, so I have to think about it for a moment. People have begun noticing Boone and me now, and cameras are starting to flash. That’s exactly what we were hoping for. It won’t be long before someone posts online about spotting us together.

  Still pondering his question, I stop walking. He halts as well. His arm remains loosely draped around my waist. We might not be getting stalked by a drunken sleazeball, but I still feel that same sense of shelter and security in his embrace that I did on that first night at the party.

  Boone waits patiently for my answer. When my long hair blows in my face, he gently brushes it away and I tip my head up to meet his inquisitive gaze. He’s not merely asking about me because he wants us to look like we’re getting to know one another. He’s asking because he actually does want to get to know me. It’s like I’m being seen and heard for the first time.