Fake It Baby One More Time: A Fake Romance Collection

by Logan Chance

“Oh. It was sitting on your porch like it belonged here,” she excuses her cat faux pas. “I’m June, by the way.”

  “Addison.” I lean down to inspect the friendly feline currently curling around my legs for tags and there are none.

  “Is your basement finished?” Helena asks, opening a door in the kitchen.

  I have no clue whether it’s finished or not, but she doesn’t even wait for my answer before disappearing through the door. We follow her single file downstairs, and I marvel at the fact that not only is our basement finished, but it’s like a whole other house down here.

  It’s bigger than my home, and it makes me wonder what the FBI did to secure this place.

  “Your place is much bigger than mine,” Miffie informs me. “I guess we’ll be having cookbook club here instead of my house.”

  “Cookbook club?”

  “Yes. You’ll love it. We meet and cook a recipe every Thursday from various cookbooks,” Miffie informs me. “And drink lots of wine.”

  “Ah,” is all I can come up with.

  They’re like private detectives, scanning every nook and cranny of the basement, and I need to put a stop to this. Gain the control back. “Ok, ladies. My husband and I have a lot to sort out with unpacking and the movers,” I say in my best apologetic voice, moving toward the stairs. “Let’s reconvene on another day.”

  They follow me back upstairs, where we exchange phone numbers like we’ve known each other more than fives minutes, and I politely say my goodbyes with such grace they don’t even realize they’re being kicked out as they take off to their own homes.

  “Any ideas?” Vin asks when I’m finally alone in the kitchen.

  I whirl around to face him and try to avoid staring at his lips. My brain is all confused from the earlier kiss and wants to focus on his sexy instead of the task at hand. “On who the criminal is?”

  He grins, making it impossible to not gawk at his mouth. “Yeah, any thoughts.”

  I shake my head. “They all seemed... normal.” A messed up kind of normal, but normal nonetheless.

  “Here.” Vin thrusts a credit card into my hands. “Before I forget.”

  I stare at the blue card with Vin’s real name on it. “What is this for?”

  “Steele gave me some money for inconsequentials and shit like that.”

  I smile. “Oh, ok.”

  He grips the card in my hand. “This doesn’t mean go crazy with spending.”

  I shake my head. “I would never.” Growing up with nothing, I’ve learned how to count my pennies and make them last. Besides, the last thing I would want Steele thinking about me is that I’m bad at this assignment.

  “Also listen,” he steps closer with an earnest expression, “sorry about the kiss. I just wanted to make a show of it early on so we wouldn’t be questioned later about the no PDA thing.”

  I wave off his apology as if the kiss meant nothing, then tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “No, it’s ok. I don’t think that kiss would make front page gossip with everyone.”

  He laughs, but it’s hollow. “I’ll have to subscribe to the town’s newsletter. I’m sure they have one.”

  “That’s what I don’t get. They’re all so snoopy. How does someone get away with laundering money for the mob?”

  He shrugs. “We’re going to find out.”

  For the rest of the day, we finish setting up our playhouse with the things the FBI secured from various model homes, and I probably spend too much time placing things like the really cool set of mason jar canisters in the kitchen. Decorating is fun, but I need out of here asap so there are no more damp panty incidents.

  Once I have the kitchen set up, and can’t avoid it any longer, I head to the basement to find Vin.

  “It’s like Fort Knox in here,” I marvel, entering the basement backroom Vin has set up as ground base with surveillance equipment capturing the neighborhood.

  “Hey, let me show you all these.” He points to the screens. “Some of these are in general locations. Grubbs acted like the internet guy to put some of these up around town. And I picked up this...” He moves to a monstrous sized whiteboard on the far wall and writes the word ‘SUSPECTS’ at the top with a black dry erase marker. “It’ll be just like at the station.

  That’s all well and good, but to get this finished so I don’t notice the way the muscles flex in his forearm as he writes, we need a solid plan. “I was thinking, maybe we should have a housewarming party? Invite the neighbors?”

  Vin takes a seat and rubs his scruffy chin, mulling over my idea. He needs to hurry up, because his long legs and the way his jeans hug his thighs is distracting me.

  “I saw how those women were today,” he finally says, after what seems like years. “Think we can keep them from snooping in here?”

  “We need to get a better lock for this door.”

  He chuckles. “And when they ask why this room is locked?”

  I wink. “We’ll just say it’s our sex dungeon.”

  Vin leans back in his chair, raising his well-sculpted arms and locking his fingers behind his head. “Oh, now I like that.”

  That’s why I need out of here. Since when do I say things about sex dungeons? I blink, stepping toward the door. “I’m going to finish unpacking.”

  “I’m going to get a better lock for this door. Want me to pick up dinner while I’m in town?”

  “Sure, I’ll have whatever you find.”

  More often than not, dinner is a TV dinner when I get home late from the office. It’s weird having someone organizing my next meal. It’s even weirder, to have someone to eat every meal with.

  “I’ll be back in a bit.” He stands, and when he’s gone, part of me hopes he doesn’t return, because I did not realize how intense pretending to be married to Vin would be. It’s like riding a horse through a tornado, and any moment I’m going to be bucked off and then blown to bits.

  Eight

  Vin

  Tools should get my mind off the vixen fluttering about, decorating our fake home, like a sexy swallow. Swallow. Wonder if she swallows? Yeah, I definitely need to spend some testosterone time away from her, fixate on some power tools instead of my pretend wife. Things like drills...or hammers...or screwdrivers. Fuck, why are tool names so sexual?

  I park the Rover in the first available spot at Fowler’s Hardware. The mustard yellow warehouse has a big box feel on a smaller scale; it’s a great front store to launder money through. I don’t let my imagination get away from me just yet, but it’s definitely going on the list of possibilities.

  Plants and mini trees line the front of the building, and when I step through the sliding glass door, I’m met by a cool whoosh of air conditioning, and just the man I wanted to see, wearing a yellow polo shirt and black slacks. I didn’t pick today on a whim, I know that every Saturday Chester stands at the front and greets customers as they enter the store. Like Samson judging every patron as they pass.

  “How can I help you today?” he asks with an arched brow.

  “Looking for an interior lock.”

  “Aisle five.” He points toward the other side of the store. “You new around here?”

  I extend my hand. “Vin Davenport. Yes, we just moved in.”

  “Chester Fowler.” He shakes my hand, letting the judgement slide off his face and a weary smile appears in its place. “I’m sure you’ve already met my wife, Helena. She told me she was up by your place earlier today.”

  “I think I’ve met a whole haggle of women.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, they can be something else.”

  “That’s for sure.” I step away. “Nice meeting you, Chester.”

  “Likewise.”

  I feel his eyes boring into my back as I wander to the aisle with a giant ‘five’ sign overhead.

  It probably excites me a little more than it should when I locate the perfect lock—a touchscreen deadbolt with accent handle. This baby will keep everyone out and look good doing it.

  I
spend some time browsing the aisles of different tools before heading up front to pay. Chester steps up, cutting me off, before I can get in one of the long ass checkout lines. Like a hawk, he eyes the lock, then me.

  “Can’t let the misses into the mancave,” I joke.

  “I get it. I have a few doors my wife can’t get into.” He chuckles, and besides the fact it’s very high pitched for a man of his size, it makes me want to visit his house and see what exactly he’s hiding. “Let me ring you up and get you on your way.”

  “Thanks,” I say, following him over to customer service. “We’re having a housewarming party as soon as we get settled. I’ll make sure Addison lets Helena know about it.”

  “Sure thing.” He rings up the lock, and I pay him with a stack of crisp cash from my wallet.

  When I leave the store, I don’t go directly to my Rover in the lot. I want to get a feel for the community and see what else this place has to offer.

  Right next to the hardware store is a grocery store, and I watch for a minute as people shuffle in and out. There are a few more storefronts. Nothing too suspicious, just your normal stores: dry cleaners, electronics store, and even a vintage clothing boutique.

  Once I get to my Rover, I pull out of the lot, and onto my mission of finding food.

  I’ve known Buckley for a while, but I have no idea what she likes to eat. I’ve never worked this closely with her before. She was always chained to the desk while I worked in the field, undercover, and whatever else the director threw at me.

  The town has a plethora of restaurants to choose from—pizza, Thai, fried chicken, and a bunch more—and after riding up and down the main artery, I decide Chinese seems like a safe bet, so I pick up a variety of things to-go. Sesame chicken, orange chicken, spicy beef, and pretty much the whole menu is in the brown paper bag the cashier hands me.

  When I pull up to the house, the sun hangs low in the sky, night creeping up all too quickly. It’s been a long first day, but I’m feeling pretty good about things...until I enter the kitchen and spot Buckley in the last thing I expect…a red lace bra to match the panties.

  Nine

  Addison

  “I got Chinese,” Vin calls out, entering the kitchen. “I also met Helena’s husband Chest...”

  He slides in the puddle of spilled mop water I haven’t had a chance to clean up yet, and regains his balance just before his eyes drop to my exposed chest.

  “Oh my god,” I squeak out as I slam the laundry room door shut.

  What the hell was I thinking not going upstairs to get something to wear before I tossed my soaked sundress in the dryer? Damn you, Mopnado. I just wanted to clean the marks on the tile one of the movers left, and to test the Mopnado, but the bucket was a little heavier than I expected, and it ended up looking like I was entering a wet t-shirt contest. Since this dryer is a luxury machine, I figured five minutes tops to dry my dress. And if I’m being honest, I was too enamoured with all the bells and whistles on the dryer to think about anything else, like what if Vin caught me.

  In a rush, I open the dryer door, pull out my now dry dress and slip it over my head. How can I go back out there and face him on the other side? I study the door of the laundry room and debate just staying in here. The best way to handle this, I decide, is to act like it didn’t happen.

  With a smile, I open the door. “Smells delicious.”

  Vin glances up from his spot at the island, where he stands pulling containers out of a brown bag.

  “What did you think about Chester?” I ask him.

  It takes him a few moments before he answers, but his eyes tell me he hasn’t forgotten what I’m trying to pretend didn’t just happen. “He’s a little off,” he finally tells me. “More than that though, it’s like he was suspicious of me.”

  As if it was no big deal he just saw me undressed, I grab plates and together we divvy up the food.

  “How so?” I grab a stool and take a seat.

  “Just a feeling I got. I also told him about the party.”

  I slide a fork over to Vin as I tell him about a few ideas I’ve had about the housewarming party. “Miffie called while you were out and I told her about it. She said everyone will be here, mainly just to snoop.”

  He laughs, forking a piece of chicken. “These people are unreal, huh?”

  “Oh, and we have a cat, apparently.”

  “No way.” He glances around. “Where is it?”

  “I put it back outside.”

  His dark eyes meet mine. “Listen, we can’t have a cat running around here.”

  I laugh. “He’s an outdoor cat. It’ll be fine.”

  We eat in silence for a bit, and my plan to ignore the situation is going superb until he spears a red bell pepper and speaks, “So, are you planning on walking around in your bra and panties every day?”

  My chicken hangs in my throat, and I give it a hard swallow. “I had an incident.”

  “An incident?”

  “Yes, the Mopnado wasn’t as user friendly as I thought it would be.” He slides the red pepper off his fork with a sensual tongue move as I speak, “And I wanted to check out the dryer, ok? It plays music by the way, and then you walked in.”

  “Ah, well, I’m definitely not complaining. But, if you have any more Mopnado incidents, make sure you close the door. ‘Cause these women have husbands, and this house has windows, and I don’t want them getting a view of my pretend wife in her hot as fuck bra and panties.”

  I’m not sure what’s happening to me, but the territorial gleam in his eyes is as confusing as it is hot.

  I stand and move to the trashcan to scrape my plate. “Ok, now that we’ve cleared that up, can we never discuss it again?”

  “Sure,” he says as if he knows exactly why I’m avoiding his eyes, “after dinner, we can get to work.”

  Work sounds great, because I need to get my head in the game and focus on the reason we’re here.

  There were a ton of distractions today with all the women talking a mile a minute, mopnado, and my bra, but I can’t let that deter me from my main goal. I’m here to do a job, and that’s exactly what I plan on doing.

  After dinner is finished, we clean the kitchen and go down into the basement.

  “I think you should focus on Helena first,” Vin says, once we enter the work room.

  “Ok. I was thinking Miffie, too.”

  “Why her?”

  “She seems to know a lot about everyone. She’s like the hub of information.”

  “Ah, ok.” He turns on his computer.

  “And,” I take a seat next to him, scooting my chair away so there is distance between us, “she loves to hear herself talk.”

  “Those are the best kinds of people.” He grins, and then reaches out to roll my chair closer. “You can’t see all the way over there.”

  With a few keystrokes, he turns on the cameras, and the entire neighborhood is spread out between the different screens.

  “Grubbs has been busy,” I say, leaning in to peer at the different angles.

  “Yeah, no one even noticed him today with all the excitement of our move in. Hopefully, we get a lead soon.”

  “Maybe tomorrow we can work on profiling,” I tell him. “Miffie also invited me for an early morning workout on Monday with a few of the girls.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  His eyes don’t leave mine for a moment, and I need to escape his magnetism. “I’ll need to unpack my workout gear.” I stand from my chair. “I should actually go to bed.”

  He stands as well. “Ok, I’m going to stay down here for a while and work.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Have a good night, Bucks.”

  “You too.” I leave the basement, and head upstairs to try my hardest not to dream about him.

  On Monday, bright and freaking early, before the birds are awake, I’m one with the community and nature. I’m walking, at a rather brisk pace I might add, with Miffie and friends: Helena, Kelly, and June.

  I’m
in good shape, but pushing papers behind a desk for so long, I’ve lost the ability to...keep up.

  Miffie walks like her pants are on fire. She’s an effing stallion, complete with a shiny blonde mane and painted on yoga pants.

  Even if I’m dragging behind, I’m styling pretty nicely in black yoga pants and a bright neon green sports bra with matching tennis shoes.

  “I thought this was more for gossiping than actually working out,” I say in hushed tones to June, my lagging behind buddy.

  “I thought that too when I first moved in. Gossiping takes place during the cookbook club on Thursday nights.”

  I like June. If things were different, I could actually see being friends with her. Maybe even best friends. She’s not like the others, meaning she’s not wearing a full face of makeup for our morning exercise.

  “Ah, good to know.” I quicken my pace to keep up. “How long have you lived here?”

  “A year. My husband and I moved here from New Hampshire.”

  “How are you keeping up?” Miffie calls to me from the front of the pack.

  “I’m good.” I wave as she gleams at me from over her shoulder.

  Finally, she stops her feet from taking another step, signaling the end of our workout. “It’s always good to exercise.” She takes a sip from her water bottle. “It’s better to be healthy than dead.”

  She’s completely serious, and I laugh a little as they all say goodbye, leaving me standing next to June. “Coffee?”

  I nod and we make our way to her house. House is an understatement, though. Her English Manor greystone is the biggest on the cul-de-sac.

  She leads me into the two-story stained-glass entryway and through the baronial living room, complete with soaring ceilings, into her kitchen. The oversized space is something right out of a Master Chef cooking show with white cabinets and stainless steel appliances.

  She turns on the coffee pot, and as it percolates, I take a seat at an oak pedestal table by a large window. “Nice view.”

  She beams, removing two oversized red mugs from the cabinet by the refrigerator. “I love it here. I love the mountains off in the distance. It’s home.”