by Lexi Ryan
She arches a manicured brow. “Seriously? While he was in the hospital?”
I shake my head. “No. Before. I think that’s why he drank too much.” I sigh. “Maybe why he got behind the wheel when he knew he shouldn’t. He’s been different since Max died—more reckless.”
“Must be going around,” she says, so softly that I almost think I misheard her.
I study her for the first time all day. Bethany is a gorgeous redhead with the energy to match, but today she looks tired. “What do you mean? Are you okay?”
She cocks her head to the side and gives a small smile. I know that smile. It’s the one she gives guys who are trying to pick her up at the bar. The one that says, Oh, you’re so cute, but you’re too oblivious for your own good. “I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
I laugh. “Seriously? Why?”
“Isn’t Teagan one of your best friends?”
“Sure. I mean, she’s a family friend.” I shrug.
“And now you’re sleeping with her too?”
“Bethany—”
She holds up a hand. “I knew the deal, Carter. And, honestly, I never expected this to last as long as it has. I thought . . .” She sighs. “I thought you’d be better by now.”
“Better how?”
“Come on. I know how hard Max’s death hit you. That’s why you reached out to me the first time, remember?”
“I remember you dragging me to your bed.” I’m trying to make her laugh, but she looks sad.
“Well, I was trying to help.” Her smile falls away. “But instead, I became this crutch that you’ve used to keep yourself from moving on—me, Myla, God knows who else.”
Her lecture sounds too much like Jake’s, and irritation rankles so hard that I almost miss what she’s saying. “You’re . . . ending this?”
I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to feel. I should feel like I’m losing something. Bethany is smart, funny, and beautiful. I’ve truly enjoyed the role she’s played in my life this last six months. She was a bright spot when I had so few. But mostly, I’m relieved that she’s doing it so I don’t have to.
“If only there were something here to end,” she says. She takes my hand in hers and squeezes. “I don’t want to be an excuse. Max’s death was awful, but you weren’t to blame. It’s past time that you forgive yourself and go back to the Carter Jackson you were before—the one who was hunting for a woman to spend his life with and not one to warm his bed.” She stands, then leans down to press a kiss to the top of my head.
The maternal gesture is at odds with the relationship we’ve had lately, and it catches me off guard.
I cradle my head in my hands, close my eyes, and try to collect and steady myself. Because suddenly my world feels like its shifting beneath my feet.
Teagan
Shay Jackson opens the door to her apartment after my first knock. Her eyes light up when she sees me. “Speak of the devil,” she says. “I just got off the phone with Ava, who talked to Jake, who said you and Carter were looking mighty friendly at the bar last night. You two are making a habit of that.”
Of course she already knows. Secrets are a rare commodity in the Jackson family. There’s no way he and I are going to pull this off without being the subject of their ongoing game of telephone—even if they do know the truth. “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to talk to you.”
Shay beams and pulls the door wider. “Good. Because I want to know all the details.” Cringing, she shakes her head. “Scratch that. No sex details. You’re my friend, but he’s my brother, and . . . yuck.”
I toss my purse on the counter and go straight to her fridge for a beer. One of the best perks of being friends with the Jackson family is that they always have good beer in the fridge, and after the last few days, I feel like I deserve the empty calories. I grab a second and wave it at Shay.
She shrugs. “Sure. Are you going to explain why my brother was feeling you up last night?”
“My mom saw the picture of us online, and I didn’t tell her it was fake.”
Shay’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh.”
“My sister’s wedding is this weekend, and I asked Carter to go with me—to pretend to be my boyfriend until it’s all over.”
“But your sister’s wedding is here. In Jackson Harbor. This isn’t like taking a guy home and pretending you’re a thing when you’re not.”
“I know. I do. But Shay . . .” I put down my beer then take her hand and squeeze it in both of mine. “The guy my parents want me to marry is coming, and if I’m single, they’ll be relentless in their efforts to set me up.”
“Why not pretend you have a boyfriend who lives in California or something?”
I squeeze her fingers again. “Because my mom has already seen the news about me and Carter. If I’m going to lie, doesn’t it make sense to go with what’s already established?”
She frowns. “I guess. But I wish you didn’t have to lie at all.”
“You and me both,” I mutter. Truth be told, I can’t think about it too much. Every time I do, there’s an ache in my chest, like I’m a child who’s gotten away with breaking a rule. “I feel like a total shit for doing this to my family.”
“Then why do it? Why not tell them the truth and explain that you don’t want this guy there? Surely they value you enough to listen.”
I shake my head. It’s hard to explain Rich and how well he’s entrenched himself in my family’s life. Hard to explain the fear and shame that keeps me from telling anyone the whole truth—whether it’s my family or Shay. Or maybe I don’t want to explain that I’m too much of a coward to ask my sister or mother not to let Rich come—too afraid they’ll ask questions I don’t want to answer. Or worse, that it will piss off Rich and he’ll tell them my secrets. “It’s not that simple.”
“But this is?”
“Pretending to be with Carter beats any alternative I can come up with.” Even if it makes me a liar and a coward. God, I wish I weren’t so damn afraid.
She folds her arms and arches a brow. “And that’s it? Just pretend? No ulterior motives in choosing Carter?”
“He was convenient.”
Shay grunts. “I’m sure that’s all there was to it.”
I shrug. We won’t discuss how good it felt to have him pressed against me or the flurry of butterflies that swarmed in my belly when he touched me at the bar. It would’ve been so easy to stay in his arms all night, to thank him for this favor by taking him home with me. But after running through the details of our weekend together, I left. I didn’t trust myself to stay. Not with the peppy cheerleader lady looking at Carter like he’d broken her heart.
“Do you know anything about Carter and Myla?” I ask. “She was blowing up Carter’s phone last night.” Never mind the fact that she whispered something to him and smacked his ass.
Shay snorts. “Her and most single, age-appropriate women in Jackson Harbor. He’s become such a flirt.”
“It seemed like more than flirtation. Have they been dating?”
“Myla Quincy, right?” She frowns and grabs her phone. “I don’t think so.”
“Who are you calling?”
She grins. “Ava. She used to work with Myla. She might know something.”
I snatch the phone from her hand before she can connect the call. “Don’t. Please?”
“If you and Carter are involved, don’t you want to know?”
I wave a hand. “I have no claim on him. I was just curious.” And jealous. More jealous than I want to admit. I find the bottle opener, open my beer, and drain half of it in one go.
Shay laughs. “I guess you don’t want a glass?”
That easily, the subject of Carter and me is pushed aside. This weekend might be difficult, and maybe I’m making the biggest mistake of my life—lying to my family because I’m too scared to tell them the truth and risking my friendship with Carter when he deserves better—but for now, Shay and I are back to being a couple of single girls. Just t
he way I like it.
Teagan
There are books you read when you’re lonely and need to smile, but sometimes, those are the same books you definitely shouldn’t read when you’re actively lusting after your fake boyfriend. I’ve been waiting for this novel to come out for months—a sexy friends-to-lovers romance about a woman who sets out to seduce her best friend and falls in love in the process. It isn’t doing my libido any favors. I either need to find something else or tell Carter I’m changing the rules of our arrangement, because the way this heroine thinks about her friend feels all too familiar.
One more page, then I’ll put it down and find something else to do.
My phone buzzes before I have to confront how badly I just lied to myself.
Carter: You home?
Me: In my pajamas and curled up with a book. I’m trying to enjoy the calm before the chaos tomorrow.
Carter: Want to come to the door?
Frowning, I push the blanket off my lap and peek out the window. Sure enough, Carter’s Jeep is parked in front of my house. I run to the door and pull it open to find him standing on my front step, a bouquet of bright sunflowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. My stomach flip-flops, practically reaching out and dancing happy circles with my libido. I try to ignore both. Friends.
“What’s this?” I ask, pulling the door wider to let him in.
“Can’t a man bring his girlfriend flowers and wine?”
“Sure he can. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
Chuckling, he heads to my kitchen, sets the wine on the counter, and opens cabinets.
I follow him and grab a vase from under the island. “The wine glasses are by the fridge.” As I reach for the flowers, the brush of our fingers sends a buzz of warmth through me—the twin to the buzz I felt when I opened the door and saw him. It’s been a long day running errands and preparing for the wedding. I should’ve been too busy to think Carter’s name . . . and yet I found myself alternating between giddy anticipation at spending my weekend with him and worries about spending it near Rich.
Every time I caught myself thinking about Jackson Harbor’s most eligible bachelor, I’d feel a little pathetic, but seeing that he’s clearly been thinking about me too? Yeah, hello, warm buzz. “Is this some sort of bribe?”
“I missed you, honey.” He makes a face. “Sweetie? Baby? Love bunny?”
I yank the flowers away and laugh. “Teagan works fine.”
“Oh, no. No one’s going to buy it if I don’t call you by some sort of endearment from time to time. What about legs? I really, really like your legs, so it would be from the heart, at least.”
I roll my eyes and pull the kitchen scissors from the drawer. “You’re not serious.”
“Well, if I called you tits, I’d make myself look like an ass.”
I snort then laugh fully when I can’t hold it back anymore. “If you called me tits, I would think you were an ass. And then I’d kick you out on your ass.”
“Then you’d call me an ass. Or a dick. See? Calling people by body parts is totally normal.”
“And widely considered offensive. Please, resist.”
“But earlobe has a nice ring to it. It’s unique. Everyone would assume there was some heartfelt story behind it.”
“Not legs, not tits, and definitely not earlobe.”
“Are you sure?” He grins. “If I recall, you rather enjoy it when I give attention to that body part.”
“I’m sure.”
He opens the drawer by the sink and pulls out a corkscrew. “What did Heath call you?”
My hands still over the flower stems I’m cutting, and I have to swallow hard and take a deep breath before I can answer. “He . . . Why does it matter?”
Carter studies me for a beat, and I think he’s going to ask me a question about it, but then he shrugs. “Only because I want to be original. It wouldn’t do for me to call you the same nickname he did. Or Rich, for that matter.” Is it me, or is there jealousy in his voice when he says Rich’s name?
“No one will think it’s strange if you call me Teagan.”
“Whatever you say, pinkie finger.”
Another snort of laughter bubbles out of me. Not because it’s that funny but because it’s not that funny and he’s amusing the shit out of himself with it. “Oh my God. What has gotten into you today?”
He shrugs as he pours our wine. “I’m in a good mood. I have the next five days off, and I’m spending them with a beautiful woman. Can you blame me for being upbeat?” He hands me a glass and takes a long sip from his own before making a face. “Oh, hell.”
I frown. “What?”
He wipes the back of his mouth with his hand. “Jake’s trying to make wine. This is his first batch, and . . .” He shudders and takes my glass away. He dumps them both in the sink. “Let’s just say that either sleep deprivation from the baby is starting to affect his judgment, or he should stick with beer.”
He reaches for the bottle, but I snatch it off the counter before he can dump it too. “I want to try.”
He folds his arms, watching me as I bring the bottle to my lips.
I take a sip, then cough. “Dear Lord. It tastes like vinegar.”
“I was trying to be gallant and save you.”
Pursing my lips, I shove the bottle at him. “And not even good vinegar.”
“Agreed.” He dumps the bottle down the sink. “I thought we should make bourbon, but Brayden did a market analysis and insisted the market for wine is better for our clientele.”
“I have beer in the fridge.” I return to the flowers while Carter rummages through my fridge to find us some drinks. By the time I’m done arranging them in the vase, he’s opened a bomber of the Jackson Brews Blueberry Sour and poured us each a glass.
“Much better,” he says, sighing.
I take a sip and nod. “Don’t you all have enough to do without adding wine to your offerings? What’s next? Buying a vineyard?”
“That would be awesome, but no. We’re all big thinkers. We can’t help but imagine new opportunities for the company.” He shrugs. “But I’m not here to talk about the family business, ligament.”
I cough on my beer. That might be the worst one yet. “Why are you here? Other than to call me seriously disturbing pet names?”
“Your family arrives tomorrow.”
I nod. “We’ll head over together after lunch if that’s still okay with you.”
“It’s great.” He pulls a stool out from under the island and sits on it, settling his glass in front of him. “But if we’re going to be convincing, I figured we should make sure we have our bases covered in terms of information. I need to know everything I’d know about you if we were truly involved.”
I lean back against the opposite counter and study him. “Don’t we already know each other pretty well?”
“As friends, sure, but I don’t know you intimately.”
“After Saturday, you certainly know me more intimately than most of my friends,” I mutter. When he shoots me a mischievous grin, I roll my eyes. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Well, first we’re going to need to explain why we told Rich we’d been together two months a year ago and then I told everyone on Saturday that we’d been dating for two months.”
Crap. He’s absolutely right. It’s obvious, and yet I’d been so relieved to know Carter would be by my side that I hadn’t given that explanation any thought. “Okay, we were dating last year for a couple of months, but things were getting serious and you didn’t want that.”
He gapes, pressing a hand to his chest. “I didn’t want it? Do you want to make me look like a commitment-phobic asshole?”
“What if I broke up with you because you called me really obnoxious pet names?”
“How about saying it was mutual? Things were getting serious, and neither of us was ready for that.”
I consider, running it over from a couple of angles in my head before nodding. I don�
�t want either of us to sound like a jerk in whatever story we concoct. “That works.”
“Though I secretly was ready,” he says. “I just didn’t want to rush you because I understand that my job was part of the reason you were afraid to get too close.”
I flinch. They say the best lies are based in truth, but that one feels like it’s too close to home. So close it’s knocking on my damn door. “My sister would certainly buy that.”
“But then we started dating again a couple of months ago,” he says. “This time I’m determined to make you fall as hard for me as I’ve fallen for you.”
It’s weird to have this conversation and weirder to stand here wishing this weren’t pretend, that we were describing our history instead of manufacturing it. I take a long pull from my beer and sigh. It’s so good that I want to drain my glass, but I’ve made that mistake with this one before. “I haven’t eaten much today,” I tell Carter. “I should probably find some food if I don’t want this to go straight to my head. Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
I open the pantry and frown at my pitiful selection. I eat out too much and hate cooking for one, and that’s completely obvious by the lack of food in my house.
Carter comes to stand behind me. “You’re worse than Shay. At least she has whole-wheat bread and stuff for sandwiches most of the time.” He pulls open my freezer and fridge, then nods to the stool. “Sit. I’ll cook, and you can fill me in on the lesser-known details of Teagan Chopra.”
I open my mouth to protest then decide not to. I don’t know if Carter is any good in the kitchen, and that does seem like something I should know. “Okay, you know I have one sister, younger. Her name is Saanvi.”
“And her fiancé?” he asks. “Leroy?”
“Liam.” I’m honestly impressed that he’s even that close. I don’t remember talking about Liam, but I’m sure I have. He came to Jackson Harbor last spring to help Saanvi finalize some wedding details, but I’ve never had the chance to introduce either of them to my friends.
