Raising his voice to be heard over the wind, Jayce gave Mia the rundown.
Mia shook her head as she listened, but he struggled to read her expression behind her oversize sunglasses. “Why didn’t I know Stacey was seeing someone? I thought we told each other everything.”
Not everything, Jayce thought, with more than one secret in mind.
Ever since they were kids, Mia had followed Jayce around, along with their close friend, Evan Blake. They treated her like their kid sister, and when Jayce moved to LA to pursue his lifelong dream of becoming Hollywood’s next critically acclaimed screenwriter, Evan and Mia followed. Of course, life didn’t go exactly according to plan, with Jayce stumbling upon a successful acting career and Evan eventually moving back to Blessings Bay to open his own business.
Mia, on the other hand, had accomplished her goal and had made quite a name for herself as a highly coveted foley artist. She re-created ambient sounds for multimillion-dollar blockbusters, including all his own films, and was known for her creative, outside-the-box techniques that produced impressively realistic results. His most recent favorite: when she squished mashed potatoes and strawberry Jell-O between her fingers for one of his faux kissing scenes—grossly effective.
“Only a handful of people know about it,” he assured her.
“So, you decided to avoid a fake engagement by faking another engagement?” she asked ruefully. “Please tell me you see the irony.”
“Okay, so it wasn’t my best idea. But in the moment, I couldn’t think of a better one.”
“Why didn’t you ask me to play along? I’d be a fantastic fake fiancée.” She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head, batting her eyelashes. “Why, Jayce, sugar pie, love of my life, of course I’ll marry you! I thought you’d never ask.”
“Is there a reason your impersonation calls for an exaggerated Southern accent?” he asked with a laugh.
“It felt right for the character. Don’t question my methods.”
“Fair enough.”
She shot him a sideways glance. “In all seriousness, not that I mind being passed over as your partner in crime, but is there any particular reason you chose CeCe as your wifey-to-be?”
“Pretendwife-to-be,” he corrected. His neck suddenly burned hot. He tugged on his collar, avoiding her question.
“It wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you’ve been madly in love with her since kindergarten?”
“Good grief,” he groaned, “not again. How many times have we been over this?”
“Clearly not enough for you to finally admit the truth,” she countered wryly. “Just confess already. Why fight it?”
Because I’d never do anything to hurt her. Rather than go down that road, he said, “You have a screw loose. CeCe and I are friends.Bestfriends. I’d do anything for her, and—”
“She’d do anything for you?” Mia finished for him.
Jayce sat in silence, staring straight ahead as cars zipped past them at breakneck speeds. A particularly reckless red Corvette wove in and out of traffic, putting everyone around him at risk.
Was he doing the same thing? Would his attempt to help Stacey ultimately do more harm than good? Or would the whole thing blow over in a few days, affording Stacey and Rob their chance to ride off into the sunset unscathed?
He instinctively tightened his seat belt.Guess there’s only one way to find out.
Chapter Seven
ABBY
There’s onlyone way to find out what he wants. Abby peered through her kitchen window, partially hidden by the damask curtain.
The mystery man from CeCe’s café stood on the curb staring at the inn with an unreadable expression. First, he’d followed her home yesterday, and nowthis. What did he want? Was he stalking her? At the possibility, anxiety pooled in the pit of her stomach.
Whatever his intentions, she had an uneasy feeling despite her best attempts to explain away his odd behavior.
Heart racing, she reached for her phone in the back pocket of her jeans, ready to call Logan. Her hand stilled. Their interactions had been a little tense since their meeting with Carla. Admittedly, the tension was her fault. He’d wanted to talk after Carla left, but she’d been too emotionally bruised to trust her reaction. Deep down, she knew he’d made the right decision to wait and give their options more consideration. But closer to the surface, where every fiber of her being ached to be a mom, she hadn’t wanted to listen to reason.
After a few more seconds of internal debate, Abby straightened, leaving her phone untouched. She didn’t need tobother Logan; she could handle herself. Between growing up in a rough part of Boston and being a military wife, she’d learned a self-defense technique or two. She’d march right out the front door and demand answers.
Sucking in a breath, she stretched to her full five feet, five inches. Okay, so her petite frame wasn’t exactly formidable, but she knew the power of a swift jab to the jugular. Or an eye socket. She’d be fine.
