“A sub-grudge?” she says, and I snort. “But why? My mother wasn’t even a Gamble until she married my father.”
“Sometimes it has nothing to do with great-great-grandparents or blue-ribbon pickles. It’s just two teenage girls who hate each other.”
Kevin—who’s had his front paws on the top of the gate, blatantly eavesdropping—lets out a deep woofing sound.
“I know, buddy,” Cara says in a soft voice. “Your mama always runs late, so you should be used to it by now. I hope she hurries up, though, because that guy over there is going to buy me a burger and fries tonight, and I’m starving.”
Cara Gamble’s going on a date with me.
No, I remind myself sternly. Not a date. Dating is for real relationships. Our meal will essentially be a business dinner—a strategic performance to further our story.
Since I’m finished scanning the documents, I slide my phone back in my pocket and the papers back into the manilla envelope Cara had kept them in. I set it on the counter for now, but I’ll take these physical papers with me and give them to Taylor, who’ll send final versions to Cara. I don’t want stray copies floating around.
I do need to make sure we’re on the same page before we go eat, though. “While we’re at the diner, you know everybody that’ll be there has to believe we’re in love, right? We don’t people out there gossiping about how we look like awkward strangers having a meal together.”
“Awkward strangers?” She raises an eyebrow at me, the corners of her mouth tilting up. “So no stabbing you in the leg with a fork under the table?”
“I prefer that nobody stab me with a fork, but especially not the woman I’m marrying in a few days.” I step closer to her, moving into her personal space to see how she’ll react. “I was talking more about how your cheeks flush when I’m this close to you, as if you’re not used to me being near.”
Cara doesn’t back up. Instead, she tips her head so I can see the mischievous curve of her mouth. When she trails her fingertips up my forearm, I suck in a breath. “How about the way the muscles in your jaw flex when I touch you?”
I’d hoped I was doing a better job of hiding my reaction to her touch, but it appears even my usually considerable control isn’t up to the challenge. My self-discipline is currently being burned through in an effort not to haul her into my arms and kiss her like a real fiancé would.
Cara’s eyes widen. “If you look at me like that in public, you won’t have any trouble selling the story. And I don’t think anybody expects us to be making out in the middle of a family diner or anything.”
I can’t let my mind get sidetracked with savoring the idea of making out with Cara, so I try to get myself back on topic. Sliding my hand into my pocket, I pull out the small box, and open it to reveal a diamond ring. It’s not particularly flashy, but the diamond set in platinum is classically elegant. “I was hoping for a quiet moment to give you this.”
“Oh.” Cara starts to reach for it, but then pauses with her hand in the air, fingers curling. “It’s huge, Hayden. It’s fake, right? Tell me it’s fake.”
“It is not fake.” I take her hand and slide the ring onto her finger. “I’m a little offended you would even ask me that.”
“I can’t be responsible for this,” she hisses, but she hasn’t taken her eyes off the way it catches the light. “The marriage is fake, so the ring should be fake, too.”
“Cara, you need to stop saying that out loud, even when we’re alone because you’ll be more likely to say it when we’re not alone.”
“I know. I just need to…” She sighs, eyes still on the ring. “I know.”
You just need to what? Why does she need to keep reinforcing to herself that our engagement is fake? I don’t ask, though, because the door opens and Kevin loses his mind.
Chapter Thirty-One
Cara
Kevin gets about thirty seconds of his human’s attention before she notices Hayden. Liz Mayfield’s eyes light up with recognition, and I brace myself for whatever’s about to come out of her mouth.
“Hayden Reilly! Look at you, all grown up!” Then, before he has a chance to react, she rushes forward and pulls him into a hug.
I try to hide how much I enjoy Hayden’s discomfort, but he gives me a look over her shoulder letting me know my acting skills aren’t exactly on par. I’m able to keep from actually laughing out loud, though, which I’ll take as a win.
“Oh, gosh,” Liz says, stepping backward. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t even remember me.”
“Mrs. Mayfield—of course I remember you,” he says with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you again.”
Her relief is obvious, and then she turns to me. “My husband and Hayden’s dad worked together and were good friends. There were a lot of backyard barbecues back in those days.”
“Those were good times,” he says with a genuine smile. “How have you been?”
“Oh, good. We’re good.” She’s practically beaming now. “Downright boring compared to you two. Congratulations on your engagement!”
