“Lust then.” She digs her phone out of her purse, swipes the screen, and starts tapping away.
“What are you doing?”
“Texting Jake. I won the bet. He owes me fifty bucks.”
“Wait,” I shout so loud the people at the next table turn and stare at us. I shoot them a mind-your-own-business glare, lower my voice, and lean in, resting my elbows on the table. “Please.”
Ainsley’s finger freezes, and she raises her gaze from her phone to study me. “Are you telling me I didn’t win the bet? Because if you are, I call BS.”
I slowly sip my beer, stalling for time while I debate what to say next. Do I keep lying to her? Or drop the performance, which apparently isn’t winning any Academy Awards—so much for my acting skills—and admit that Connor’s putting his wand in my chamber of secrets on a regular basis?
She tilts her head and smirks at me, her finger hovering over the screen of her phone. “You’ve got ten seconds before I hit send.”
I set my beer down on the table with more force than necessary. Amber liquid sloshes out of the glass and onto my hand, but that’s the least of my concerns. My best friend is about to tell my brother that I’m messing around with his best friend and business partner. It’s like an episode ofEmpire.
“What happened to sisters before misters? Chicks before dicks? Besties before testes?”
“Nine, eight, seven—”
“I don’t want my brother to find out like this,” I blurt out, the tacit admission the quickest way I can think of to stop her from tapping the little blue arrow that sends her text through cyberspace to Jake. “It should be me that tells him. Or Connor.”
She hesitates for a second, then swipes the screen and puts the phone back in her purse. “Fair enough.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. That was close. Too close. “I can’t believe you’d out us to my brother. I know you’re marrying him, but I met you first. And you wouldn’t even be with him if I hadn’t hired you to help take care of Roscoe.”
She gets a dreamy look in her eyes and her lips quirk into a wistful smile. “For which I’m eternally grateful to you and that big, lovable doofus. The dog, I mean. Not your brother. I don’t know what I would have done if your parents hadn’t decided to leave him with us after the cruise.”
“If you’re so grateful, how could you threaten to tell Jake I’m sleeping with his best friend?” I ask.
The dreamy look vanishes as quickly as it appeared, replaced by cool, clear calculation. “That’s just it. I threatened. I never really intended to go through with it. I knew you’d fold like an ironing board.”
“Who even uses an ironing board anymore?” I grumble.
“My grandmother,” she answers quickly. “And my mother. Not that you’ll catch me using one. That’s what dry cleaners are for. But you’re missing the point.”
“Which is?”
“I threatened. You caved and confessed in a desperate attempt to stop me from spilling the beans to Jake. Just like I knew you would.”
Dammit, she’s right. I shake my head at her. “You’re diabolical, you know that? The CIA should use you as an alternative to waterboarding.”
“Thank you,” she says, spreading her arms wide and doing a little mock bow.
“That wasn’t supposed to be a compliment.”
“Sounded like one to me.”
I shrug and reach for my beer. “Have it your way.”
My phone dings for a third time, diverting my hand from my glass. I guess the third time really is the charm because it’s Drew—finally—with my ass-crack-of-dawn call time.
I throw the phone into my purse, toss back the rest of my beer, and stand. “I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got to run. Early call time tomorrow. I’ll text you with my schedule and we can figure out the dress shopping thing.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She stands and hugs me. “For what it’s worth, I’m happy for you guys. I think you’re a great couple, no matter what Jake says.”
I’m torn. Half of me wants to scream that we’re not officially a couple. The other half is ready to do battle with my brother over his objections, whatever they are, even though he’s miles away. He takes the whole overprotective thing to a new level.
“What does Jake say?” I ask, option for a neutral approach.
