Page 28 of Frosted Fakes

Julia stared at her. "You'd do that? Help me?"

"I'd be helping myself." Elliott's tone was practical, but something in it had softened. "And you did just lie to Gabby Richardson's face to protect me. That took guts."

"It took panic."

"Same thing sometimes." Elliott almost smiled. Almost. "So. Do we have a deal? Fake girlfriends, business partners, mutual benefit all round?"

Julia thought about it. She thought about the empty display cases and her terrible baking and her mother's inevitable disappointment. She thought about Elliott's perfect pastries and sharp competence and the way she'd looked at Gabby like she was meeting a legend.

She thought about how nice it had been, for just a moment, to see her mother caught off guard.

"One condition," Julia said.

Elliott raised an eyebrow.

"You have to actually teach me something. I can't just stand there looking pretty while you do all the work. She'll notice."

"Looking pretty?" The corner of Elliott's mouth twitched. "Is that what you think you do?"

"Shut up." But Julia was smiling. "Do we have a deal?"

Elliott studied her for a long moment. Then she held out her hand.

"Deal."

Julia took it. Elliott's grip was firm and warm, her palm slightly rough from years of kitchen work. They shook once, twice, and Julia felt something settle into place. A plan. A partnership. A completely insane fake relationship with her grumpy flatmate.

What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Ten

Elliott woke the morning after striking a deal with Julia Richardson and immediately questioned her sanity.

Fake girlfriend. She'd agreed to pretend to be in a relationship with a woman who couldn't make toast without triggering the smoke alarm. Not just agreed, she’d actively pushed for the arrangement. Shaken hands on it like it was a sensible business arrangement and not complete madness.

From the sitting room came a groan, followed by the creak of springs. Julia, presumably discovering that the couch was as comfortable as a bag of rocks. Elliott felt a flicker of guilt and squashed it firmly. This was a business arrangement. Guilt had no place in business.

It was a business arrangement and… And, if she was being honest, was more self-serving than she’d like to admit. Yes, getting to keep her flat was a good thing. And, let’s face it, there was a solid chance that Julia would be leaving in the near future. She couldn’t stick it out for that long, surely.

But there was more than that. This was a connection. A small one, right now, but the closest that Elliott had ever come to ‘knowing the right people.’ Gabby Richardson was a star. A star who could make or break the career of someone who, say, wanted to publish their very first cookbook.

She dressed in jeans and a faded t-shirt, dragged her fingers through her hair, and emerged from the bedroom.

Julia was upright on the couch, blonde hair defying gravity in several directions. She looked adorably rumpled. Elliott filed that observation under "not relevant" and made straight for the kettle.

"Morning," Julia said.

Elliott grunted. Coffee first. Conversation later. That was the rule.

She made her coffee strong and black, took a long sip, and felt her brain start functioning properly.

"We need to talk," she said.

"That sounds ominous."

"It's practical." Elliott leaned against the counter. "If we're going to convince your mother we're actually together, we need our story straight. And we need to practice."

"Practice?" Julia's voice went up an octave. "Practice what?"