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“Thanks. I’ve had a couple decades of practice.”

She pulls back, blinks, and sobers. “Looks like we gave her the shot she wanted.”

Huh?

“The lady with the stroller recognized me when they walked by. She must’ve checked my Twitter to confirm. I tweeted and three seconds later she leaned over to whisper to the guy she’s with and then pretended to photograph him. He stepped aside and her phone was aiming right at us.”

My brain is stuck on stupid.

“Oh,” is the only word I manage.

“You learn how to spot the opportunists after a few years. I hope she got a decent shot of the kiss.”

I rake my fingers through my hair, feeling…I don’t know. Used? “Yeah. Me too.”

Her smile fades as she assesses me. I shove a cracker with cheese into my mouth to occupy it rather than say anything I’m thinking.

“Oh, Jax. I’m sorry. You didn’t think…I mean, it wasn’t that I didn’t like it.”

I shake my head vigorously, half tempted to shove a cracker with cheese into her mouth to keep her from feeling sorry for me or worse—apologize because I’m too stupid to know that she was pretending. I dig out the bottle of wine and a professional wine key and work the cork.

“I thought you saw her, too. I’m sorry.”

“Why?” I ask, my voice too loud.

Cork off, I fill two glasses. I’m not exactly a white wine guy, but I could use the alcohol. I down my glass like a shot.

“Better actor than you thought, aren’t I?” I lift my eyebrows in a quick, cocky jump and refill my glass, set the bottle aside, and kick back on the blanket.

“Well. Not all of it was acting,” Allie says. “We have chemistry in spades. Maybe she captured the kiss on video. That’d be something.”

Now I’m wondering if her comment about how she couldn’t think of a reason not to sleep with me was acting as a “fluffer” for our first on-screen kiss. I don’t have a lot of experience with being used, and I’m still not sure that’s the right word given I agreed to come here and kiss her for that very purpose. But I’m stinging from it all the same.

“Oh! I brought this really yummy fig jam.” Arm-deep in the tote bag, she comes out with a jar and spoon. I drink the cloying, super-sweet wine and briefly consider asking the Frisbee guys if I can join in.

I’m suddenly antsy.

As if the gods above sense my plight, the Frisbee wings out of bounds, bounces once, and rolls to a flat stop next to the blanket.

“Heads up!” one guy calls out with a wave.

“I’ve got this.” I climb to my feet. “Wouldn’t want them to recognize you and act creepy.”

I send her a wink, and she buys the lie. I jog back to the group, wing the Frisbee, and they invite me to stay for a few throws. I agree, glancing over my shoulder to take in the setting. Allie’s smooth legs are folded beneath her flowery skirt, her dark hair blowing in the soft summer breeze. The part of me that twitches isn’t located in my pants but in my chest.

And that is a big fucking problem.

One I intend to rectify starting immediately after this next throw.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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