Page 32 of Synced to Us

Dee goes silent.

My chest goes tight as I picture her wilting inside at my statement. It has to be my dumb imagination—Dee doesn’t seem the type to shrivel, ever—but I feel like I’ve hurt her by agreeing so easily with her opinion that she’s a pro at being fake. But fuck, she is. Which makes the times she’s not so very obvious. I wonder if she knows it. “Look, maybe we should put a kibosh on the whole thing. Tonight was a dumpster fire. I don’t even think my Ma and brother care at this point whether I’ve brought home a girlfriend.”

Dee straightens. “That’s not true.”

I send her a questioning look, then ask in a low voice, “Wait, I may need to record this. Are you saying we should keep up the charade?”

She gifts me with a responding smile. “Your brother’s an ass. If you’re truthful with him now, he’ll never let you live it down. We might as well act like a couple for the next two days and really rub your happiness in his face before you leave for the city and he has to stay here in your childhood town.”

My lips peel back into a grin. “You’ve read him that well, huh?”

“Men like him are easy to pin down.” She quiets, and then says, “And men like you don’t deserve to be treated the way he’s treating you.”

“So, let me get this straight. You want to keep being my girlfriend this weekend? Despite my fucked-up family?” The mattress dips as I sit on the edge next to her. Dee stiffens, her fingers curling against her knees at my proximity, and I cover up a knowing smirk. I don’t think I was hearing things when Dee caught her breath as I peeled off my shirt. I’m pretty sure I’m not seeing things when she hungrily takes in my bare chest and stomach. I doubt she reacts this way, so nervous and cute, with her clients. That thought pleases me more than I should admit—that I get to her in ways other men don’t.

It doesn’t take long for my cockiness to leech away when I think, fuck. I have to sleep next to this gorgeous woman and not touch her.

She clears her throat—a tell I’m coming to recognize. “It’s only fair I keep up my side of the bargain. You still have to accompany me to the firm’s gala in a week and this weekend charade is pivotal to Dennis believing we’re an item.”

Leave it to Dee to turn lust into a legality.

“Okay, then.” I slap my thighs. “Deal’s still on.”

The conversation stops. This is my cue to stand up, walk around the bed, pull a blanket from my chair, and sleep on the floor like a good little boy. But I can’t move.

Her dark eyes lock on mine, her irises like a prism encased in onyx. It’s like she’s cast a spell over me and I’m drawn to her, aching to lick from the nape of her neck to her jawline. I wonder if she tastes as good as she smells.

Christ, Wyn. Of course she does.

Sadly, I have to break her enchantment. “Uh, do you mind if I play around for a bit?”

Dee’s brows shoot up.

Chuckling, I motion to the keyboard-style MIDI recorder, set under the arched window.

Dee’s stare lights up. “I’d love to hear you play.”

My chin jerks back. “Really?”

“Yes!” She laughs at my reaction, the sound flowing from her lips like shimmering diamonds that are much too rare. “Will you play one of your originals?”

“I’ll practice a few notes.” I rise from the bed. “Instrument only. I can’t sing for shit.”

“But you write lyrics, don’t you?”

I stare at her.

She rushes to say, “McKenna mentioned it once. It’s not like I looked you up or anything.”

“Yeah?” I cock my head. “I didn’t think Mason paid enough attention to tell his wife I’m writing as well as composing.”

The tail end of her laughter lingers on her lips, but as we continue to stare at each other, she schools them flat. “What are you waiting for? Let’s see what you got.”

I round the bed, heading to the keyboard. “I haven’t shown anyone my stuff in forever.”

“Then this is perfect.” Dee pulls her knees up to her chest again, then perches her chin on her forearms and whispers, “Consider it part of our fake relationship. It doesn’t have to leave this room. If it’s not real, I can’t judge you.”

It’s a sobering thought, and one I’m not sure I enjoy. “Can’t argue with that.” I take my place in front of the keyboard, getting comfortable in the small chair.

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