Page 29 of Just My Fake Husband

Back at the resort the next day, I return to my office after a break, hunched over my lemon blueberry muffin on a Styrofoam plate from the corner eatery like I’m Gollum fromLord of the Rings. This little precious is my one connection of the day to the outside world, so I’m going to cherish it.

The shame of planning to enter a marriage of convenience with my boss’s brother, unbeknownst to my boss, has me wanting to take up homesteading right inside my office. I wasn’t even going to leave my office at all.

But the corner eatery’s blueberry lemon muffins are one hundred percent worth the risk of running into someone and accidentally blathering about how I basically had to sell myself to keep my sister safe and happy.

That sounds tawdry. And maybe it is, since my sister’s care is my number one priority. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do for the people you love. You might be surprised at what people do for their older sisters who can’t make it in life without them.

Jana’s sure thrilled about it, though. Last night, she was talking about wedding dresses and asking me things like, “Is he a mayonnaise person or a Miracle Whip person?”

How am I supposed to know?

“These are things you need to know,” she’d insisted. “If you’re going to convince people this is real, you’d better find out.”

Basically, she was zero help.

I’ve just scored a piece of the sugary, crusty top of my muffin and popped it in my mouth when I see him in the lobby. My first instinct? Run and hide.

I can’t face my soon-to-be husband right now.

Except, he sees me. Ugh. I bob my head. I’ll just go in my office and if he wants to join me to talk things over, he can knock on my door like a civilized person. I’m busy. I have a muffin to eat.

But I’ve just stepped near the elevator bank when I sense him getting nearer and nearer to me.

“River!” His voice goes up and then down likeimagine seeing you here. He bridges the gap and takes two more steps before he envelops me in a hug. It’s so tight I’m frozen on the spot, my arms straight down to my sides.

“Hug me back,” he whispers in my ear, warming the whole side of my neck and down my arm. He moves away from me just enough to give me room.

Mutely, I snake my arms around his back, muffin plate still in hand, and immediately hate myself for it. He says jump and I say how high? This is pathetic.

“I would have if you’d hadn’t attacked me like a missile to a Soviet submarine.”

His laughter is rich in my ear and my skin betrays me as I break out in goosebumps.

He kisses the side of my forehead. It’s swift, a bit like a grandpa’s kiss, but I don’t even have time to register it before I hear the voice of Trevor from the front desk as he comes toward us.

“I wasn’t sure why Gabriel was asking to meet with you, and I tried to call, but . . .” He sputters, his gaze going between us. I step apart from Gabriel, cradling my muffin plate to my chest.

“Now I see that you . . . already know each other, so . . .” Trevor stops and frowns.

“What can I say, Trevor? We have had quite the month, haven’t we . . . Gabby?” I pull him into a side hug, keeping my muffin safe. If he’s going to plow me over with an unauthorized hug, I get to call him a stupid nickname.

He frowns. “Uh. Yes. We have and when I needed to do some business here, I jumped at the chance to see my best girl.”

“That’s right.” I flick a giggly glance at him.

His best girl? What is this? Some Jimmy Stewart movie from the 1930s?

I am so out of my element here, and I’ve known Trevor long enough that I’m positive he can see right through me. How am I going to convince anyone that I’m suddenly in love with my boss’s brother?

“Well, then, glad you found her,” Trevor offers, his brow wrinkled and his eyes wide.

Without another word, and just as I’m trying to get away from the side hug, Gabriel thanks Trevor and wheels me around. We walk down the hall to the administrative offices, still glued to one another’s sides.

“Gabby?” he hisses in my ear.

“I had the right to call you that! You attacked me without warning.”

“Attacked you?” Now he loosens his hold on me. And his tone softens. “I—” he stumbles over his words. “We have to be convincing, that’s all. I’m sorry if you felt attacked.”

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