Page 42 of Surprisingly Us

“That photo you posted yesterday with Colette was a good strategy.” He pulls it up to show me the likes and comments, all Ican do is stare at the photo and remember how perfect Lettie felt in my arms.

To distract myself from the memory, I glance at one of the comments.

“Wait. What does that say?” I ask.

But Ramsey doesn’t need to read it because I have eyes.

Run, sweetie. A man like that will ruin you.

Cute couple, but it won’t last.

He’s a player. He’ll break your heart.

“I thought you said the photo was a good strategy. These comments are fucking shit.”

“I didn’t say the comments were good, but having a photo of you two that isn’t staged at an event makes it more believable.” He points to the photo. “You’ll need more of this to legitimize the relationship.”

“I told Lettie I would only need her for a few dinners or events. She’s busy with training and doesn’t have time for dating, that was the beauty of the arrangement.”

He shrugs. “You’ll need to spend some time together doing normal couple things. That’s what’s going to sell this.”

“Yeah, I’ll figure it out.”

“Maybe that photographer following you could be a good thing.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Good press.”

“That’s not what that guy’s after.” He makes his living off making me look bad.

“But if that’s all you give him, what can he do? He’ll either post it or lose interest. It’s a win-win.”

Ramsey has a good point. If bad press is what built my reputation, then maybe some good press is what could fix it.

CHAPTER 11

Colette

Rhys:Pick you up at eight.

I stare at his text message. Eight? That seems late for dinner. I usually eat at six when I get home from my day at the studio.

After practice, I’d showered and dried my hair, which took forever because it is deceptively thick, and now I’m standing in the ladies’ dressing room trying to figure out what to wear. Planning for efficiency, I’d packed up everything this morning so I could save time and change here. But with Rhys not picking me up until eight, I’ve got nearly three hours to decide what to wear…three hours to overanalyze everything.

Isabella walks into the dressing area and looks around at the clothing options strewn about. “Hot date tonight?”

“Um, yeah. Kind of.”

“Seriously?” Her mouth opens in shock, but she quickly recovers. “Not that you wouldn’t have a hot date. It’s an expression, and I wasn’t expecting you to say yes.”

I laugh because while Isabella feels bad for insinuating I have no personal life, it’s the exact reason why I’m doing this with Rhys. To put myself out there. Kind of.

“He’s a friend. We grew up together. Our parents are—were—friends. His parents died in a boating accident fifteen years ago.”As I’m saying it to Isabella, I can’t believe it’s been that long since Wes and Abigail died.

“Is it casual? Like a hook-up?” she asks.

“No. Not a hook-up. There won’t be any hooking up, just dating as two people do.”

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