Page 30 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

She looks over my shoulder as though searching for the pop star.

“No, Crimson and I aren’t dating,” I say quickly. “It’s not me in the pictures.”

Jessica frowns, her gaze returning to me. “It certainly looks like you.”

“I know, but it’s not.”

She taps her chin, eyeing me. “Oh, really? Who is it, then? If it’s not you, you must know who it is.”

Great.

I start looking around, hoping that Godzilla will suddenly appear and go on a rampage.

That’s about the only thing I can see saving me from this situation.

“Catherine,” a voice calls behind me.

I turn, relief washing through me.

I’ve never been so relieved to see someone I’m pretending to be engaged to before.

“George. I didn’t expect to see you today,” I blurt. “I thought you were going to be on site today.”

“I’m picking up some lunch for the crew,” he answers as he steps up to my side. He presses a kiss to my temple and smiles pleasantly at a dumbfounded Jessica. “Jess. Been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

Jessica’s eyes are so wide they’re bugging from her head. “Oh! It has been a while. Um. I was just asking Catherine about…”

Her eyes bug out even more when George takes my hand and kisses it. Our fingers twine, but he turns my hand in such a way that my ring is obvious.

“I was asking about, you know, that stuff about the, um… well, this business with Crimson,” Jessica says, sounding like she swallowed a frog.

“Oh, that.” George laughs. “It sure looks like her from the back, doesn’t it? Wonder who it’ll turn out to be.”

And as easy as that, he leads me past Jessica.

It’s over as simple as that.

No trying to explain, no insisting it’s not me.

Just… over.

I gaze at George with admiration. “How do you do that?”

He kisses my hand again. “Simple. Act like it’s nothing and people will think it’s nothing.”

“Except your parents?”

He winks. “Yeah. Except for my parents.”

***

George comes out to Grandma’s place after we’re done shopping. He planned to do so already, needing to pick up some tools he’d left here.

“Are you sure your crew isn’t going to be waiting for you?” I ask when he helps me carry in the groceries.

“I’m sure,” he says. “They don’t expect me back for another hour, anyway.”

Grandma is in the garden bed, puttering around. She waves at us but doesn’t come inside.

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