Page 51 of Proposal Play

Oh.

Oh shit. I didn’t even think about the rings we wore in public. My focus was solely on betting on a kiss. But I remember Asher draped an arm around me and tugged me close, then stared daggers at a redheaded man next to me. I have no idea who took the shot, nor does it matter.

But when a memory swims to the surface, I decipher the clue. At the table, a woman in a fuchsia jumpsuit shouted,When in Vegas!and tipped her drink toward me. Was she toastingus? She must have seen the pic.When in Vegas, pay it forward.

It’s all my fault that we went viral. I’m the one who suggested roulette.

“Can I see it? The roulette pic?”

He shows me a photo of us leaning against the roulette table, his arm wrapped around my shoulder, with a claiming vibe. The shutterbug has two more pics, zoomed in on our rings.

My stomach flips with nerves and some seriously lusty chills. I don’t even know what is going on in my life right now, and my body decides to get a little turned on? What the fuck, hormones?

I try to ignore them and zero in on the problem.

This pay-it-forward movement is wonderful, but it’s making my career situation even more complicated.

Or am I just being overly cautious?

“We could let it blow over, maybe,” I suggest, desperate to fix this mess. I’m the girl who’s too much, too clingy. But I can’t lean on my best friend to fixmyroulette mistake. Not right now. He has too much on his plate with hockey and his charity.

“Maybe we could,” he says, and his brain is clearly spinning in search of solutions too.

“So what if everyone thinks we’re married? Who do we have to prove this to? Beyond tonight? Beyond this party? No one, right?” I ask hastily, nearly convincing myself.

He nods. “Maybe it won’t matter. No one has a long attention span these days anyway. The Sea Dogs might not find out. They might not care. It’ll be fine.”

For the first time in fifteen minutes, I almost believe this ridiculous situation will work. I always find trouble, but I always find my way out of it too. “We’ll have a laugh later, I’m sure.”

“Definitely.”

Mister Butler clears his throat from the hallway—there’s no time to linger. We exit the bathroom with the conversation unfinished but with hope we’ll get out of this mess unscathed.

In the hall, the liveried man shoots me a look that says I’m an agent of chaos and I’ve met my match in him.

“Let me show you where you will be painting for the guests,” the butler says, his tone tinged with irritation. I can’t afford for anyone here tonight to be annoyed with me. The fashion designer has connections—he might recommend me. No one wants to hire a painter who becomes the center of attention at the party.

“Thank you for everything,” I say, trying to smooth things over as I pick up my supplies. “I appreciate it.” Asher grabs the easel, and I turn to him, improvising abathroom scenario. “And thank you for helping me fix the zipper on this dress.”

“Anytime,” my temporary husband says.

“How utterly thoughtful,” the butler deadpans as he leads us down the hallway, polished shoes clicking. “It’s always helpful to have a partner who can assist.”

As we tread the mansion’s sleek halls, Asher drops a few feet back and whispers, “We’ll lie low tonight.” He nods to the front door. “I can leave if you want.”

No. God no. My heart rate gallops. I need him here. “Can you stay?”

“Of course,” he says. “I’ll keep out of the way.”

“And we can talk later?”

“Of course. And listen, if anyonedoesask, we can say the marriage pact was part of this act of kindness, somehow. A viral stunt. Like we did it to get attention for this pay-it-forward thing.”

That’s not a bad idea at all.

“Yes! That’s so brilliant I could kiss you,” I say as we reach the giant sunken living room where I’ll set up in the corner. But then I wince. My desire to kiss him is what got us here in the first place—the bet for a kiss and all. “We can sort it out when I get a break. Sorry, and thank you.”

“Don’t think twice about it. I’ll fix it.” He sounds happy to help solve problems—because he always is. That’s what he does.

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