Page 28 of Just One Fake Date

Shannyn returned to the shared foyer. She could see her tenant at the top of the stairs.

“Say it isn’t so,” she said, guessing that Lisa would.

Lisa folded her arms across her chest and leaned on the bannister. “Drip, drip, drippity drip drip.”

“Where?”

“In the living room. Mom was able to move things around and get a bucket under it in time, but it’s not slowing down.”

Shannyn winced. “I’ll just feed his majesty then be right up.”

She hurried back to her own kitchen. Fitzwilliam jumped onto the counter when she got out the can opener, wrapping his tail neatly around himself as he watched her with obvious anticipation.

“I was working,” she explained, even though that was only partly true. “Making cat food money.”

He yawned with leisure, apparently skeptical of her claim. He was trying to appear aloof and failing completely. His eyes glittered as he watched her open the tin. Shannyn wondered if her own hunger had been this obvious when Tyler had offered her dinner. Fitzwilliam’s nose twitched with interest as she put the food in his dish, and his tail was waving when he jumped down to follow her to the mat where she put his dish. As always, he sat down fastidiously and coiled his tail around himself, then bent to investigate the contents of the dish. He began to eat right away, a sure sign of his hunger.

Maybe Shannyn had a secret fondness for confident males. Or handsome ones who had expectations of the world and anticipated those desires would automatically be fulfilled.

She checked the meal portions in the freezer. She tried to have a cooking day once a week, making a huge batch of something then freezing it in individual portions to eat later. Choices were becoming limited, which meant it was time for another cooking day. Maybe Sunday. Tonight, it would be the last container of chili. She popped the frozen portion into a pan and put it on the stove on a low setting, then went into her bedroom to change.

Moments later, she left Fitzwilliam with his meal and went upstairs.

Lisa was about the same age as Shannyn and had grown up in the neighborhood. She always paid the rent on time, and helped out when there was a crisis. It wasn’t all bad that Mrs. P was home most of the time. She was their neighborhood watch and knew all the gossip. Mother and daughter were philosophical about the leak, probably because Mrs. P. had ensured there was no damage to the floor or carpet.

Lisa went up to the attic with Shannyn. The sound of the rain was louder up there, because the attic was unfinished. Sure enough, the bucket right over the leak had filled during the day. They emptied it out together along with the others and Shannyn added a few more.

“Running out of time,” Lisa said.

“The guy I talked to wanted to do it in late June,” Shannyn said, which was true. She omitted the detail that she hadn’t booked him yet, because she couldn’t afford his price. “Maybe the rain will stop during the night.”

“A girl can hope.” Lisa was philosophical in a way that Shannyn couldn’t be.

She had to find a way to fix this before there was more damage. She said goodnight and headed back downstairs, then doodled sums on a notepad in her kitchen while the chili heated. She pulled out the estimate from the junk drawer, the one with a total that still made her heart skip a beat. This unexpected job from the magazine would definitely help, but she was still short. Her expenses were already cut to the bone and she couldn’t raise the rent. And she couldn’t ask her mom for a loan. She didn’t want to sell the house. Shannyn tallied until her dinner was hot, then put it all back in the drawer, frustrated because the answer kept coming out the same.

There had to be a solution.

She just had to find it.

She turned on her computers and started the images downloading from her camera to her computer as she ate. The big screen was better for seeing the detail and she wanted the shots for the Met to be perfect. If there were any that she didn’t love, she still had time to redo them.

Her old laptop was open on one end of the desk, even though the hard drive had been removed. Fitzwilliam, predictably, was ready for company after being alone all day, and for some reason, he’d always loved that keyboard.

It couldn’t possibly be comfortable, but it was his favorite place to sleep, unless there was a cardboard box around. He jumped up on the desk and turned circles in place, making the keys click with every footfall. He then laid down in a tight ball, leaning against the dark screen as he yawned with satisfaction.

“Good meal?” Shannyn asked and he replied at length, maybe giving his opinion of the brand. She guessed that it was a winner: not only was his bowl clean, but it had prompted a dissertation. Naturally, it was the more expensive one. She gave his ears a scratch, knowing just how he liked it, and in five minutes, Fitzwilliam was asleep. The sound of his purring mingled with the drum of the rain against the windows as Shannyn got to work.

Just another day in paradise, but she wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

Five

It wasafter two when Shannyn finished the images for the museum. She stretched, then glanced at the ones of the club, even though there were only a couple. The last and best image was one she’d taken of Tyler when he wasn’t looking. He was standing in the lobby of the club, looking up at the rock climbing wall. He was silhouetted against the night but his profile was easily identifiable and his white shirt caught some of the ambient light. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his trousers and he was watching the climbers intently.

His posture spoke of confidence, and it was clear, even in his suit, that he was perfectly fit. His face was partly shadowed, but Shannyn could discern some of the intensity in his expression that she associated with him.

He had that dangerous little half-smile, the one that made her heart skip a beat.

There was definitely something about smug assholes, especially the handsome and well-dressed ones. Shannyn treated herself to a good long look and heard herself sigh.

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