Page 51 of Just One Fake Date

Suddenly Shannyn had a guardian angel.

Or a fairy godmother.

In an Ermenegildo Zegna suit.

It was strange, unprecedented, and kind of...well, nice.

Tyler hadn’t needed to send her that job listing. It was thoughtful that he had, even if his note had been terse and professional. There was no mistaking that he was annoyed with her—yet he’d done something for her even so.

She didn’t miss that he was helping her, even realizing that doing so might mean that she didn’t need his assistance on the roof issue.

The new job at F5F would be perfect for Shannyn, if she could get it. Maybe a day a week at the club, taking the candid shots that were her best trick. Not a lot of money, but a steady trickle she could rely upon. There was a lot to be said for steady trickles.

And maybe more about the offhand chance of seeing a certain man at intervals. Of course, she could plan it otherwise. She could go to the club on weekdays, when Tyler was at his other job, and avoid him completely. He hadn’t suggested a routine that would include his presence. He must have thought of it, but he was backing off, because she’d asked him to.

But he was still looking out for her. There was something seductive about protectors and guardian angels, for sure.

Even though Shannyn knew better than to rely upon anything permanent developing out of this inclination. He might watch out for her until the wedding and no longer.

The fact was, though, that if Tyler had really truly been an asshole, he would never have sent her the job listing. The truth was becoming more inescapable. The fiction that she hated him was her only armor against his charm and persistence. What was she going to do when it eroded to dust?

She’d fall.

Hard.

And he’d know it, and then she’d get hurt.

It was as inevitable as the sun rising in the morning—unless she held her ground.

She thought about it as she worked long into Thursday night. She thought about it at the Cloisters on Friday. She thought about it as she ate reheated leftovers in her kitchen at night. She thought about it when her phone did not ring and a certain man seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. She thought about it when she considered the wisdom of buying the smallest bottle of a certain men’s cologne, and did it anyway.

She thought about it as she lay awake Friday night.

When Shannyn finally fell asleep, she slept through her alarm. She was only awakened when Fitzwilliam jumped onto her chest, as was his routine. The weight of him drove the air out of her lungs, but that wasn’t enough for Fitzwilliam. He batted her cheek with one gentle paw, persistent in his desire for breakfast. When she opened her eyes, he yowled, then jumped off the bed and stalked to the kitchen, tail waving like a banner.

If she didn’t follow, he’d repeat the exercise.

Shannyn took the hint. It looked like it would be a nice day, so the light would be good at the club. She fed the cat, then showered, dressed and headed downtown, hoping she could finish the job at Flatiron Five Fitness quickly.

She wondered all the way what Tyler would say to her.

She’d checked out the F5F app, and figured out where she could find each of the partners. Candid shots of them in the middle of working would be best. Damon Perez was scheduled to coach in the weight room, right around the time she’d reach the club. Shannyn decided to start with him. It wasn’t because she was ducking a conversation that she decided to take pictures of the other partners first. She had a couple of Tyler already. That was all.

It was an excuse and Shannyn knew it. Her own heart proved she was a liar by racing as she approached the front desk to check in. Was Tyler in the office behind? Would he come out to talk to her?

Nothing had changed in twelve years. She was still hoping to catch a glimpse of him like some obsessed fan-girl.

The only mercy was that Tyler had no idea about that.

She checked in and headed to the weight room, telling herself to concentrate on the job.

Damon was a big guy with dark hair and dark eyes, at least partly Hispanic and ruggedly handsome. He also had a wary manner and seemed mysterious. He was wearing a black singlet with the club’s logo that showed his sculpted body to advantage. Shannyn would never have imagined that muscles like his could be real.

“But I’m not one of them,” he said when Shannyn introduced herself.

How interesting that he felt like an outsider. Shannyn immediately felt a kinship with him. “Well, you’re one of the partners now.”

“But I didn’t go to your college.”

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