Page 29 of How To Fake A Fiancé

She shrugs her shoulders. “I expected to make multiple trips anyway.”

This time with her, though sweat-inducing, is bittersweet. To think she’ll be moved out by Wednesday is hard to believe. But as sad as it is to see her go, I know she’s happy being with the love of her life.

“I’m going to miss my bestie living with me.” I pout, pulling her into a tight hug.

She sniffles. “I’m going to miss you, too, but I’ll only be fifteen minutes away, and you’ll see me at work. It’s not like I’ll never see you again.”

“True. It just won’t be the same.”

“Agreed. It won’t.” She gives a teary-eyed expression before turning her focus back on her things. “I’m starting to think I have more clothes than the average celebrity.”

“Don’t worry; we’ll figure it out.”

“Speaking of figuring things out, Mia tells me she saw you and Ian were deep in conversation at the party. What’s happening there?”

I wave off her question a little too casually. “That was nothing.”

“Nothing” is the understatement of the century right now. After last night, I’m embarrassed to say the least. Instead of the face-off like I was planning, he disarmed me in a matter of a few words and caresses. What is that? How does he keep doing that? What’s even worse is that I can’t help but imagine him when using my battery-operated boyfriend. I’m losing my grip, and he knows it.

Maybe some more time avoiding him will help straighten things out.

“I don’t know. He kept a watchful eye on you during the party,” she reminds me.

He did?

No. Stop getting distracted. I try to stop myself from blushing. “That still doesn’t change anything.”

Kiera sends a knowing glance. “Then what happened between you two in the kitchen? Mia told me the conversation looked…cozy. Whatever that means.”

My mind rushes back to his gentle caress over my face. His large hands around my waist. That same warm flush sizzles through my veins. Can’t my libido quiet down for one second?

I’m about to give Kiera the same spiel I did last week when I hear my phone ring. Plucking the phone from off the kitchen table, I look at the caller ID. I don’t recognize the number.

“Huh, must be a telemarketer,” I mutter, rejecting the call.

I start to walk off when I hear the phone ding. Whoever this person is, they left a voicemail.

Out of curiosity, I open my phone, scrolling to the most recent voicemail. I play the message, and press the phone up against my ear.

“Hey, Kami, it’s Ian.”

What the hell? How did he get my number?

“Just letting you know your mom called, and if she asks, we’re together, in love, and coming to Abilene for Thanksgiving. Good luck!” The message ends, and I stand there frozen in shock.

Mom? Together? In love? Thanksgiving? The realization hits me like a truck the moment I process what he just said. Oh, my god. What did he do?

Somewhere between panic and rage grows inside me. Did he do the very thing I think he did and told him not to do? I clench my hands into fists. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Who are you killing?” Kiera asks as she walks into the kitchen. “Kami, you don’t usually condone violence after five thirty,” she jokes.

I hand her the phone. “You asked what was up between Ian and me? Well, get a load of this.”

As she listens, I watch her go wide-eyed. “Guess that explains why Jonathan asked for your number.”

I shoot my bestie a shocked glare. “You gave Ian my phone number?”

“Not directly, but yes. I had no idea something like this would happen. Why would Ian say to your mom he’s in a relationship with you?”

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