Page 5 of Just a Distraction

“Such a simple solution, right?” I say. “But things are complicated. I can’t just quit.”

His brows go in the air, but he nods once. “Okay. So do you trust me?” His eyes challenge me. “I’ll start complaining about the food, ask to see the manager, and we’ll go from there.”

I tap my fingertips against my notepad. “Are you sure? I don’t need you giggling like a schoolgirl in the middle of it.” I can’t help my grin.

“My only concern is if I pretend to hate my food, can I still eat it? Or will you take it away?”

I laugh, the nerves and anxiety starting to filter away. “You’dbettereat the carbonara, it’s the best dish we have. Maybe you should order a side of sardines and then complain about those.”

He blanches. “That would be hard.”

“You ordered sardines to begin with! I’m the one who saved you from them.”

“Maybe there were other reasons I ordered them.” A smile curls across his face. Is he flirting?

I could play along. I could ask him what those other reasons were, but the tone of his voice is playful, and I can’t go there.

“In any case, this has to work,” I say.

“It will,” he insists. “That lame, power-hungry pond scum won’t know what hit him.”

I turn to head back to the kitchen to plate his sardines but then whirl around. “Before I dance with the devil, I have to know your name.”

He nods slowly, and I’m suddenly very aware that his grin is going to be the death of me.

“It’s Milo.”

I reach out a hand. I never shake customers’ hands. But for some reason, I’m going for it now. As I glance down as his large, cool hand dwarfs mine, a jolt goes through me at his touch.

“Nice to meet you, Milo.”

Chapter 3

Milo

To say I haven’t imagined getting to know Rose before would be a lie. I sort of look for her every time I come in. This is the only time I’ve been here without some or all of my family, though.

And since literally everyone else in the family had plans tonight, I thought I’d come eat a leisurely dinner. Being the youngest in a family of six boys means I’m used to eating alone.

I’m the youngest of seven, technically. My dad found out he had another son from a relationship before he met my mom. Benson’s the oldest and none of us know him very well, but he’s planning to come to Colorado for another visit soon.

Shaking Rose’s hand just now felt . . . I don’t know . . . special somehow. Like we’re two peas in a pod. Sounds ridiculous, but it’s true.

“Do not break character,” she warns before she leaves my table, and for the first time since she and I started talking about this little impromptu game, nerves carve a channel through my stomach.

I offered to help her play a prank on her boss, who seems like a total jerk. And it sounds like this tool has been messing with her for a while, which is not acceptable. I’m not going to just stand by and watch that happen.

I’m tucked into my plate of pasta carbonara, fully invested in the creamy tang of the sauce and the brightness of the diced vegetables, when the busboy brings a small side dish of sardines.

Time to do the best acting job of my life.

I wish it had been Rose who brought them out, but this will have to do. She’s been busy with her other tables and unlike the earlier part of the night, she hasn’t been making eye contact with me from across the room.

Maybe she’s having second thoughts about our ruse.

It’s “speak now or forever hold your peace” time, though, because I’m slurping up these sardines like nobody’s business.

They’re . . . not good.

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