Page 18 of Faking Romance

“Yeah, nice post. But you’ll need more like this if we’re going to get to that coveted ten-thousand-followers number,” Jocelyn says.

“Shit, well, I didn’t really think that would happen. But I guess there’s no turning back now,” I say with a laugh, although internally I’m screaming with both terror and excitement. I’m not just putting my store out there, I’m putting myself out there. I set the phone down.

“Now what?” I ask.

“He said a red dress, right?” she asks.

I nod.

“Well, then, I think we need to go red dress shopping. And your new followers can weigh in on the dress options.”

“But what does that have to do with books?” I ask.

She frowns and then runs to a few shelves and pulls off books, setting them down in front of me. They are all covers where the female lead is wearing a red dress. “You can hold up books while trying on dresses and then ask if you should be more like…” She pauses and reads the blurb on the back. “Camila or…” She looks at another book. “Ashley.”

“I sort of love that idea,” I grumble.

She laughs. “Damn, don’t be so excited.”

I giggle. “Sorry, that’s bitchy of me. I just wish I could come up with ideas like that.”

“Well, your great idea was hiring me,” she says as she points to herself.

“Yeah, that was a pretty great idea,” I agree. “Now, let’s go dress shopping,” I add.

She looks around us. “Now? Like, right now? But we aren’t done yet.”

I wave a hand. “We can finish tomorrow.” Right now, I need a hot dress for this mystery date. Who knows? Maybe my follower flowersforever111 is right. They wrote: I met the love of my life on a blind date. You never know.

That’s true. I never know. But I’m definitely about to find out.

CHAPTEREIGHT

Grayson

I pull on my T-shirt and put my earbuds in. I make it down to the park in record time. I crank up my music and run the five-mile trail which makes a loop back to the original pathway that starts at the end of Hearts Lane. It’s a movement to my left that draws my attention. I slow down and remove my earbuds.

“Hutch?” I ask as I look at my friend and neighbor in full camo sitting in some bushes.

“Hey,” he says, keeping his eyes focused on something in front of him.

I follow his gaze. The bench. No flowers yet, but it’s very early, just before sunrise.

“Dude, how long have you been out here?”

“Six hours,” he grunts as he chews on gum.

“Six hours! That’s crazy.”

He shrugs. “I’m going to figure it out. Someone has to do it. Those flowers do not magically appear.”

I look around us. “Don’t you have, like, work or something?”

“Yeah, in an hour,” he replies, not bothering to look my way.

I study him for a long moment. Has my friend lost his ever-fucking mind? Seriously? I know it’s a fun little mystery, but to have all-night surveillance seems a bit extreme.

“I bet Brayden that I can catch who does it,” he says, not taking his eyes off the bench.

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