Page 42 of Faking It with the Firefighter

“Not to be rude or anything,” another female voice said in the kitchen, “but is she really in the same league as him?”

Bristling, I considered turning left instead of right and heading to Sophie’s café for breakfast. She’d be there with a kind smile and a cookie as big as my head, and everything would feel a little bit better.

But then Blair laughed and said, “What do you think, Stace? I mean, look at her house. I hope he doesn’t marry her, because I couldn’t bear the thought of having to invite her to family events. Could you imagine the Photoshop I’d have to do on the pictures?”

Grinding my teeth, I swiveled my head toward the right. This wasmyhouse, dammit! I wouldnotlet these people run me out of it!

Bracing myself, I headed back into the kitchen. The mower sounded strange, more high-pitched than usual, and I glanced out the window to make sure it wouldn’t explode in Rex’s face, or something—and saw him swinging a weedwhacker against my fence line. Now, where had he gottenthat? I definitely didn’t own one.

“We were just saying how lucky you are to be dating such a hunk,” the dark-haired bridesmaid said to me, smiling. She looked perfectly genuine, and I knew she wasn’t.

I smiled right back at her. “We’re happy.” I walked to the counter and started the coffee machine. They were all drinking alcohol, but in my frame of mind, I thought it wiser to abstain. Otherwise, one more insult to me or my home might end up with someone getting a serious smackdown.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee made me relax slightly. I grabbed my favorite mug, and my butt buzzed. Grabbingmy phone to check it, I smiled at the notification from my bank telling me another commission had just come through.

A thrill went through me. No matter how many times I did it, Ilovedmaking a sale. It made me feel like I could actually do something right. And today, that reminder of my success was helping me get through the Bride Tribe invasion…until Blair interrupted my moment of serenity with another one of her jabs: “What I’ve been wondering,” she started, blinking innocently, “is whether the two of you reallyarethat happy, Abigail.” She gave me a sympathetic smile. “When Rex and I were together, he couldn’t keep his hands off me. I haven’t seen him give you so much as a peck on the cheek.”

I shrugged to hide the way her comment made me want to bristle. “We’re not really into PDA so much.”

“Oh, when we were dating, it wasn’t a conscious choice. He would just grab and touch and stroke anytime I was within arm’s reach!”

“That’s how Xander is with me,” one of the other bridesmaids said, a blonde with chin-length hair, nodding before looking at me sympathetically. “But honestly, sometimes it’s justtoo muchto be wanted that badly. I’m actually a little jealous. Iwishmy boyfriend would give me a minute, but it’s just non-stop!”

“Oh, I know what you mean,” Blair tittered. “You just know your man is craving you, day and night, right, ladies?”

Heads bobbled in agreement.

I dumped a load of sugar in my coffee, seething, then turned and said, “I’m secure enough not to need public displays of affection to know that my man wants me.”

“Oh, it’s not about being secure,” Blair said, frowning as ifshe was breaking terrible news. “When a man wants you that bad, he just can’t help himself.”

I realized my fist was clenching around my mug. I forced a smile. “You’re lucky to have that, Blair.”

“Aren’t I? I mean, Rex was something special, though.” Her eyes took on an interested glint. “Tell me, Abigail, does Rex still do that thing with his tongue?”

A throat cleared, and we all turned to the door, where Rex stood in sweaty, muscled glory. His skin was red with exertion, and he flicked his gaze between Blair and me before saying, “You got any yard waste bags? If I leave all the grass trimmings on your lawn it might kill the grass underneath, and your compost is too full to take them all.”

“Great idea,” I said, slamming my mug on the counter so hard the coffee sloshed over the edge and burned my fingers. I hissed, then yanked open the drawer where I kept my garbage bags—the closest thing I had to a yard waste bag (I did not actually know the difference). “I’ll help,” I told Rex, grabbing the whole roll and shouldering my way outside.

Half a dozen bridesmaids were lounging on my covered porch, and my shoulders hiked up near my ears at the sight. This wasmysanctuary they were desecrating. Not wanting to make a scene, I reminded myself that this was happening because I had to prove to my brother—and everyone else—that I could handle myself. I wouldnotfly off the handle. There would be no more jail time for Abigail Stone. No sir-ee.

I tore a garbage bag off the roll and flicked it open, then bent over to grab a handful of grass clippings. They smelled earthy and fresh, but even one of the best smells in the world couldn’t make me feel better. I glared at the clippings, thinking of Rex inthat tank top. Did he have to go and be so nice? Did he have to swan around showing off his muscles in front of Blair?

“Abigail,” Rex said, catching my elbow as I reached for a pile of clippings. “Hey. Abigail. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Can you slow down?”

“We need to get these clippings off the lawn before the grass dies. You said it yourself.”

“It’s not going to die in the next ten minutes.”

I stood up and faced him. “What?”

The sun caressed the planes of his face and glinted gold off his dark hair. He had stubble this morning, as if he hadn’t bothered to shave. Sweat dotted the middle of his chest, and the sight of it made me feel resentful. Why did he have to be all manly and gorgeous all the time? Even dripping in sweat, he was hot! It wasn’t fair.

His shoulders dropped. “Look, I know you’re not happy with me right now.”

---