Page 39 of Accidentally Falling for My Fake Wife

“Owens!” My stomach tightens, and I turn toward the sound of Brie’s voice to watch Josh make his way to her spot in the back of the line. Overwhelming panic surges through me.

I knew they were meeting today, but I had no clue they were meeting here. I should’ve coordinated with Brie.

The last thing I want is for Josh to catch me meeting up with Adam, considering this is more of a date than our previous two encounters. At least, I hope it’s more of a date.

I see Adam walking over to the table, a drink in each hand. Without thinking, I throw myself under the table. I immediately regret it when one of my hands lands on something sticky.

My face pulls as I look to see what it is, but I can’t see anything in the low light. Afraid to put my hand back down, I put most of my weight on my knees as I adjust my position, only to bang my head on the table.

Rubbing my head to get the sting out, I open my eyes and find Adam staring at me.

“Everything okay under there?” His eyes are dancing, and I am exceedingly grateful that my scarlet-shaded face is mostly hidden from him.

“Stop talking and sit down.” I wave my hand furiously toward the bench. He narrows his glinting eyes at me while he struggles to keep a smile from his face. I glare at him, but he doesn’t move.I pull on his pant leg and try to drag him toward the bench, but he only continues to stare at me. “Please. I promise I’ll tell you after you sit down.”

At that, he laughs at me but moves to the bench. Tension oozes from my body, just before I see a knee coming straight at me. I put out a hand to keep it from slamming into my face.

This was not the best idea I’ve ever had. Next time I’m in a situation like this, I’ll plan a bit better and pick a place with larger tables.

But hopefully, there will never be a ‘next time.’

“Mind telling me what’s going on?” Adam’s hushed voice is laced with humor and curiosity.

“Josh and Brie,” I spit out, feeling like a fool.

“What about Josh and Brie?” Adam leans under the table, giving me a heart-stopping smile that, unfortunately, considering my current circumstances, I want to smack off his face.

“Just tell me when they’re gone!” I smack his calf only to feel a sting from the impact.

Dang, that man has rocks for muscles.

“They just walked out the door and turned right.” Adam’s face reappears under the table with a cheeky grin. He catches me trying to figure out what direction is right and laughs. “Away from our table.”

I narrow my eyes at him and snort, unable to stop the embarrassment flow working through my body.

I must look completely ridiculous. Duh. Of course I do. I’m hiding under a table.

Awkwardly, I work to push my head and shoulders between the table and the bench, only to get stuck. I quickly glimpse Adam looking over at me, pressing his lips together. He turns his head away, but I don’t miss his shoulders shaking.

Heat crawls around my body. I’m pretty sure I’ve never made this big a fool of myself. Not in front of a man this attractive.

With one useless push, I realize I can’t get back into my seat. A huff escapes before I slide toward the front of the table. Adam’s laugh follows me. Taking the only option available, I crawl out on all fours into an open space of the Thanks-A-Latte dining area.

The space is eerily quiet, and I freeze. Slowly lifting my head, I find every eye in the room staring at me. A sheepish grin crawls across my lips.

“Got it!” I shout, searching my pocket for something to show everyone. Thank goodness for lip balm. “It rolled all the way to the back corner! I thought it was a goner.”

Amused expressions watch me. Everyone is pretty sure I didn’t go under the table to find lip balm, but no one makes any comments as they return to their coffee and conversation.

Finally clearing the table, I push myself up off of the ground and brush any dirt from my knees. Plopping on the bench, I feel Adam’s eyes on me. I turn to glare at him and growl. “Don’t. Say. Anything.”

He raises his hands in surrender, eyes dancing, with a delicious smirk playing around his lips.

Why does he have to look so good wearing a smirk?

He slides my coffee over to me, and I bring it to my lips. “Thank you,” I murmur.

Warmth spreads through me with another sip and I lean my head back against the top of the booth, letting out a sigh. I go to let go of the cup, but my hand sticks to it. I hold the cup with my other hand and rip it off.

---