Page 34 of The Invitation
“Or not,” Tate says, setting Waffles on the floor. “I’m guessing the meeting with Jonah today didn’t go well?”
“Oh, my meeting with Jonah went fine. It was the rest of the afternoon that was suspect.”
Tate’s brows pull together.He doesn’t have a clue.
“So I get to the Canoodle building and go inside,” I say, recounting the day before it went to shit. “I meet with Jonah. He thanks me for helping them out of a bind, and we review the show's details again. My attorney calls and clears me to sign the documents, and we’re good to go.”
Well, as good to go as one can possibly be when they’re told they’ll be fake-dating a stranger in front of a camera. I’ve studied hours of footage of athletes moving to work on their gait, batting positions, and range of motion—all the things for work. I’m excellent on that side of the camera.But in front of it?Not my forte.
My brother pulls out a bag of beef jerky from his desk.
“Jonah sends me to a conference room to get started, and that, my guy, is where it all fell apart,” I say, watching him offer Waffles a piece of jerky. “Hey, don’t give him that.”
“Why not? It’s meat. Dogs eat meat.”
“Because it’s not for dogs. What is it—teriyaki flavored?”
Tate nods.
“He can’t have that shit. Think about it. It’ll hurt his stomach.”
Tate rolls his eyes, tossing the bag on his desk again.
I pause long enough to give him a look so he knows I’m serious and won’t sneak a piece to Waffles behind my back.
“Guess who was in the conference room?” I ask, my heartbeat picking up.
“I have no idea.”
I tip back the rest of the bourbon and let it settle in my stomach before responding. Licking my lips, I feel the burn sweep through my gut and sigh. “Georgia.”
“Georgia?” He blinks. “Georgia Hayes?”
“How many fucking Georgias do you know?”
Tate freezes. He grabs the back of a chair, his eyes widening as he blinks. His surprise is obviously genuine as his mouth drops open.
Then, suddenly, he bursts into a fit of laughter. “No way.”
I stare at him as he revels in my pain.
“Your empathy is appreciated,” I deadpan.
“I’m sorry.” He cackles. “I just … you’re serious?”
“Do I look like I’m in the mood to joke about this?”
He clears his throat, choking back his amusement. “No. No, you don’t.”
Waffles paws at my leg, so I bend down and pick him up.
“You’re the only person I like today, Waffles,” I say. “It’s you and me against the world.”
He licks my hand before twisting in my grasp until he gets his face nestled against my shoulder.
“So …” Tate says, choosing his words carefully. “You and Georgia are pretending to date for a reality show?”
My insides tighten so hard I grimace.
