Page 17 of Don't Game Me
“I asked him to be my date, but he didn’t commit. He’s worried Noah will blow a gasket.”
“You two as a date to my wedding?”
“It won’t be a real date. Just an escort situation.” Her face scorched. “I don’t mean that I want to hook up with Jake. I only need someone to take me there and then get me home. Someone to keep the family off my back about the bouquet catch.”
“A real fake date? Uh-huh.” Sarcasm oozed from Tori’s words. “As if anyone would believe you and Jake had something real going on. Everyone knows him, and they know you. Wait a minute, do you actuallywantJake to be your date? What about the guy who was supposed to be coming as your date?”
“Nothing was going on with Stuart. That was a fake date.”
“You want to date Jake? As in a real date-date.” She compressed her lips against laughter. “Your face has gone so red. I’d say that’s a yes. But, Becca. You and Jake? The man seems to be a business genius and generally okay guy when he’s not being a hardass about something he wants done his way at work. But I’ve heard he’s got the worst track record with women.”
“I’m not looking for anything real with him. No date-date. I need a real fake date to get past the bouquet business.” Their kiss blasted through her mind. Suddenly, the room was way too warm. She tugged at the edge of her blouse. “It’s a stupid plan.”
“You being the sister-of-the-groom will be a problem.” Tori’s face scrunched up.
“He already said no to me once,” she mumbled. She wasn’t sure how to further her be-my-date plan, not after he labeled her too high a risk. A flutter set up shop in the pit of her stomach. The nervousness now humming through her veins had everything to do with the scorching memory of Jake’s tongue in her mouth, not her potential failure to snag him as her date.
Jake wanted her. Maybe she could make him jealous enough to say yes. Ridiculous idea. Maybe she didn’t need to forge ahead in the get-close-to-Jake order from Pascal. She hadn’t heard anything yet.
She whipped out her phone. No new message.
After selecting her coffee out of all the other coffees on the kitchen counter that she’d picked up, she checked her phone again, even though she hadn’t heard the ding for an incoming text.
Nothing.
“Becca, where are you?” her mom called out.
As she strode down the hall and rounded into the main gathering room, her phone dinged.
Pascal:Okay.
Flummoxed, Becca tripped over the oversized decorative vase just inside the entryway to the dining room. She skipped a few paces before catching her balance. The vase hit the floor with a teeth-cringing shatter.
“Becca!” her mom screeched.
“It jumped out at me. I swear. Is it new?” She fell to her knees to collect the larger pieces of broken pottery.Okay to what? She was out? Couldn’t be that easy.
“Are you hurt, honey?” Her mom stood above the shattered remains of the vase. Her tone conveyed mourning over the vase far more than concern Becca had been injured. “Did you forget your glasses?”
“I’m fine. My contacts are in. I’m sorry. I didn’t see it.”
“Leave it. I’ll get it later.” Her mom threw an arm around Becca as she stood and pulled her into a hug. She whispered, “Please try not to fall apart. I need you to keep it together for the next two days. That thing that happened at the wedding last year, catching the bouquet…don’t worry. It doesn’t mean anything.” Her tone conveyed otherwise. She smiled around the room. “We need mimosas. Did someone find the champagne opener yet?”
“I can do it without some gimmicky piece of plastic,” Noah offered.
Mom rounded on him with a scary glower.
Noah’s eyes widened. “Sounds like we need to find that opener.”
There were at least five other witnesses to Becca’s humiliation, including her brothers, her uncle, and Tori. They were all trying desperately not to laugh. Her face was going to spontaneously combust at this point from humiliation.
She wanted to flash them the finger and shout an expletive, but Mom would break out in hives over such unladylike behavior.
At least Jake missed it.
Last night’s ten p.m. text from Becca’s mom labeled this morning a crisis. Jake pushed inside without ringing the doorbell or knocking. No reason to announce his tardiness, even though he was only fifteen minutes late. The condo reflected a wealth he’d dreamt about as a child and had earned after years of hard work. Yet, his success teetered on the edge of failure over a few huge bets he’d made for the company. If things didn’t go well with the next game launch and with their new product, it’d be over.
His gaze caught on the classic family picture of the Harrisons in the hallway when the kids were young, two of the three boys in braces and Becca in bulky glasses. A few photos down included a picture of Jake and Noah holding a package containing the first game they’d ever launched together. He respected Noah’s parents, both of whom spent decades building a thriving paint empire, which started with one store in Queens and grew to over twenty all over New York City. Now retired and the business sold, Noah’s mom remained an ever-active volunteer and general busybody while his dad had cut down on his activities since the dementia started.
