Page 7 of Boss's Baby: A Fake Fiance Romance

“Usually stay in with the family. But my sister talked me into coming out.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, Katie? Where is she?”

“She…had to go home early.”

“But you’re sticking around.”

“Not for long. Only for enough time to finish my drink.”

“Too bad, because—”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to know what the hell was going on.

“OK, Josh?” I asked, cutting him off. “Great to see you and all, but can you tell me what’s going on here?”

An expression of surprise formed on his face, followed by a thoughtful one. I got the impression he was trying to figure out if he should keep on with the bullshit fake pleasantry, or get to it.

“OK, here’s the deal. I’m in kind of a jam right now, and I could really use your help.”

“A jam? What do I have to do with it?”

“You’ve got something I need.” He reached down and took my hand, the one with the ring. “This guy, right here.”

Just like how I hated to admit his grin had a hell of an effect on me, his touch was the same way. I should’ve yanked my hand from his and told him to screw off, but I couldn’t. The asshole had cast a spell on me.

“Congratulations, by the way. Is he here?”

Fuck. Now I was going to have to explain my situation, why I was wearing a ring and not engaged. But later—not like I needed to explain myself to him.

“He’s not,” I said. “And you don’t know him, so don’t worry about his name.”

“Fair enough.” He didn’t seem bothered at all by my sharp tone. “But congrats all the same. Anyway, I’m in kind of a hurry, so can I tell you what’s up?”

I wasn’t in a “doing favors” mood, but shit, I had to admit I was curious. The longer I regarded Josh, the more certain I was that something had him shaken. His usual cocky confidence was still there in spades, of course, but there was definitely something else. What could’ve had the unflappable Josh Taylor feeling off-kilter?

“OK. Let’s hear it.”

“You remember Melody Hain?”

“Oh, you mean Manic Melody?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I take that as a yes.”

Whoops. “I mean, that was kind of what me and my friends called her. But only like once or twice.” More than that, of course, be he didn’t need to know. “You guys dated, right?”

“We dated. And she’s here. And it’s looking like she’s ready to pick up where we left off.”

“Is that good?”

“Not really. I’m not into her, but she’s into me.”

“Then why not tell her?”

“First thing I did. But you know…”

“Manic Melody.” I couldn’t help but smile a tiny bit.

“Anyway, I told her that I wasn’t interested, and she isn’t exactly accepting my answer. So I had to come up with a little white lie. Like…”

Ah—lightbulb moment. “Like that you are engaged.”

He nodded in a charmingly boyish “you’ve got me” kind of way.

“Stupid, I know. But it was the only thing that came to mind.”

“Problem is you’re not. And you don’t have a fiancée.”

“True, but the solution is you’re here and you’ve got a particularly gorgeous ring on that finger of yours.”

Then would’ve been a good time to tell him I wasn’t really engaged. But hey, if he was going to be dishonest, why couldn’t I?

“And you want me to pretend to be your future wife?”

“I know it’s weird and kind of sketchy. But it’d be doing me a big favor. For what it’s worth.”

As much as I hated to admit it, seeing Josh like that made me kind of sympathetic. Sure, I could’ve thrown him to the wolves—or one particular wolf with blonde, curly hair, but…

“You remember that time you and your friends came into Two Scoops?” I asked. “And you guys had me make the entire Ultra Grand Slam Sundae Special? All twelve scoops of it? And then as soon as I was done you told me you were like, eh, not feeling it, and left?”

“Might faintly remember.”

“Or the time you all came in five minutes before close and asked us to make a ‘sampler’ of shakes, knowing that we’d just shut that thing down?”

“Hey, posted hours are posted hours.” He followed this with another one of those disarming smiles. “Listen, I was a jackass back then. And if you want to tell me to screw off, I’ll get it. But all I need is five minutes of your time, and I’ll be totally in your debt.”

There was more that I hadn’t said, how he and his friends’ teasing hadn’t been limited to being dicks at my ice cream shop. Jokes about the sort of situation my family came from, how he and his bros seemed to get some kind of sick thrill out of making me and other girls who went to the “poor-kid high school” feel like total garbage for not being born into a family that lived on an estate.

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