Page 42 of One Small Secret

“You think I wouldn’t, after you just told me how much they were worth?”

“They’re worth that much to the company, but not to the owner of the picture. The whole company does better when my name is trending.”

“Geez, Ruben. So all this time I thought you were making executive decisions, but really your job at Palmer hotels is just to smile at the camera and take off your shirt?”

He sticks his tongue out at me, and I’m suddenly regretful I hadn’t allowed myself to be more childish with him. “I do make some decisions.” He sighs. “But Grandpa trusts your assessment of locations more than mine. So, yes, being a hot topic item is an important job of mine. And I take it seriously. Seriously enough to only date women who can help build my fan base, and seriously enough to not get emotionally involved with any of them. That way, when we break it off, there's no damage to either of our reputations.”

What can I say to that? I’ve been living a lie for two weeks and it has nearly killed me. Ruben has been doing it since high school. “I didn’t know.”

“You weren’t supposed to.” He rubs the back of his neck. “My family doesn’t even know. They know I’m not super serious about the women I date, and they know I want the followers and notoriety that comes from dating them. But they think I like it, and I’d like to keep it that way.” He looks at me. “But I made one really big mistake. I pulled you and Axley into this mess, and I’m not sure how to fix it.”

Mess? This mess is Ruben’s life. His perfect smile and perfect outings—all for show. But wait. “Are you telling me none of your relationships were real?”

“Andrew arranged all of them.”

I sit up straighter and turn so I can see his face better. “What about Alyssa Fourtuna?”

His eyes widen and the corner of his mouth raises. “Okay, that was a little bit real.” I grab a throw pillow and, well, throw it. It lands on his chest and he holds it tight. “What? Like you wouldn’t date someone like her, if given the chance? She’s…” Ruben’s eyes glaze over slightly, and I really want to stick my tongue out, but apparently I’m still holding back. He has a point. The sample size of adults on the planet who would pass up the chance to put the moves on Alyssa would have a majority of coma patients in it. And a few of them would probably wake up for the opportunity. “Anyway,” he shrugs, “it still didn’t work out.”

“Really?” I act surprised. “She didn’t want to date someone who only wanted her for her body? Shocking.”

Ruben sits up, his long legs sliding back up to a ninety-degree angle. His eyes catch mine. “Maybe I didn’t want to date someone just for her body.” I narrow my eyes at him because his answer still has to be sexist, right? I try to figure out how, but the low tone of his voice makes me feel like someone needs to put brighter light bulbs in this room. He tips his head to one side. “But you're right, too. It was mutual. And from then on, I just didn’t bother to actually date the women I was linked to. They were all nice, but…”

I want him to finish that sentence so badly my teeth hurt. But what?

He leans toward me and I resist the urge to pull back. “I’m so sick of all the pretending.” There are shadows under his eyes. He looks…vulnerable. He is a puppy every woman in the world would pick up and bring home to take care of. His voice is delicious and his face only a foot away from mine. “What I really want is something real.”

Dang, he's good. I’m suddenly very much in the market for a puppy. There’s no way all of those women who dated him didn’t hope something more could come of it. “And you think because I live in your hometown, have a real job, and come with a baby, I’m more real.”

“Hey.” Ruben looks mortally wounded. “Creating and selling handbags is a real job.”

“What about dancing on viral videos?”

“It’s called choreography, and don’t disparage it. Melinda worked hard on every single one of those.”

“I have a hard time believing anyone is going to get excited about you dating me. I’m pretty basic, and I supposedly have a kid.”

“Andrew has never been wrong about anything like this. If he thinks dating a mom is even more exciting than dating a supermodel, he's right. And like I said, I could do with a change.”

“You want to trade in your baboon-butt hair scarf for a minivan?”

“My what?”

“Your baboon-butt hair scarf.” I scoff like he's an idiot if he doesn’t have one. “I hear they're all the rage.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “No, they aren’t. If they were, Andrew would have one for me. Besides, I don’t need to trade in anything. The company has a van.”

“I don’t mean one of those fancy converted monster vans with tinted windows. I mean sliding doors and popcorn smashed between the seats.”

“Do they sell them with popcorn already smashed between the seats?”

“If they’re used, I don’t think it's optional.”

“So, if I buy a used minivan with child dirt, will you agree to date me?”

I laugh. “You mean fake date you?”

His answer takes a minute, and when it comes, it's a whisper. “Real…fake…whatever you want, Cadence. I’ll do whatever you want.”

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