Pretending He's Mine Page 9

  She sighs. “You know what? Never mind. I’m not entitled to sex with you, and I’m being an ass right now. Can we talk about something else?”

  That’s an excellent idea, because there’s nothing more torturous than talking about fucking with a person you want to fuck but won’t. “Do you remember when your cousin Lydia put your training bra over her sweater and teased you about being flat-chested?”

  I shut my eyes and cringe. Nice going, Julian. Mention an embarrassing moment from her childhood. That’s sure to break the tension.

  She grimaces as she trots down memory lane. “God, Lydia was such a snot. I think she studied every mean-girl cliché she saw in a movie and tried to emulate each one.” She squints at me, smiles triumphantly, and presses her luscious tits together. “Meet Last and Laugh. They’re quite a pair.”

  I gulp, my throat dry and scratchy. No, no, no, no. Do not look at them, Julian. Don’t do it.

  While I’m focused on not looking, she snaps her eyebrows together. “And what in the world made you think of Lydia?”

  “You’ll see her at the family reunion in less than two weeks.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  I draw back. “You’re not going?”

  The exasperation in her expression intensifies. “Of course I’m going. I wouldn’t miss my brother’s wedding for the world.” Then she widens her eyes and winces. “Dammit.”

  I sit up. “Hang on. The reunion is a wedding?”

  She drops her head to her chest. “They’re going to kill me.”

  “Carter didn’t want me to know?”

  “They wanted it to be a surprise for pretty much everyone except their immediate families.”

  Her comment pricks my skin like a stick jabbing a tender wound. Right. I’m not immediate family. “Oh.”

  She raises her head, her gaze soft and earnest. “Julian, whatever you’re thinking, don’t. Carter didn’t tell you because he wanted you to have plausible deniability with colleagues and industry folks. He didn’t want to put the pressure on you to keep this quiet.”

  That passes the sniff test, I guess. But I can’t imagine how they expect to pull this off. “So everyone’s going to show up and they’ll say what? ‘Surprise, we’re getting married’? Is that how this is supposed to work?”

  “No, they’re actually planning reunion activities. Football, a cookout, a trip to the spa. The closing brunch will be the wedding. The hope is that the paparazzi will believe it’s a reunion, get what they think they need, and leave town before the wedding day.”

  Makes sense to me. Most paparazzi can’t afford to pay out of pocket and follow any one celebrity for long anyway. Still, I can’t help thinking that People magazine would be all over photos of Carter and Tori’s wedding. The publicity could be tremendous. As Carter’s friend, however, I understand why they’d want to avoid the circus. “It’s a great idea, and wild as fuck.”

  Her eyes flicker with excitement. “I thought the same thing. And if any two people can pull this off, it’ll be them.”

  “So how are you going to avoid Lydia?”

  Everyone in the family knows Ashley and Lydia will never be best friends.

  “Easy. I’ll show up for”—she makes air quotes—“ ‘the closing brunch.’ I’ll slip in and out and avoid Lydia or any of the other small-minded people who tortured me during my misspent youth.”

  “But what about everything else? Football, the cookout. Your parents, Carter, Kimberly. Everyone will want you there.”

  “There’ll be so much going on that they won’t even realize I’m not around. Besides, if I get there any earlier, I’ll be forced to talk to Lydia and the rest of my catty relatives. I don’t want to be a distraction, and if I see any of those people, I don’t think I’ll be able to be civil.”

  Over the years, Ashley’s made a few comments about the shitty behavior of people in Harmon. I’ve taken them as snide observations about a place too small for her personality. But her reluctance to spend more than a single day in Harmon and her remark about being “tortured” make me pause. I’d already graduated from Weston when Ashley started high school, so my knowledge of that period in her life is incomplete. “What did the people in Harmon do, Ashley?”

  Her face hardens, and her body tenses as though she’s steeling herself for the impending effect of her memories. “No one pulled my hair or took my stuff or anything like that. They just . . . said mean things about me. The common theme was that I was a slut, for being with one boy with loose lips. And when Carter left for LA, the joke around town was that I’d follow him after high school . . . and spend all of my time on the casting couch, doing what I do best.”

  “This was high school? Shit. What dicks. People like that don’t know you, and they don’t deserve to. And they were jealous, of course.”

  She shrugs. “Of Carter, maybe. And they took it out on me.”

  “Look at you now, though. They’ll eat their words.”

  She cocks her head at me and snorts. “I’m a flight attendant, Julian. I’ll be walking into the mile-high club jokes as soon as I arrive.”

  “Oh, c’mon. Lydia’s older. Everyone’s older. They have to be over it by now.”

  “You’d think so. But no. I went home for the holidays last year, and although I didn’t see Lydia, I did see the others. They’re less obvious about it . . . because, Carter. Still, the undercurrent of pettiness is there, and for obvious reasons I can’t avoid Lydia this time. Oh, and she just broke up with her boyfriend. Mom says she’s been a bear lately. And I’m sure she’s still holding on to her crush for you.”

  I cock my head back. “Me?”

  “Yes, you,” she says with a bored expression. “She was miffed that you were the one boy who wouldn’t give her the time of day. You didn’t know?”

  “She was a little girl. I wouldn’t have paid attention to her even if she’d been the only person in town, and she wasn’t.”

  “You never noticed how Lydia always appeared at our house when you were stuck at Weston during a school break?” She slaps her hand on the sofa cushion when I stare at her blankly. “Oh my God, Julian, I suffered through sleepovers with her when you were around. Only then did she pretend to be my friend.”

  “I had no clue.”

  “Well, I don’t think she’s going to let you remain clueless when she sees you for the reunion. And maybe that’s not a bad thing. If she’s preoccupied with you, I might be able to suffer through her presence when I’m there.” She arches her back and yawns.

  Don’t stare, Julian. Don’t you fucking do it.

  She stands and pats my thigh. “Don’t look so traumatized. You’ll have a great time.” Stretching enough to expose her midriff, she yawns. “I’m headed to bed. Thanks again for cheering me up.”

  “Good night,” I say.

  “Sweet dreams,” she says as she shuffles away.

  I make a valiant effort not to study her smooth calves, but I fail. Everything about her—her left-of-center smile, the rasp in her voice, the way she moves, our easy conversations—draws me in and slows me down. Makes me want to dive in and swim in her.

  After she disappears down the hall, I collapse against the sofa cushion, exhausted by the strain of not giving in to our attraction. The prospect of spending four days in Harmon and interacting with Lydia has no appeal, but I’ll do it for Carter and Tori. And if Ashley chooses to swoop in and stay for only a day, that’s probably for the best anyway. We’re managing being in close quarters largely because one of us usually is gone. But if we spend a significant amount of time together, while I’m on vacation no less, I’ll do something stupid. No question about it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ashley

  I WAKE TO voices in the condo. Although I’m groggy, I know a woman’s laugh when I hear it. Goodness, is he out there with a booty call? Worse, is it someone he’s dating? Sooyin, maybe? No, it couldn’t be his gorgeous colleague—she made it clear she wasn’t interested in Julian—so i
t’s got to be the former. Or . . . Stop it, Ashley. It could be anyone. And you’re moving on, remember?

  After groaning into my pillow, I turn onto my back and listen for a clue as to the mystery woman’s identity. I bolt upright when a fist pounds against my bedroom door.

  “Get up, bacon breath. Your favorite brother’s here for a visit.”

  I smile at the sound of Carter’s voice and yell back. “You’re my only brother.”

  He continues to speak to me outside the door. “I’m confident that if you had more than one, I’d still be your favorite.”

  “That’s conceit, not confidence.”

  “Confidence, conceit. To-may-to, to-mah-to. Get out here. Tori’s with me.”

  “Well, you should have said that first.” I pull back the covers and drag myself out of bed. Opening the door, I greet him with a genuine smile. “Hey, potato head.”

  He peeks around me and scans the bedroom. “You good? Everything okay?”

  His dark hair is in disarray, the tuft at the front that refuses to stay put sticking up in the air like a shark’s fin rising out of the water. We favor each other, except he’s got ice blue eyes like my older sister, Kimberly, whereas mine are maple-syrup brown. Seeing him now, it’s both easy and hard to believe my older brother makes people swoon when they see him on the big screen. To them, he’s a heartthrob. To me, though, he’s just Carter. My funny, sweet, and overprotective brother. I palm his face and push him away. “No, you can’t come into my room. Also, your snooping skills are weak. Didn’t Mom teach you the art of being subtle about your nosiness?”

  “Must have missed that lesson.” He yanks on a lock of my hair—to distract me—and then he tries to wedge himself inside. “Along with the one about how to stop worrying about your pip-squeak of a sister.”

  Ruthless in my mission, I tickle him in his ribs, and he backs away.

  “Brush your teeth and get out here, stat,” he yells over his shoulder.

  “Whatever,” I grumble on my way to the bathroom. Spinning around before he leaves, I tell him, “By the way, Kimberly’s my favorite sibling, just so we’re clear.”

  He pretends to shove a dagger in his chest and stumbles out the room.

  A few minutes later, I join everyone in the living room, where Julian and Tori are chatting on the couch and Carter’s swiping through his phone.

  Julian notices me before they do, and my breath hitches when his gaze roams over my face and body. I’m tempted to call out, You want some of this, doncha? Getting a rise out of him would be fun. But given the way he’s looking at me, I bet he’s rising on his own just fine.

  Tori glances at him, catching Julian’s lazy inspection, and a crease appears between her brows as she registers that she no longer has his attention because it’s focused on me.

  Oh, Julian. You’re such a dope. If only you’d relax and live for the moment. Just once. Or twice. Or, hell, three times—so I get the full Julian experience.

  After a shake of her head, Tori jumps up, her long, curly hair fanning around her shoulders as she crosses the room. She enfolds me in a hug. “Ahhh, it’s so good to be able to jump in a car and drop by to see you.”

  I give her an equally effusive embrace. Tori’s quickly becoming one of my favorite people. I wish I could travel back in time, transport her to my childhood, and tell her my silly secrets as we paint each other’s toenails and listen to P!nk. “Well, the good thing is, now that I’m around, I can help with wedding prep if you need it.”

  Her eyes go wide as she scrunches her brows, and then she cocks her head in Julian’s direction, as though she’s mentally telling me to keep quiet about the pending nuptials. Carter looks up from his phone, a stricken expression compounding my guilt.

  “He knows.” My disclosure comes out in a pathetic wail. “It just slipped out in conversation. I’m so sorry.”

  Their heads whip around, and they both stare at Julian.

  Carter recovers first. “I hope you understand, man. I wanted you to be able to say you knew nothing about it. Especially with Dana, who will flip her shit when she finds out.”

  Dana is Carter’s publicist, and from what I can gather, she gets miffed when Carter doesn’t inform her of matters that might—or in this case, should—get press attention. Her client’s wedding qualifies.

  Julian, looking delectable in a black tank and his favorite gray sweats—and wearing underwear this time—waves his explanation away. “Are you sure you didn’t keep this from me because you thought I’d press you to make a big splash of it?”

  Carter rubs the back of his neck. Busted.

  “Because if you’d consulted me about it, I would have at least had you consider the potential for getting your name out there in a big way that makes you even more marketable than you are now. And it wouldn’t have to be a big—”

  “Julian,” Carter interrupts, raising his voice. The tightness in his eyes hints at his annoyance.

  I’m not accustomed to witnessing tension between these two, and Tori isn’t either, it seems. We exchange worried glances and wait.

  After several seconds of taut silence, Carter sighs heavily. “Just be happy for us, okay? This is what we’ve decided to do.”

  Julian’s chest rises as he draws in a slow breath. “Fine. And of course I’m happy for you.” He grins, but his gaze remains cloudy. “But let’s keep my knowledge between us, okay? Quinn will be on my ass if he thinks I didn’t dissuade you from doing this.”

  Carter nods, his expression softening. “Deal.” He clears his throat. “Hey, listen, do you think your parents would come?”

  It’s a peace offering, and Julian accepts it.

  “For the wedding? I’m sure my mother would love to.”

  I suspect no one missed that he didn’t say anything about his father.

  Tori, who’s been chewing on her bottom lip with a vengeance, sighs in relief. “I’m so glad we can be open about this now.” She turns to me. “You do have something in mind to wear, yes?”

  “Not yet, but don’t worry. I won’t show up naked.”

  Julian coughs into his hand, and Carter pats him on the back. “You all right, J?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little parched.” He rushes to the sink and fills a glass with water. Leaning against the counter, he chugs until his watery eyes clear.

  Tori quirks an eyebrow at him and returns her attention to me. “Anyway, you’ll be arriving Thursday, right?”

  I stare down at my toes. “Um, no. I don’t think I can.” Glancing at her confused expression, I try to shove away my guilt. “But I’ll be at the wedding, of course. And you’ll be so busy you won’t even miss me.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Julian staring at Tori and me.

  Carter, who’s now slouching in a chair, straightens and pins me with a questioning gaze. “You don’t want to be there?”

  “With you guys, yes. In Harmon, no. The outer layers of our clan are more than I want to handle. And it’s not just Lydia. It’s Uncle Richard and Aunt Carol, who’ll undoubtedly have hundreds of questions about my love life.”

  “Carol is Lydia’s mother?” Tori asks.

  “Yes,” I say.

  In fact, every time I see Aunt Carol, she asks me whether I’ve “sown my oats yet,” probably because Lydia’s spun a tale about my sexual exploits that bears no resemblance to the truth. It’s gross, and annoying, and I don’t want to deal with it. So yeah, I’ll show up for the wedding, make nice with my extended family for Carter and Tori’s sake, and spend time with my true loved ones another time. But I’m not staying any longer than necessary.

  Carter chuckles. “Well, I’m guessing Lydia will be busy flirting with Julian, so you probably won’t have to deal with her.”

  Julian pushes off the counter and throws up his hands. “Was I the only one who didn’t know Lydia had a crush on me?”

  Carter and I answer at the same time. “Yes.”

  Tori laughs. “If it’s any consolation, I was
n’t aware of it, either. But of course, I didn’t know any of you then.”

  Julian smirks at her. “Oh, you’ve got jokes now, too.”

  Carter stands and pulls Tori to his side. “You should be happy about that. It means you’re in her inner circle.”

  Because pettiness sometimes gets the best of me, I can’t help emphasizing the painful experience Julian shouldn’t be looking forward to. “Now that Lydia’s broken up with her high school sweetheart, she’s . . . how did my mother put it . . . oh, right, she’s a free woman and raring to go.”

  Julian winces and grips the back of his neck. “This is beginning to sound like a nightmare. And you know what? I’m not sure I’ll be able to take off that much time. It’s a well- known fact that agents never rest.”

  Carter’s eyebrows snap together. “You told me you’d already worked out your vacation schedule.”

  This time Julian’s the one who’s busted, and he wears a sheepish smile to prove it. “Right.”

  “Just tell Lydia you have a girlfriend,” Carter offers, his fingers tapping away at his phone. “It’s not like she’d be able to call you on that.”

  I snort. “You say that like an out-of-sight girlfriend would make a difference to her. I assure you, it would not.”

  Tori studies Julian and me, her gaze swinging between us, and then her eyes go wide. She thumps Carter on the chest several times. “Wait. I have an idea.” She holds out her hands in a hear-me-out-first stance, her eyes glittering with mischief. “What if you two pretended to be dating? Just for the weekend?”

  When I see Julian’s stricken expression, I slap a hand against my mouth to stem the cackle waiting to burst from my throat.

  That’s an excellent question. What if, Julian?

  Chapter Twelve

  Julian

  I’VE NEVER EXPERIENCED a brain fart—until now.

  This is not the blessedly quiet and uneventful Saturday I was looking forward to. Not even a tiny bit. That awkward moment when I failed to take off my agent hat and congratulate Tori and Carter on their impending nuptials was the first disruption. This harebrained scheme to pretend I’m dating Ashley is the second.