Page 48

Mindy

Today has been horrible. Even the food was too fancy to enjoy. I’m going to need to eat an actual meal after three hours of sitting at this restaurant pretending to eat. Another skill Mom taught me how to perfect.

“So, we’ll send a car for you tomorrow morning.” Mom leans in to hug me at the door.

No. I can’t be trapped at your wedding venue the entire weekend. Even though I kind of will be just based on the nature of the event. “There’s no need. My boyfriend can drive us there.” As soon as I figure out who he is. Maddox would do it. But would anyone truly believe that a man like him was dating an average girl like me?

Doubtful.

I need a sweet, average-looking guy who could handle my mother and her boyfriend critiquing them for an entire weekend.

That man doesn’t exist. I wait for them to step into their waiting car before leaving the restaurant. There’s no need for them to watch me walk towards the subway like an eighty-year-old arthritic woman.

There’s no point in procrastinating. It’s not like I’m going to get less sore. I step outside.

Right there, leaning against his SUV with his ankles crossed and his muscular arms folded across his chest, is Maddox.

That can’t be a coincidence.

“Did you enjoy your meal?” He stands up as I walk over.

Not at all. “It was delicious.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

What!?! “I’m a great liar.” I’ve been taught by the best.

“Keep telling yourself that.” He opens the passenger door for me.

Mom didn’t act like anything was off. Could she tell?

If she did, I’m so going to be dead tomorrow. Maybe I should call in sick.

Yeah, that wouldn’t work. She’d come, pry me out of bed, and force some pills down my throat. Like that one time, she wanted to go out on a boat with the guy she was dating and his kids. I took so many anti-nausea pills that day.

Maddox turns the car on without a word.

He stays silent.

Maddox doesn’t play games. This isn’t a game. “Are you mad at me?”

“Yes, Mindy, I’m mad at you.” He enunciates each word slowly, like he’s biting his tongue the entire time.

“Why? When we last talked, everything seemed fine.” Weird, but fine. You even tucked me in like you always do. I don’t want to think about how good a small little thing like that makes me feel.

“The last time we talked, you didn’t run off without telling anyone where you were or what you were doing.” His fingers start tapping the wheel. “You just ran out. If security hadn’t been watching, I wouldn’t have known until I showed up with dinner and you weren’t there. Can you imagine how I would feel? The last time you were gone for three days. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. Could you imagine the fear going through my head when you ran onto the subway?” He hits the wheel and pulls over.

“No.”

“They said you got a phone call and left. Why did you up and disappear without telling me?”

Disappear? “I went to lunch. And what do you mean, security watched me leave?

“Security, you know Canyon and the other guys on his team.” Maddox raises an eyebrow at me.

“They watch your building. How would they know I got on the subway?”

“I thought Leonie explained this to you. On Willow Street, we protect dozens of children every day. That means a lot more security than one little building.”

“You watch everything?”

He nods. “But the question is, why did you run away without telling anyone?”

“Run away? I met my mother for dinner.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you? Why?”

“So that I don’t worry.”

Worry?

He stares at me for a long moment.

“What?”

“You really didn’t think to mention to me or to anyone where you’re going.”

“I’ve never had someone care enough to ask where I’m going.” Why did I say that out loud?

“I care.”

Two words. All it took was two words to crack my world.

“Are you going to cry?”

“No. I have makeup on.”

He reaches across the cup holder and brushes a tear off my cheek. “It’s okay to cry.”

“No. It’s not. Especially for the next few days. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Mom would kill me dead on the spot if I ruined my makeup at her wedding. Fake tears are fine…real ones…I shudder at the thought.

“What you’re going to do is rest, play with the snakes, and eat. That’s what you’re going to do for the next few days.”

Don’t I wish. “I need to go to my mother’s wedding this weekend.”

He chokes, well, kind of coughs. “What?”

“That was what the whole meal thing was for. Anyway, she was finding me a pity date. Which, in case you don’t know, my mother has horrible taste in men. She looks at their money and their body. Personality always comes last. One of my dates spent the entire time asking to see my feet. It was weird.”

He laughs.

“Not helping.”

Maddox gives me a little smirk.

Sexy. Focus. “So, I told her I was dating someone. And now, I have less than twenty hours to pack and find someone to fake date me.”

“Fake date you?” The smirk turns into a chuckle.

“This isn’t funny.” I glare at him. “I thought about asking you, but Mom would never believe it. Do you think Canyon would say yes? He’s goofy enough that my mom could believe he’d date me.”

“What?”

“Or maybe I should call Kyle. We would look cute together, and he promised me a museum trip.”

“What? Why wouldn’t your mother believe we could be dating?”

Really? “You’re joking, right?”

There’s that eyebrow raise again. “No.”

Men! “She just wouldn’t.”

“Why don’t we convince her otherwise?”

Is he offering— “You’re willing to be my fake date. Wow! Are you sure? Mother is a bit particular. And she’s already enlisted Percival—” Who names their kid Percival? “—to give my date the third degree. I’m sure I can find someone else.”

“You don’t need anyone else.”

The way he says that makes me wish this was real. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Well then, we'd better get packed. Can you bring that black suit you wore during my interview? And then a grey suit with a bl—”

“You remember what I was wearing during your interview?”

Women never forget the first time they meet a man like you. You’re permanently etched on our brains. “Sure. We need to come up with a cover story. It needs to be thorough enough to stand up to Mom’s shenanigans.”

“Why don’t we use our own story? We met, played chess, pet some snakes, and fell in love.”

Hmmm. “Nah. Mom would never believe that. We need to come up with something more realistic. Like we met at a friend’s wedding, where you were the groomsman and I was a bridesmaid. We were forced to dance together the whole night. You got a little drunk and kissed me.”

“The first time I kissed you, I was drunk?”

“Yes, do follow along. We need to keep our stories straight.”

“Was our drunken kiss good?”

How could kissing you ever be bad? “Spectacular. Which is why you called me the next morning and asked me out. Maybe somewhere simple—” I glance over at him. “—but elegant. We had sushi. Then walked around a few galleries. Yes. That sounds believable.”

“It sounds completely insane.”

“I know. Mom will love it. Let’s work on the little details now…”