Too Goode to be True (Love Hashtagged #2) (10 page)

“I still don’t get it,” Brad said.

“We’re sitting here, watching the two of you thump your chests like cavemen.” Gwen met his gaze. “Ethan’s doing it because—I assume—Jaycie had problems with a stalker, and they both walked away with a few bruises before the guy was arrested, so he’s a little protective. But you…” A tiny smile played on her face. “You’re doing it for me.”

“Of course I am.”

“And it makes me realize Jaycie was right, way back when we were kids. Sometimes it’s nice to have a handsome knight fighting for me and beside me.”

Brad adored the way she phrased that. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” He kissed her fingertips.

“You still need to watch yourself”—most of the animosity had vanished from Ethan’s voice—“or Gwen’ll kick your ass.”

“My favorite game so far, is a 3D fighter from Japan. The new
Guardians of the Arena
.” Jaycie’s sharp tone implied she wanted to move on

Brad knew the previous matter wasn’t completely resolved, but maybe now grievances were aired, he could try and get along with these people. Besides, this was what he hoped for. A topic he could pick up and run with. “I know the game. We just announced a contract with the license owners for an entire line based on the character’s outfits.”

Jaycie turned her attention from cooking long enough to meet his gaze. “Ooh. Are doing anything with Sayuri’s outfit?”

“It depends on what inspires Tori and what the client requests. I can point them in that direction.”

“Either that, or if Tori takes commissions, I need to talk to her, because Ethan—”

“
La-la-la
.” Gwen covered her ears loosely as she chanted, smiling the entire time. “No kink conversations at dinner. That’s the rule.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jaycie ducked back behind the grill. “I’ll wait until after desert to get details from you, then.”

Brad relaxed as the conversation progressed. As dinner was served, and the evening wore on, he couldn’t ignore the nagging question in the back of his head. How much was this going to hurt both him and Gwen, if the lie of the engagement clashed with the reality of what he felt for her?

Gwen felt like a giddy girl, unable to sit still before her date. Since it was a Monday, she couldn’t find enough to occupy her time, and arrived at the café early, where she was meeting Brad for lunch. She grabbed a table for them outside, and sipped her iced tea while she tried to convince herself she wasn’t watching the parking lot.

It had been a couple of days since dinner with Jaycie and Ethan, and what started out as a potential disaster of an evening, ending on a lovely note. Or rather, once her friends went home, the night carried on for a few more hours, with a few very vocal notes involved. It made her grateful she didn’t have shared walls, and neighbors who would bitch about her being too loud during sex.

Since then, she and Brad had spent most of their non-working time together. She could admit she was hooked.

When his familiar car turned into the parking lot, her pulse kicked up a notch. When he got out of the vehicle, a women stepped from the passenger side, and Gwen’s gut lurched. She didn’t like the instinct, but couldn’t squelch it.

Brad grinned as they approached, soothing her a tad. When he leaned in and kissed her hard on the lips before saying anything else, the rest of Gwen’s apprehension vanished.

The woman with him cleared her throat. He straightened, and nodded to her. “Gwen, this is my sister, Tori.”

Which would explain why she looked like him.
Duh.
Gwen shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same.” Tori took her seat.

Brad sat next to Gwen. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you. She stopped by the office early, we’ve got a meeting this afternoon, and she’s been asking me to introduce you two.”

“I don’t mean to intrude.” Tori fiddled with the hem of her shorts, rather than making eye contact.

The contrast between their behaviors was almost startling. “It’s not an issue.” The truth of Gwen’s reassurance sank in. It was actually a bit of a relief. She knew from Brad’s stories he was close to Tori, and if he was okay with them meeting, it was a pleasant confirmation he was as happy with Gwen as she was with him.

Brad’s phone rang, and he grabbed for it without hesitation. He frowned when he checked the screen. “Drea’s school. I need to take this.”

“Absolutely.” Tori’s concerned expression matched his.

“Hello? Hey, hon. Are you all right?” Brad’s tone shifted to sympathetic.

Gwen wasn’t sure what was appropriate in a case like this. She didn’t want to eavesdrop on a call with who she assumed was his daughter, but as a good fiancée, she should be as drawn in as they were. And she was, she realized. Concern gnawed her gut, not just for Brad, but for Drea.

“For Astronauts’ Club? I thought Mom had you covered…. No, I know. No one’s to blame, things happen… Of course. I’ll be there after school, and I’ll have something for you… It’s a surprise. I’ll see you in a few hours.” He pocketed his phone with a quiet, “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Tori asked.

“Her Astronauts’ Club is holding a bake sale this afternoon, to raise money for season planetarium passes for the kids. Emily promised to make something, and she called the school about half an hour ago to tell them she couldn’t after all. Drea needs cookies or something in the next couple of hours.”

“Figures. God, can’t that woman be counted on for anything?” The quiet Tori who sat down at the start of lunch was gone, replaced with a scowling, irritated individual. “Is there any way I can help?”

“No. That’s the last thing the kids need, is food poisoning.” He managed a smile.

Tori slapped his arm playfully. “Jerk.”

The simple exchange settled into Gwen, leaving her with an empty ache for the relationship she used to share with George. She shoved the past aside. This was now, and she could help. As long as it didn’t mean drawing herself into Drea’s life. She and Brad still hadn’t dealt with how that was supposed to work, and she wasn’t ready to be a step-mom. Step-girlfriend? Was that a thing?

“I could ask Archer.” Tori reached for her phone.

Brad seemed to consider it for a moment. “He makes that Japanese stuff, right? I appreciate the thought, but I don’t know how well that’ll go over with a bunch of fourth graders. Acquired taste and all that.”

“I’ll handle it.” Gwen couldn’t keep quiet anymore. She needed a way to fill her afternoon anyway. “I’ll make cupcakes, and I’ll meet you in front of the school, and hand them off. I don’t have to stick around or anything.”

“Why wouldn’t you stick around?” Tori asked.

No answer flew to Gwen’s mind. Why had she said that?

“She’s meeting with a wedding planner.” Brad’s response spilled out in a single word.

“Why are you, mister hands-on-with-everything hiring a wedding planner?”

“I’m not.” If Brad was flustered by the questions, he didn’t hesitate. The smooth answers were scary impressive. “A friend recommended her, and we’ve got to at least give it a try.”

Tori furrowed her brow as she studied him. “Since when do you do anything for show? Why didn’t you just tell her no?”

“Since when do you push back so hard?” Brad countered.

Tori stuck her tongue out. “Fine. I’ll drop it.”

The back and forth wasn’t as lighthearted as the previous one, and neither sibling smiled as big as before. Gwen sidestepped the awkwardness. “How many cupcakes does she need?”

“Four dozen. I can’t ask you to do that, though. I’ll call a bakery.”

“No.” Gwen shook her head. “I’ve got it, I promise. Text me her school address, and what time to meet you there, and I’ll take care of the rest, I promise. No arguments.”

Brad’s demeanor returned to pleasant. “Yes, Ma’am. And thank you.” He reached across the table and squeezed her fingers, and a pleasant rush flowed over her skin. It was a simple gesture, but so natural. She was definitely hooked on Brad.

****

When Brad’s weekend with the court-appointed observer rolled around, he and Gwen decided it would be better if they stayed at their own places the night before. The suggestion sank heavy in Gwen’s limbs, and she struggled to understand her reaction. They spent half their nights without each other, and she understood his reasoning, but the reminder this was one of the biggest parts of the show gnawed at her.

She had to have someone else watch the diner for her, something she’d never done on a Saturday before. This was important, though. She stopped by long enough to grab lunch, like she and Brad had discussed, and then headed to his condo. The carefully orchestrated plan had her arriving at his place by noon, and she pulled into his visitor parking spot right on time.

He greeted her at the door and gave her the most wooden peck on the cheek they’d ever exchanged. So much for looking natural. “Gwen, this is Ms. Miller. No first name, apparently.” His joke sounded light, but she heard the strain in his words.

The woman—probably only a few years older than Gwen—gave her a brief smile. “Pretend I’m not here.”

Right. Because that was an option.

“
Gwen
.” Drea’s excited shout cut through the molasses of tension. The girl skipped across the room, grabbed her hand, and pulled her inside. “Is that lunch? I’m hungry, and Dad said we couldn’t eat until you got here.”

Gwen set the bag of food on the table. “Yup. I even brought macaroni and cheese.”

“The cupcakes the other day were so good. Everyone said they were the best. Thank you for those. Did you make this yourself too?”

“Err… no. But my cook makes the best mac and cheese on the planet.”

Drea poked at the plastic bag and lifted a couple of the boxes. “There’s no milkshakes.”

“Those don’t travel well.” Brad nudged Drea toward the kitchen sink. “But there should be fries. Wash your hands, and we’ll eat.”

Gwen didn’t want to get sucked into the easy back-and-forth between father and daughter. She focused on keeping herself detached. Despite believing she wouldn’t be able to ignore Ms. Miller, as the afternoon ticked away, Gwen was draw into the fun. Playing Smash Brothers with Drea, getting her ass kicked worse than Jaycie had ever beaten her, and then introducing the girl to the Baby Sitters’ Club books. A text came in from Jaycie, and then another, but Gwen ignored them. They could wait.

When their not-so-invisible observer left that afternoon, Gwen was grinning and having a blast with Drea and Brad. They hadn’t discussed if Gwen would go home at the end of the day, but she didn’t see any reason to leave, and he wasn’t hinting at it either.

Night closed in, and it was Drea’s bedtime. Brad shooed her off with a kiss on the forehead. Drea stopped in front of Gwen, not doing a good job of hiding her yawn. “Will you be here tomorrow, too?”

Gwen almost choked on her
yes.
Partly because she didn’t know if she was welcome, but mostly because she realized she wanted to be. Damn it, she needed to step back from the situation. Brad wrapped an arm around her waist, and she started.

“She has to work,” he said. “But we’ll go see her and get milkshakes.”

“Score.” Drea did a fist pump, then trotted toward her bedroom.

Her door closed. Brad kissed up Gwen’s jaw to her ear and whispered, “I hope that was all right.”

She didn’t know if it was, but couldn’t put words to her reaction. “Of course.”

“Can you stay? I know you have to sneak out early, but…”

She should tell him no. If for no other reason than she needed her sleep. Instead, she heard herself say, “I’d love to.”

Brad’s phone rang, and he gave her an apologetic shrug. “Give me a minute. If it’s Emily, I should take it.”

“No problem.” She pulled out her own phone while he answered, and scrolled to the messages from Jaycie.

Were you hacked?

Gwen frowned at the first text and dread rushed in from nowhere. The next made it worse.

No, really. You need to check your site and pull it now
.

“What?” Brad’s irritation added to Gwen’s mounting concern. “Of course she didn’t… Don’t be ridiculous. She doesn’t do that… I have to go.”

He turned to Gwen, concern and something else smoldering in his dark eyes. “Did you write a blog post about us?”

Oh, fuck.
“Yes. But I never posted it. I deleted it.” Hadn’t she? She scrambled back through her memories, looking for the specific point where she deleted the draft from her site.

“Are you sure?” He scrolled through his phone, then paused. “One-hundred percent positive?”

“I’m not anymore.” She tried to laugh it off but fumbled with the words.

He held up the screen, and her familiar layout blinked back at her. The colors, the fonts, the headline she swore she got rid of.
Casual Sex. Not the Cure-All I Expected.
She knew how the rest went. The barely vague details of lying to his ex-wife about their engagement, the accusations that he’d set her up. All her frustrations from that morning after they met were spilled into that post, none of them true anymore, but almost all of them overwhelmingly incriminating.

“Shit.”

“You think?” He tossed the device on the couch, where it bounced without a sound. His face twisted into something she’d only seen once—in his office when she accused him of sabotaging her site—but this was far worse. “What did you do?”

Her insides twisted into an agonizing knot. “I don’t know.”