Fake Engagement, Real Temptation

“Oh, the man will be green with envy.”

He held out his arm in offering and she took it. The sand swished beneath them, crushing together as they walked up to the table where Wendy and Kevin sat. A bottle of wine was in the middle of the table. Already open.

Alcohol might help get through this. But whatever Carrie decided, Blake was on point tonight. He wouldn’t let her hurt.

“Hey, bro,” Kevin said as Blake pulled out the chair for Carrie. What he would give to smack that fucker in the face.

But he’d be good for Carrie. Only for Carrie. Otherwise that bro’s face would be on the other side of his fist right now. Didn’t mean he had to overly engage with the prick.

He just nodded and took his seat next to Carrie.

“Cool shirt, man. Not much for switching it up, huh?” Kevin said, motioning his overly bejeweled fingers at Blake.

“I could say the same about you,” Blake said, taking in yet another Hawaiian shirt. Unbuttoned. And all kinds of jewelry hanging around his neck. The man didn’t look like he showered. Blake wondered how long he’d last on one of his tours. Maybe twenty minutes. Less if Blake left his ass to the elements.

He smiled, thinking of a moose charging the bedazzled little fuck.

“What are you smiling about?” Carrie asked shyly.

He squeezed her knee under the table. “Happy thoughts, little girl. Only happy thoughts.”

She smiled back.

“So how did you two meet?” Kevin asked.

Carrie grabbed the bottle of wine by its neck and poured herself a heaping glass. She offered some to Blake, but he declined. She obviously needed a drink, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d keep her safe, though.

“We met when we were young. Grew up together,” Blake said.

“And it looks like you did grow up,” Wendy said in a breathy, flirty voice. Blake recognized her game. And he wasn’t interested.

“What do you do?” Kevin snapped, picking up on his girlfriend flirting with Blake.

Carrie was gulping her wine. When the waiter came around, she ordered another bottle and Blake took the liberty of getting her some pasta. She’d loved noodles of any kind when they were young, and he took a shot that she still did. Judging by the smile she gave him, he got it right.

“I own an outfitter in northern Colorado. Track, hunt, fish, guide. Things like that.”

“You’re being modest,” Carrie chimed in. “He’s the best. He takes all kinds of people out to major hunting parties and has endless adventures. He goes all around the world.”

“Wow, bro, sounds intense,” Kevin said, running his fingers along his jaw. Which was growing a sad excuse for a beard. “My work is pretty intense, too. There’s always so much drama and pressure to get the art out, but the expression of each piece is so illuminating that I have gotten pains in my head just from the beauty the canvas produces.”

Blake frowned, and Carrie gave a short laugh into her glass of wine. Jesus, was this the kind of shit this guy always talked about?

Kevin clearly didn’t like that he wasn’t getting fawned on, and Blake didn’t give a Hawaiian rat’s ass.

“Wendy here was there when I sold my last work. Most expensive yet,” Kevin said, staring pointedly at Carrie. She didn’t meet his eyes. Blake wished she would. The prick was pushing her buttons. Bringing up the mistress, the gallery where he sold—Carrie’s turf—and how successful he was without her. And that shit was going to stop.

Carrie glanced at Wendy and nodded. “So you work in the Denver area?” she asked.

This was the most painful conversation Blake had ever been a part of. Poor Carrie, trying to make small talk with her ex and his mistress.

“I shoot downtown sometimes. When I’m not traveling. Kevin here begged me to come to this little retreat, so…” Wendy shrugged. “It worked out.”

“I’m sorry, you shoot?” Carrie asked. “Like…guns or…”

Kevin laughed. “A photo shoot,” he said in the most dickish tone Blake had ever heard a man use. “She’s a model. A famous one. Almost as famous as me.” Kevin winked at Wendy, but she didn’t seem amused. Blake wasn’t, either.

Carrie took another drink.