Fake Out (Fake Boyfriend 1)

She bites her lip. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, I was kinda hoping …”

“I’m not dressing up as a dude and pretending to be your boyfriend.”

I laugh. “I was actually hoping you could convince your brother to do it.” I’ve never met him, but she does talk about him a lot.

Stacy purses her lips. “Damon’s always working or studying. It’s pretty sad. I don’t know if he’ll be able to take the weekend off.”

“He’s a sports agent, right?”

“Soon-to-be, yeah.”

I don’t want to play this card, but it’s all I’ve got. “What if I could get him a meeting with a high-profile hockey player in the NHL?”

Stacy’s brow furrows. “Who?”

There’s a reason I don’t tell anyone I’m related to Tommy Novak. I barely know the guy. He’s married to my sister, who I’ve never been close to, and family gatherings are few and far between. It feels wrong asking him for favors, but I’ll do it if it means Stacy’s brother will help me. “All I can say is he plays for Boston.”

“And you’re really going to go through with this charade if I get Damon to agree? Why can’t you tell the truth? Come out of the closet. But in reverse.”

“It’d be a big scandal if the town found out the truth, and that’s definitely not what Chastity needs right before her wedding.”

“So, you’re doing this for her? She’s your ex. Why do you care?”

I rub my neck. “She’s the only relationship I’ve ever had. I was a dick for lying to her, and I don’t want that to come out during her wedding to some other guy. I figured if I ever found a girl I got serious with—which I’ve always doubted I’d do anyway—that I’d tell everyone then. I’ll tell them eventually, but this weekend is not the time to do it.”

“Why don’t you just say you can’t make it?”

“Do I need to give you the guilt-tripping mom story again? And if I go home and say we broke up, she’ll force comfort food into me and make me stay a week to wallow. That’s the type of mom she is.”

Stacy searches in her bag and pulls out her phone. “I’m on it.”

“Really?”

“I’d love to say I’m doing this because I’m your friend, but honestly? The thought of you having to pretend to be gay for forty-eight hours entertains me immensely.”

Of course, it does.

CHAPTER TWO

DAMON

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I grumble as Stacy and I leave the subway. I tug down my ballcap—a nervous habit I’ve had since my pitching days. The coach always knew I was struggling on the mound when I fidgeted with my cap. “You’re the worst sister ever.”

“Hey, it’s not like you’re not getting anything out of this.”

“Yeah, well, this mysterious meeting with an NHL player better come through. How do you even know this Maddox guy is telling the truth about it?”

“He doesn’t lie to me.”

“That you know of.”

My bosses at OnTrack Sports want to promote me from paid-intern-slash-assistant to agent as soon as I finish my law degree, but I need to show them I can bring in my own clients. I’m desperate enough to spend a weekend pretending to be someone’s boyfriend to get that chance.

Maybe my family has a right to call me a workaholic.

“I promise it’ll happen,” my sister says. “Besides, you’re going to love Maddox.”

“I’m sure I’ll love the straight guy who’s pretending to be gay because he’s a womanizing asshole with no balls to tell everyone the truth.”

She slaps my chest. “See, you already know him.”

The closer we get to Maddox’s apartment, the more uneasy I become. “Seriously, Stace. I’m starting to wonder if this is worth the possible client.”

“Two nights. He gets his ex-girlfriend and mother off his back, you get a new client, and I get hours of entertainment on Monday when Maddox fills me in. It’s a win-win-win.”

I really need to build my client list. Right now, it’s sitting at an unimpressive zero.

As soon as we reach the lobby of Maddox’s apartment, we’re approached by none other than a guy in boy shorts, leather straps crossed over his naked chest and wearing angel wings on his back.

“What the fu—”

“Hey, you must be Richard,” my sister says.

The guy tips his head, and cash exchanges hands.

“Stacy, what did you do?” I ask.

“It’s all part of my fun.”

“Your sister is evil,” Richard says.

“Whatever she’s paying you, it’s not enough.”

We follow Stacy into the elevators and head up to the ninth floor.

“How does a low-level marketing guy afford an apartment in this building?” I ask. Stacy lives in a shit-box. So do I, come to think of it.

“It’s a studio, and he rents it from one of his frat buddies who owns it.” Stacy holds her arm across me to stop me from walking down the hall. “Richard first.”