The F-Word

I am fast, but she’s picked up the pace. She’s all but running and now I am too—and, of course, people are craning their necks to watch the show.

Violet and Chester loom up in front of me.

“Everything okay?” Violet purrs. “Oh, and by the way, you two put on a great act.”

In an instant it all comes together. Bailey was right. Violet did deliberately tell people we’re engaged. Then all she had to do was wait for the hammer to fall.

Bailey’s not going to get even with her cousin, she’s going to be humiliated.

I have never hit a woman in my life. Never even imagined wanting to. Right now, it takes all that’s in me not to nail Vicious Violet right on the chin.

Instead, I look at Chester. The expression on his face is pretty much a synonym for confused.

“It’s not too late,” I tell him. “Do yourself a favor and walk away before it gets worse.”

Then I take off and barrel through the place until I’m out the front door.

At first I don’t see Bailey.

Then I do.

It’s raining again and she’s standing right out in it, except this isn’t simply rain, it’s a deluge. She’s already soaked. One of the parking attendants runs up with an umbrella, but she waves him off.

“All I need is a taxi,” I hear her say.

“She doesn’t need a taxi,” I tell the kid. I hand him my parking stub and a fifty. “The red Corvette,” I snap. “And make it fast.” Then I whip off my tux jacket and wrap it around Bailey. She tries to shove it away, but I won’t let her. I hang onto her until the kid pulls up in my car. He gets out, comes around to the passenger side and opens the door. Bailey doesn’t move and I grab her and damn near stuff her into the seat. Then I slam the door, run around to the driver’s side and get behind the wheel.

We pull out of the driveway and onto the road.

“What kind of stunt was that?” I demand. “You want to get pneumonia?”

“What you mean is, did I want to spoil the act?”

I take my eyes off the rain-slicked road long enough to glare at her.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

She lifts her chin and folds her arms over her chest. “At least you’re not trying to deny it.”

“Deny what?” I say, if only to give myself time to think because I know damn well what she’s talking about.

“Are you sure you were a finance major? Because you missed your calling, Mr. O’Malley. You should have gone on the stage.”

Jesus!

“Bailey. That’s not fair.”

“You’re right. It’s not. I was the one who started this.”

“You didn’t start anything. I offered to come with you this weekend, remember?”

“You offered to pretend to be my boyfriend, but only because you heard me tell my mother a lie about having a boyfriend in the first place.”

“Let’s not play Who Said What When, okay?” I shoot another look at her. Shit. She’s shaking. I reach out and turn on the heat. “Pull the jacket around you.”

“Don’t give me orders.”

“I’m not giving you orders. I’m trying to keep you from getting sick. Pull the fucking jacket around you.”