Dirty Laundry (Get Dirty 2)

She smiles back, and if this girl starts flirting any more openly, I’m going to know right where to stuff my first handful of pancakes. “Nope, can’t say that I have.”

Keith nods, adjusting his glasses. “Good band. You should look them up.”

Seemingly appeased, she heads off to check on our pancakes. I’m grinning behind my coffee cup, damn proud of myself for not laughing and blowing Keith’s cover.

“Have you even heard a single song by Highly Suspect or did you say the first rock band I mentioned in a desperate attempt to distract her?” I ask. “And by the way, she was flirting with you.”

“Maybe both,” Keith admits with a chuckle. “The distraction worked, but I gave them a listen after you mentioned them. They do have a good sound. And even if she was flirting . . . I’m taken.”

I smile, my heart melting at the simple statement. “You surprise me, Adam. Just when I think you’re a gruff asshole, you’re sweet too. Keep it up.”

We’re halfway through our stacks of pancakes when I see someone I never expected to see working her way through the tables. Her eyes cut my way and lock, the surprise obvious on her face even if her eyebrows don’t move because of all the Botox. She turns, bee-lining straight for us. “Shit. Incoming.”

Before Keith can even question me, Francesca stops by our table, all airs and elegance. “Elise, darling! What a surprise to see you! Out for a bite of brunch? They do have the best mimosas here.” She says it like she’s sharing national secrets, whispering slightly and gesturing to my non-champagne orange juice like we’re besties.

I force a smile, knowing it’s fake, but Francesca can’t tell the difference anyway. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve given her so many dishonest smiles or if she just doesn’t care. Not bothering to correct her assumption about my juice, I tell her neutrally, “Good to see you too.”

Francesca dips her chin demurely, her eyes zeroing on Keith. “Ooh, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

She knows who Keith is, I’m certain of it. Hell, Donnie and she have probably had some gross form of pillow talk about my article series, but she’s playing coy. Fuck that.

“Of course. Francesca, this is Keith. Keith, this is a coworker of mine, Francesca. She works with red carpets, galas, award ceremonies, that type of thing mostly.”

Keith is polite as he shakes her hand, and I can see on her face that she’s thinking he’ll be impressed by what I said and by her good looks.

But what Frannie doesn’t know is that Keith knows about her too, and her hopes are quickly dashed. “Oh, yeah, those are all events I mostly avoid like the plague if I can help it. The vampires and vultures are out in force there.”

I smile, keeping my giggles inside, as Francesca seems a bit miffed at his dislike of her favorite arenas to see and be seen. “Well, yes . . . I’m sure they’re not for everyone. So, Elise,” she says, directing her focus on me. “How’re the interviews going?”

“Oh, great,” I reply, jittery until I feel Keith’s foot touch mine under the table. Keep it together, girl. “Keith was showing me some of his hobbies, like hiking and archery. A bit of outdoorsy stuff for the next article.”

Francesca sniffs, literally sniffs like she’s smelled something distasteful. “Outdoorsy? Sounds . . . interesting.” Her tone says she obviously finds it anything but interesting.

Keith interjects, saving me. “Elise was a natural out there. I’m sure some reporters wouldn’t be willing to get dirty . . . hiking, riding an ATV, shooting a few arrows. But she jumped right in. Anything for a story, right?” He says it with a true smile, but I can see by the flint in his eyes that he remembers what I’d told him about Francesca.

“Oh,” Francesca replies, giving me a worried look like everyone doesn’t already know how she gets her assignments. “Uhm, well . . . sounds like you’ve got some good scoop, so I’ll let you two finish brunch. I’m off for a hair appointment. See you Monday.”

After Francesca leaves, I freak a bit, gasping. “God, do you think she suspected anything?” I whisper, trying and failing at not looking guilty. “I’m pretty sure we were just eating when she came up, nothing suspicious. Right?”

Keith smiles, patting my hand. “I think we’re fine, nothing sketchy. Am I your dirty little secret now?”

He’s teasing, but there’s a hint of truth to it, and a bit of hurt too. I try to corral my thoughts. “Honestly, there’s a piece of me that wouldn’t mind shouting from the rooftops. But that wouldn’t be great for either of us right now. Professionally, it’d be career suicide for me, and you would have those vultures flocking around so fast your head would spin. And that’s dangerous . . . for Carsen. Neither of us can afford for suspicions about a flirty breakfast to get out.”