Fake (West Hollywood 1)

His smile was sheepish. “I’ve been better. The Advil helped, thanks.”

“Sure.”

One of his hands rested low on my back above the curve of my ass while the other rubbed at my bare arm, trying to warm me up. If I had to be stuck in a pool wearing high fashion, then at least I had decent company. Now that he wasn’t ignoring me.

“About last night,” he started, stopping to take a breath. “There’s something I need to tell you, just in case it comes up in the future.”

“Okay.”

“One of the dancers sat on my lap to take a selfie. I, ah . . . I moved her as soon as I realized. But I was pretty drunk. It took me a minute to figure out what was going on.”

“Right,” I said, keeping my voice quiet just in case.

“Are you mad?”

“About that? No.”

“But if that picture gets out it could embarrass you.”

“It would certainly undo our good work.”

He blinked. His wet eyelashes were so dark and long. “You should be mad at me.”

“Is that why you were avoiding me to the best of your abilities this morning?”

And there was that deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression again.

“You know, when you were evading all eye contact and grunting at me instead of talking half the damn time.”

“I wasn’t feeling the best,” he said, tone distinctly disgruntled. Like a spoiled child. “Maybe you could cut me some slack.”

“Try again, Paddy.”

He sighed. “Shit. I was doing that, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “You really were. It seems to be a habit with you when things aren’t going well. Which is disappointing, because I thought we were friends.”

He just looked at me.

“But at the end of the day, this is a business arrangement. You didn’t do anything that would constitute breaking the contract and I am just an employee. So I don’t really have the right to be angry at you.” Despite my fine words, I was kind of fucking furious. Just when I thought we had agreed to be friends he reverted to sullen and silent. I’d been doing my best to hide it and deny it, but oh well. These things were bound to come out in passive-aggressive rants now and then given I was only human. “Though I can’t help but notice that’s a thing for you, retreating back into your shell when something goes wrong. But yeah . . . you’re my boss and this is none of my business. I’m going to stop talking now.”

His forehead furrowed. “No, hang on.”

“What?” I said, tone sharper than I’d intended.

“We are friends. I fucked up. Be mad at me.”

“Would that make you feel better?” I asked, tipping my chin.

“I think so. Yes.”

My laughter sounded brittle to my own ears. “Fine. Whatever. Mostly I’m just pissed that you avoided me instead of talking to me about it. I thought we were past that.”

“I did upset you,” he said, like it was a revelation. Men could be such idiots.

“Yeah. I guess you did.”

His fingers moved against my skin all agitated like. As if he was worried I’d make a run for it. Or a swim. Then he made a low growling noise. “I’m sorry, Norah. You’re right, I shouldn’t have behaved that way this morning. Do you forgive me?”

Something in me eased at the words. “I suppose so.”

“Friends?” he asked.

“Yes.”

For a moment we were quiet, letting the pool water lap gentle waves at us in the wind. It was oddly peaceful.

“But you’re not worried about the girl sitting on my lap?” he asked, out of nowhere.

“Wait. Are you asking if I’m jealous?” I asked, keeping my voice low so we wouldn’t be overheard.

He froze. “No. No. Of course not.”

“I didn’t think so.” I wound my arms around his neck. To help with my balance in the water. No other reason. It was nice to know I wasn’t the only one who found this situation a little confusing now and then. Emotions were complicated things. But it was good and right that we were friends.

“Are you two finished fighting?” called out Mei from where she was working on her tablet perched on a sun lounge. “Because this is getting awkward.”

Sure enough, all eyes were on us. We had quite the audience, including the stylist, makeup and hair artists, and a collection of various assistants. Even the security guard seemed interested in our tiff.

“Time to kiss and make up,” said Mei.

“Guess it’s what a real couple would do,” he whispered, staring into my eyes in a disturbingly intense fashion. Just friends. But also a very good actor. Little wonder my heart got confused from time to time.

The photographer picked up his camera and started clicking.

“We better make it look good,” I whispered.

“Right.” He frowned. “How good, exactly?”

I gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. Surprise me. And stop frowning. What was it you said before? About kissing if the story needs it?”