Page 47 of The Purest Fake

“Yeah, that’s true. But I don’t think I could handle someone publicly calling me out like that. I’d tell them to fuck off.”

“Then it’s good you don’t play a sport,” I reply, laughing.

“Pfft. I’m not coordinated enough to be an athlete.”

“I don’t know about that. I’ve seen your cornhole skills,” I say, reminding her of a cookout at Rogan’s house where she and Autumn decimated Rogan and me at that game.

She laughs. “Was that the first time you and I met?”

“It was, and you still didn’t go easy on me.”

“Hey, all’s fair in love and cornhole.”

I grin. “I’ll have to remember that the next time we play.”

She rubs her hands together. “Maybe we can finagle an invite over to Rogan’s and have a rematch.”

“I’m ready when you are.”

We stay silent for the remainder of the ride, enjoying the comfortable familiarity we’ve felt from the moment we met. Even dressed up in our fancy clothes, the mood remains relaxed.

Before long, we’re pulling up to the luxurious hotel hosting the gala. I hand the keys to the valet and then go around to open Scarlett’s door. As she steps out, smoothing down her dress, I’m once again struck by how stunning she looks. I offer my hand and she takes hold, sealing our palms together.

“Ready?” I ask as we approach the entrance.

“As much as I’ll ever be,” she replies, giggling nervously.

We step inside the lobby and follow the signs to the ballroom. Outside the door is a seating chart. After locating my name and our seat assignments, we pause in the hallway, taking in the sights and sounds of the gala. Crystal chandeliers sparkleoverhead, casting a warm glow over the elegantly dressed crowd. Soft classical music drifts through the air from a string quartet in the corner.

“Let’s do this,” I say. Scarlett’s grip tightens on my hand as we enter the ballroom. I give a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “We’ve got this, Scar.”

She pulls her shoulders back and pastes a smile on her red-painted lips. “Of course we do.”

CHAPTER 13

SCARLETT

As we enter the ballroom, I’m momentarily overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all. The crystal chandeliers seem to make everything sparkle. Elegant flower arrangements overflowing with white and yellow roses adorn each table, and the sound of clinking glasses and soft chatter fills the air.

Cooper’s hand is warm and steady in mine, grounding me. I take a deep breath, reminding myself I can do this. I’ve been to events like this before, even if it’s been a while.

He nods toward a nearby table. “That’s ours.”

Seeing Rogan and Autumn already there is a huge comfort to me. We make our way over to them. Autumn’s eyes light up when she sees us.

“Scar, you look amazing,” she gushes, standing to give me a hug.

“Thanks. So do you.” She’s wearing an emerald-green dress that highlights her curves and matches her eyes. In my periphery I see Cooper and Rogan sharing one of those hand-clasp bro hugs men so often do.

“Hey, Scarlett, looking good,” Rogan says, giving me a thumbs up.

“Thank you. You’re looking good too, but not as good as your sinfully hot girlfriend,” I say, smiling with Autumn tittering next to me.

“That goes without saying. She’s the sexiest woman here,” Rogan says.

I nod. “She is, and don’t you ever forget it.” I poke him in the chest.

“Ouch,” he grumbles, rubbing his left pec. “What did I do to deserve that?”

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