Page 35 of Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

Kim raised an eyebrow. “What marriage proposal?”

I told them about George and the viral video, and both their eyes bulged.

“Iknewyou looked familiar when we first met.” Kim whistled. “Wow. You were almost engaged totheGeorge Fitzgerald?”

“You made the right choice,” Jenna said. “He’s rich and good-looking and all that, but he seems too uptight. Good on you for listening to your heart and saying no.”

“Hottie Building Expert is way sexier than George Fitzgerald anyway.” Kim frowned. “Although after hearing your story, maybe you should’ve said yes to George after all.”

I shook my head. “No, it was the right decision.”

“Having said that,” Kim continued, “A lot of things can change in ten years, and I could tell that Alec likes you now, because the man couldn’t take his eyes off you when I saw you two that morning. I’d probably be wary of him, too, if I were you, but there’s nothing wrong with keeping your options open and exploring new possibilities. He might be a completely different person today compared to ten years ago.”

I made a noncommittal grunt, not willing to admit that shemight beright.

“And, by the way, you were making moony eyes at him, too,” Jenna added. “Your chemistry could light up this whole city. Cliché, but true.”

“He’s just a friend now.” I wasn’t ready to tell anyone about our fake relationship agreement. “What happened between us is in the past. And I’ve got too many things on my plate to worry about unnecessary distractions.”

Both my friends gave me dubious looks, as if they weren’t convinced with my statement.

I couldn’t blame them, because neither was I.

CHAPTER 10Time to Put Your Fake Relationship to the Test

At five to six on Saturday night, I paced back and forth in my room, slowly losing my confidence to proceed with the farce. For the umpteenth time in the past fifteen minutes, I smoothed the hem of my black wrap dress, wondering if I could still cancel everything. Plotting a fake relationship inside a tiny Indonesian restaurant was one thing; actually having to act it out at a massively important event was an entirely different matter.

He lived up to his end of the bargain, a small voice reminded me.It’s your turn now.

Alec had his back facing me when I went downstairs. He must have heard my footsteps, because he turned around, blinking twice when he saw me.

“Hey,” I said, hoping to disguise my nerves by sounding casual. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” His eyes slowly traveled my length from head to toe, then back up again. “You look great.”

My cheeks turned warm from his gaze. “You clean up prettywell, too.” He was wearing a dark gray suit paired with a light-blue shirt, with just the right amount of scruff on his jaw, looking like he’d probably skipped shaving this morning.

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Glad you approve.”

Jacqui Goodwin’s home was in one of the most expensive areas of Port Benedict. Tall palm trees lined the street, and huge gated properties flanked it on both sides. The house was bathed in bright lights when we arrived, with the sounds of classical music filtering out of the windows, and rows of expensive European cars lining up at the front.

I whistled with appreciation. “Wow. Her house is incredible.”

“She doesn’t even live here.” Alec turned into an empty car spot. “This is her holiday house. One out of her many properties all over the country.”

Before I could unbuckle my seatbelt, he’d already gone around to my side of the car and opened my door. It was a silly thing, but coming from an Asian family, I’d never had men opening car doors for me. Of course I didn’t need anyone to—I was perfectly capable of opening my own door—but I found his gesture oddly endearing. He offered a hand to help me up, and I felt a tingle running down my spine as his warm hand gripped mine.

“It’s showtime, Ellie.”

I ignored the goosebumps erupting all over my body, chalking it up to nerves, because I was walking into a party hand-in-hand with a man I hadn’t even been friends with a week ago. Because a lot was riding on this for him, and I didn’t want to screw anything up.

Or was it because he was pressed so close to me, feeling and smelling incredible?

Taking a deep breath, I tried to refocus while pushing the thought of him out of my mind. And no, I wouldn’t screw anything up, because we’d gone through every plausible scenario in minute detail. We could recite each other’s quirks, likes and dislikes,even our SAT scores. I could even do it half asleep; that’s how perfect of a fake girlfriend I was. If there was a test on fake-girlfriendship, I’d score an A+, and probably even win multiple awards.

“Let’s find our host. I’ll introduce you, make some small talk, then we’ll leave.”

I nodded. “Good plan.”

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