Page 14 of Maybe We Can Fake It

I gesture toward the door to head inside, and he steps through, mumbling, “Freaking spring.”

Making my way back to the inn’s kitchen, I mentally prepare myself to do whatever Brenden asks of me. As if I don’t already. Faking being his boyfriend may be in a wildly different league than helping out here or shoveling his driveway for him, but oh well.

Between his minor meltdown and his slightly red nose from the allergies, he was looking so miserable it made me want to wrap him up in a blanket and keep him protected at all costs.

I swear I don’t have a savior complex or anything. For the most part, I keep my head down and worry about myself. If you let yourself get involved in other people’s problems in this town, it could never end. But for some reason, I can’t resist when it comes to Brenden.

If I stopped long enough to analyze it, I might have to admit my feelings for him go a lot deeper than friendship. Not that I’ve been pining for him all this time. Or if I have, it’s only in the way you might pine after something that you know deep down couldn’t be meant for you.

Brenden is all light and joy and openness, while I’m... closed off, hiding in the shadows with a hint of bitterness.

Addison huffs when I enter the kitchen, not bothering to hide her annoyance. The fact that I’m not an employee and am only here as a favor doesn’t seem to matter.

I can’t figure her out. She seems like she could be really cool. Or maybewasreally cool, in another life. But she’s guarded, always a little on edge, moves through the day like she’s not sure how she found herself here.

Considering that’s pretty much how I livemylife, I should probably be able to understand her better.

She snaps some instructions at me, and I only cut her slack because I know she’s under a lot of stress with this corporate thing coming up. I’d be stressed too if I had to cater to a huge group of corporate tools. I worked a corporate job—I know how those people can be.

But when she asks me to crush the strawberries so she can make a batch of muffins large enough for the retreat in a couple days, I can’t help but reiterate my cherry-apricot suggestion that she ignored the first time.

“You remember I’m the head chef, right?” she says, ponytail swinging lightly as she turns to glare at me. “I think I know what I’m doing.”

“Not saying you don’t,” I tell her. And then—although I don’t know what makes me do it—I brag, “But Brenden liked my muffin better.”

The way I metaphorically puff up my chest is immature, and really, why do I even care? This is her kitchen and her event to plan for. I have no real stake here. Except, secretly, I can’t help but be proud about Brenden’s intense praise for my baking skills.

And I can’t help remembering the obscene noise he made. If I can get him to sound like that just with food, I wonder what noises I could have him making in another context...

Nope.I abruptly cut off that train of thought before it can get rolling.

“No way am I just going to take your word for it,” Addison says.

What are we talking about?

Muffins. Right.

I’m about to drop it and let her go on thinking her unoriginal muffin choice is superior, but then Brenden chooses that moment to come strolling into the kitchen, looking much peppier than he did earlier. He heads right for the coffee machine and starts to pour himself a cup. Mid-pour, he glances up, notices me and Addison both staring at him, and freezes.

“Uh...” He shoots us a concerned look.

And since I’ve apparently turned into a gorilla, I literally puff up my chest this time as I say, “She doesn’t believe you liked my muffin better. Will you tell her?”

“Oh,well, I...” His panicked eyes dart between me and Addison.

I immediately feel like a jerk for putting him in an awkward position. Who I am to him, really? We’re friends, sure. But Brenden has a hundred friends. Addison, on the other hand, is arguably the most important person to his business, after himself. He shouldn’t piss her off.

Before I can find a way to take my words back, though, he starts babbling.

“I didn’t say I liked it better! I may have said, ‘Damn, that’s orgasmic.’” He turns quickly to Addison. “But yours was orgasmic too! Plenty of orgasms to be had here! Oh god, shut up, shut up, shut up.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Are you aware we can still hear you?”

“Of course, I am! Only a crazy person would talk out loud to themselves and forget that people can hear them!” Face red, he spins on his heels and rushes out of the kitchen, half-full coffee cup in hand. “Anyway, gotta go! Lots of important things to do, running an inn and all that, ya know.”

Right as he makes it to the doorway, Addison calls out, “Wait! You need to pick which muffin we should bake for the retreat!”

Backing up, he uses his ass to nudge the swinging door and says, “Why don’t you go with both? They’re both delicious. Both of your muffins bring all the boys to the yard! Bye!”

---