Page 24 of Maybe We Can Fake It

“I actually need to be there for the dinner rush tonight,” Travis informs me. “I don’t have any coverage, but Addison said she’ll be fine here once all the prep work is done.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Does that mean we won’t get to see you tonight to meet you properly?” Elise asks Travis.

“Oh, I—” His gaze shoots to me, looking for the right answer. But damned if I know it.

“Whenever you’re finished at work is fine,” Elise goes on. “I’m sure we’ll all be up late catching up.”

When I give Travis another nod—because we might as well get this circus act started—he agrees he’ll stop by after the rush is over. “It shouldn’t be too late. I can probably sneak out by eight.”

“Excellent!” The gleam in Elise’s eyes is mildly frightening. “I can’t wait to get to know you.”

Travis ducks his head shyly—which isnota characteristic I usually associate with him. “There’s not much to know.”

“Nonsense. If you’re a part of Brenden and my granddaughter’s lives, I need to know all about you.”

At Travis’s clearly panicked look, I jump in. “You will. But why don’t we let him get back to the kitchen now, and we can head over to the house.”

Elise and Grant agree, and I grab Travis the key to the linen closet before I go. As I’m telling him I’ll see him later, I senseboth of them watching us, so I graze my fingers over the back of his hand in what I hope comes off as a familiar gesture.

The zap of electricity that shoots through my fingers and up my arm at the contact is definitely new though. Somehow I manage to play it cool as a cucumber, but Travis, not quite so much. And I can’t tell if his expression this time is because he’s worried about the touching in public, or if it’s something else. Did he feel the electricity too?

“I’ve got to...” he starts, scratching at his facial hair. “Dessert. Kitchen.”

“Right,” I say, letting him go.

Tonight will be interesting.

CHAPTER SIX

TRAVIS

Tonightisgoingtobe a disaster. What were we thinking? We can’t pull this off. Not with the way I almost lost it at the slightest physical contact from Brenden earlier. I wasn’t even thinking about the fact that we were at the inn and someone from town could’ve seen us. All I could think was...

Woah.

I already knew his touch did things to me that it shouldn’t. But for years, I’ve been able to ignore the effect he has on me, because I know he’s only ever meant his touches to be friendly. Patting my back as a thank you, gripping my arm when he’s excited, occasionally poking at the corner of my mouth when I’m frowning too hard—those things I can handle. One graze of a fingertip, though, and it felt like my insides melted.

My brain knows the intimate touch was only him pretending we’re together. But now I need to pretend too, and I hope my dick and heart also get the memo that that’s all it is.Pretend.

Stepping onto Brenden’s porch, I hesitate before knocking. Maybe May’s grandparents expect me to have a key. But that’s irrelevant anyway, because I’m sure Brenden left the doorunlocked like always. Should I go right in as if I’m here all the time? Can’t hurt, I guess.

Okay, it’s showtime. Turn on boyfriend mode.

My boyfriend mode is pretty rusty, considering I haven’t been anyone’s boyfriend in over a decade, but I can do this. For Brenden.

I reach for the doorknob, and my assumption about it being unlocked is proven correct. As soon as I step inside the house, though, Brenden comes flying over and grabs my wrist in a surprisingly strong grip, making me question if I did the right thing.

“Please save me,” he hisses dramatically in my ear.

“What?”

“They’re already unhappy with me because they don’t like my tea selection.”

I cock my head at him. “You drink tea?”

“No, of course not!” he whispers-yells, as if I’ve offended his love for coffee. “But I know they do, so I bought a box for them, and apparently my choice is like a sacrilege or something. They went on about how if they drink caffeinated tea in the evening, they won’t be able to sleep, and yadda yadda.” His grip on me tightens as he continues to rant in a hushed voice. “You’d think they were British for how much it matters to them. I thought all tea was the same!”

---