Page 10 of Fake It Til You Break It

When I finished, I reread it twice. Deleted it. Typed it again. Read it three more times. Added another sentence. Finally, with a shaking hand, I sent the message before I could talk myself out of it.

JASPER:Are you busy tomorrow night? I was invited to a book signing, and I’d rather not show up alone. I know this kind of thing isn’t part of our contract, so no pressure.

His response came almost immediately.

BECKETT:Yes.

Yes? Yes, what? Yes, he was busy? Yes, he would go? Though I had no reason to criticize his verbal communication skills, we really needed to work on his texting etiquette.

Before I could figure out a response, another text popped up on my screen.

BECKETT:Send me the details.

What did that mean? Was it acceptance? Was he annoyed? Was he still trying to decide if he wanted to go? Why was he making this so difficult?

JASPER:Indie bookstore downtown called Page Turner. 7:00 pm. Casual dress.

I waited, holding my breath as I stared at the screen, but nothing happened. No new messages. No little bouncing bubbles to indicate he was typing.

Realizing I was gripping my phone like a high schooler waiting for a response from my first crush, I shook my head and closed out the app. It occurred to me that I could text him again and ask for clarification, but I didn’t want to be a nuisance. Or worse, make him feel pressured into accepting my invitation.

With a quiet groan, I pushed out of my chair and began my nightly routine, starting with checking the locks and security system. I spent a few minutes straightening the living room and turning out the lights before heading to the kitchen to set the timer on the coffeemaker.

I had just made it down the hallway to my bedroom when my phone buzzed with an incoming call. An uncomfortable mixture of relief and concern filled me when I saw Beckett’s name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sorry about that,”he said, and he sounded a bit breathless.“I was in the middle of class.”

I glanced at the alarm clock on my bedside table with a frown. It was already after ten. “You have class this late?”

His warm laughter drifted over the line, and I could practically picture that cocky smirk of his.

“The gym down the street offers self-defense lessons. I teach the late class. Mostly single moms and college students.”

My lips parted, but no sound escaped since I had no idea how to respond to that information. The news itself didn’t surprise me. With his background in security, it made sense. At the same time, I felt a pang of guilt bubble inside me when I realized how little I knew about him.

“So, this book signing?”he continued, saving me the need to form coherent thoughts.“I know the place. It’s not far from my apartment. Do you want to meet there?”

I exhaled quietly, and the muscles in my shoulders slowly unknotted. “I could pick you up?”

A lilt in my voice made the offer sound more like a question, but in a way, I supposed that was appropriate. He might not want to arrive at the bookstore with me.

“Page Turner is only a couple of blocks from me. Why don’t you park here, and we can walk?”

My entire being melted with relief. I had planned to drive myself, but downtown traffic could be borderline traumatic, and trying to find parking was nearly impossible, especially on the weekends.

“Thank you.”

Beckett chuckled again, the sound warm and indulgent.“I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Jasper.”

A shiver rippled through me when he said my name, his tone quiet and confident, his voice wrapping around me like a caress. I gripped the phone tighter and cleared my throat.

“Goodnight, Mr. Shaw.”

It might have been my imagination, but I thought I heard another soft laugh drift over the line before the call disconnected.

I sighed and shook my head. Beckett Shaw was a flirt and a tease. He enjoyed burrowing under my skin, liked prodding my weak spots until he received a reaction, but it didn’t mean anything. We had an arrangement. Nothing more.

---