Page 74 of The Fiancée Farce
Tansy, who defended her fervently without a thought, even knowing what she knew: that Gemma was not without her faults.
Holy fuck.
GemmalikedTansy. Well, no shit.Obviously, she liked Tansy. Gemma might have her faults, but her taste certainly wasn’t among them. Tansy was kind and clever and ambitious without being ruthless. Not to mention so gorgeous she made Gemma forget sense, commonandotherwise. She made Gemma a little stupid, to be true, exposing vulnerabilities Gemma knew she had and those she hadn’t a fucking clue about. Knowing what she did,feelingwhat she did... Tansy Adams should’ve sent her running for the fucking hills, and yet Gemma couldn’t seem to stay away.
This went beyond mere appreciation for Tansy’s finer—and holy goddamn hell were they fine—attributes and crossed into uncharted territory. Territory as terrifying as it was exhilarating.As frightening as it was awesome. Territory Gemma had never been tempted to explore.
Until now.
Until Tansy.
This... this was serious fucking business.
“Gemma? I didn’t lose you, did I?”
No, no. Gemma was just having a small epiphany. Or aneurysm. One of the two.
“Like I said. We’re partners.”
In conspiracy, in business, in—if she had anything to say about it—everything.
“You’re no fun.” Brooks rolled his eyes. “But fine. As long as you and Tansy are on the same page, I suppose that’s all that matters.” He paused. “Youareon the same page, aren’t you?”
It was right in front of her face and yet somehow she was just now seeing it. Realizing there was another option, that it wasn’t just either-or, a choice between being fiancées with benefits or fake fiancées. Gemma was used to living in shades of gray; it was amazing she was thinking sosmall, soinside the boxwhere it counted most.
“Of course we are.” Lie. But not for long, hopefully. “Now, not that this impromptu visit wasn’t lovely, but if you don’t mind”—Gemma stood—“I’ve got work to do.”
Namely, she had a fiancée to woo.
Chapter Thirteen
Gemma frowned at the bulging box in her hands. It was still warm, with cinnamon sweetness wafting from the cracked lid, the box too full to stay shut. Pastries weren’t much of a gesture, even if she’d braved the market to procure them from her favorite shop, hoping they might serve as a—God, fuck if she knew.
She’d never wooed anyone before, never even tried. She’d never feltcompelledto woo anyone before, to put in the effort.
Not until she met Tansy.
Now she was all in knots and—pastrieswerestupid. Delicious, but insufficient emotional currency. She’d never asked Brooks for advice—except for that time when her passport was stolen in Monaco and her French wasn’t doing the trick and he was the only person she knew who spoke Monégasque—but she’d also never done this before, wooing someone. Maybe she should’ve taken Brooks’s advice and bought Tansy a boat. Except it wasn’t like Tansy would live on the boat like Brooks lived on his—albeit, his was closer to being a yacht than a houseboat—but a boat saidsomething.
What did pastries say?
Probably that she should pony the fuck up and go inside if she was asking herself that question.
Gemma sucked in a ragged breath and yanked on the door, the smell of wood varnish and paper tickling her nose as soon as she stepped over the threshold. A bell chimed over her head.
“Welcome to Belltown Books!” Tansy’s voice came from the direction of the front desk, somewhere behind the register. “Oof.”
Gemma frowned and stepped closer, craning her neck over the counter. Tansy was on her hands and knees, surrounded by a tangled spool of receipt paper. A chunk of hair had escaped her fishtail braid, several strands curling around her ears. Gemma’s heart beat faster.
“Can I—ow.” Tansy scowled down at her finger before popping it into her mouth.
Gemma winced. “Paper cut?”
Tansy froze, save for her eyes, which snapped up. Her jaw fell slack, finger dragging down her plump bottom lip. “Gemma.Hi. What are you doing here?”
Her name had never sounded sweeter than it did when Tansy said it. Whispered, shouted—she didn’t care, as long as it was her name on Tansy’s lips. Though she was pretty sure she liked it best this way, breathy, excited, like Tansy was genuinely happy to see her.
“Hi.” Gemma thrust the box of pastries at Tansy, needing to get this confession off her chest so maybe what was happeninginsideher chest could revert to normal. Approaching normal. Gemma had a feeling she’d never be quite the same. Not after Tansy. “These are for you.”
