Page 20 of Act Like You Don't Care
Ilaid down in the back seat as soon as my new 'boyfriend' opened the door. I needed some time to think, assuming I could keep my eyes open long enough. That kiss...
Well, I hadn't been expecting that...that—connection. I’d picked the guy because he’d been the only one in the group that seemed to listen to my concerns. He was also the one with the nerdiest hobbies, which I hoped meant that he wouldn't be as likely to play the alpha with me. I still owed him an apology and probably some thanks for coming up with this idea—for an alpha, he seemed to have put a lot more thought into what I wanted than what would make his job easier. Maybe that was customer service, but I kind of doubted it.
I sort of wished I’d met him under different circumstances. Because I’d been dead wrong when I’d assumed he was the guy least likely to set my omega hormones in a fit. Quietly handsome, and he moved in a way that told me he hadn’t been slacking off at the gym. His body had felt good against mine when I’d kissed him.Thatwas going to be a problem and I reminded myself I needed to keep my mind on the goal, which was tonotlet this crazy letter-writing fiend anywhere near me. Right now was not the time to start mooning over some alpha, let alone thinking about the possibilities of a real relationship. After all, how long did relationships in Hollywood last? Yeah, if one partner wasn't working in show business, maybe it had a chance, but there'd never been a successful omega star who didn't have four or five marriages under their belt. Better to stay single.
But that kiss...
Shit.
I didn't remember going to sleep, but I must have because the next thing I knew was Miles shaking me awake. "We're there."
"There?" I asked groggily and pushed myself upright. "Oh, home."
"There's a code for the parking garage?"
"Yeah, hang on." I pushed a hand through my hair and shuffled across the seat. "I'll go put it in."
“I’m going to need that too.”
Fuck. “Fine. Six, four, seven, nine, nine, zero.” I closed my eyes again, then snapped them open when my head started to nod.
Miles nodded and punched in the code and we sat in silence as the door rolled up.
I want to touch him."Forty-two B," I said, naming one of the parking spots that had come with the condo. Miles nodded, so sure of himself it made me weak in ways I couldn’t afford, and drove in under the building.
If I don't watch myself, I'm going to be following him around like a puppy.As soon as the engine died, I jumped out of the SUV and waited somewhat impatiently for Miles to follow. I needed to keep some sort of wall between us, for my own sake.
He came around the end of the car, tall and dark and comfortable-looking. His hand in the small of my back made my knees go to rubber. It would be too easy to forget that this was all fake, to let myself relax and depend on someone. I’d learned my lesson about that once—never again. I had to remember that. I had tomakemyself remember that.
I pointed him toward the elevator door. “Code," I said and showed him the sequence of numbers and letters. We waited a moment in silence while I sorted through my emotions. I was far too aware of the alpha beside me. Miles didn't seem to be bothered by me at all, which was a thorn in my ego, but probably for the best.
And then, thankfully, the elevator doors opened and then—shit—I was trapped in a tiny space that filled rapidly with the attractive scent of healthy alpha. I closed my eyes and ran my lines for tomorrow through my head until the doors opened again at my floor.
It was a small building, only two condos per floor. I’d really liked that about it.
God, the tabloids were going to shit themselves over this.
Miles let the way out of the elevator, and we walked together toward the front of the building. I showed Miles the code to the condo door, a shiver running over my skin at the unexpected intimacy of it. I never brought anyone home with me. My home was mine, just for me. It was a space where I didn’t have to be any of the different Tams the world expected. I hadn’t considered this when I’d agreed to this scheme.
For one frozen moment, I desperately wanted to back out. I opened my mouth to say the words, to take back my agreement, but nothing came out. Miles pushed me gently to one side of the now open door and told me to stay there with no more than a look. He pulled out a gun I hadn’t noticed earlier, which scared me more than anything else that had happened so far. It just…made it all real.
He was expecting to have to shoot someone for me.
And then he stepped through the door, his whole body on alert for, I guessed, any sign the letter-writer had somehow gotten into my home. My stomach began to churn with anxiety and I had to practice my breathing exercises to keep from throwing up right there in the hallway. I was committed, my condo no longer mine alone, and my fake alpha boyfriend was already inside. If I wanted out, my only option now was to run away, which also wasn’t acceptable.
It felt like forever before Miles came back, gun no longer in his hand, and told me I could come in. I was tempted to kiss him again—the adrenaline in my veins made all sorts of bad ideas sound good. I wanted to fuck, to crush the fear with other equally strong feelings until I couldn’t feel it anymore.
Really bad idea. Even worse than the kissing.
Instead, I closed the door and set the alarm, then went straight to the kitchen where Josefina, my housekeeper-slash-cook-slash-adopted aunt, had left something that smelled like mole simmering away in the slow cooker. I lifted the cover off and breathed in the scent of the rich spicy sauce. "Want something to eat?” I asked in my most casual tone. Yep, she'd left tortillas in the oven. I turned it on low to warm them up, then pulled out two plates without waiting for Miles's answer.
"I didn't know you cooked," Miles said, putting a casual hand on my waist.Already in character. How lovely. Not.
Without thinking, I stepped to the side, Miles's hand falling away. I glanced at the man out of the corner of my eye, but Miles's expression was calm and unaffected. Maybe I’d imagined the interest back at the studio? Maybe Miles was a better actor than I had given him credit for. I wasn’t sure if that would help or not—it was obvious I was a complete mess at the moment. "I can but I don’t. No time. It's easier to have a service do it or order in." I ladled out the thick mixture of chicken and sauce onto two plates and handed one to Miles. "There's tortillas in the oven." I left my plate on the counter and headed for the minibar in the living room. "You want a drink?" Something to tame the nerves, help me sleep tonight. A good night’s sleep might settle me down a little—Ihadbeen burning the candle at both ends lately.
Just having that plan made me a little calmer.Yeah, I can do this.
"Water's fine," came Miles's voice over the creak of the oven door opening. "How many tortillas do you want?"
