Page 110 of The Fine Art of Faking It
His silence had her opening her eyes again, and she realized what she’d said. “Not that we’re in a real relationship or anything like that. Or that our families would ever be forced to spend time with us as a couple,” she corrected hastily.
“Of course not.”
She let the silence fall again. “Davis?”
“Hmm?”
“Happy Thanksgiving.”
They were both asleep in under a minute.
42
It may have been the turkey talking or some side effect of too many gas pills, but Davis couldn’t stop thinking about Eden’s comments. Imagining their families sitting down to break bread was, of course, ridiculous, impossible even. But she’d said it, and he couldn’t stop mulling it over, looking for a solution. Even now, when he was supposed to be helping Eden educate the volunteers on their HeHa roles.
They were crammed into a conference room on the second floor of the library facing a dozen of Blue Moon’s finest citizens and a few more who wandered in off the street looking for a snack and some conversation.
“So Rasheeda, you’re going to be in charge of the kids with the donation cans, right?” Eden asked, a statuesque woman in her fifties.
Rasheeda nodded. “I’ve personally handpicked ten of the cutest kids in town. She pressed a button on her cellphone screen and a slide show appeared on the wall. “We’ve been practicing the puppy eyes and the quivering lips,” she said, scrolling through photos of adorable, devastated looking kids.
“You’re a genius, Rasheeda,” Eden announced. “Now, let’s talk winter coat drive. What have we collected so far, Ms. Friendly?”
Ms. Friendly was the meanest teacher at Blue Moon High. She sniffed in derision, her mousy brown hair was wrapped around her scalp like a python settling in for the night. “I still don’t see why we aren’tonlyaccepting donations during the HeHa festival,” she griped. “Going through the donations cuts into my lunch, snack, and meditation breaks at school.”
Before Eden could formulate the passive-aggressive, polite response Davis could see her working on, he smoothly stepped in. “I know it’s an imposition now,” he said with sympathy. “But just imagine how relieved you’ll feel that you aren’t responsible for carting fifty garbage bags of winter garments from the park back to the high school so they can be picked up.” He flashed her a devastating grin and Ms. Friendly fluffed hervery marriedhair in appreciation.
Eden narrowed her eyes at Davis, but he only winked.
Moving on, she scanned the agenda he’d printed. “I think that’s everything. We’ve got the chicken corn soup covered, the canned good pick-up scheduled, and all volunteers have been added to the email list and Facebook group.” She checked off each item with the zest of a list lover. And he found it incredibly sexy.
“Are there any questions?”
They fielded another ten minutes of questions that would be asked only in Blue Moon.
Can I bring my pet ferrets to the funnel cake stand?
Will there be a designated nudist area?
Will The Man be recording us with drones?
Nope. NO! And maybe. Just kidding.
The volunteers filed out of the room talking about charity and ferrets. “Nice job, partner,” Davis said, raising a hand.
Eden slapped his palm. “We work well together, don’t we?”
“Kind of makes you wish we’d have done all this sooner, doesn’t it?”
“What, you mean burned your house down?”
“Har har.” He nudged her toward the door. “I have a feeling this is going to be the best HeHa in the history of Blue Moon.” It was time they had a talk. About what happened after revenge. About where they stood… together.
“So, listen,” he began as she locked the door behind them.
But a ruckus interrupted them. Two conference room doors on opposite sides of the hallway were open.
“I need safety pins or else the whole world is going to see Bruce’s butt cheeks,” Ellery called over her shoulder as she barreled out of one room into the next.
