Page 4 of Things We Fake
“Hi, Mrs. H. What can I do for you?”
“Hi, Sue. I’m baking cookies for my grandson, and I ran out of chocolate chips. Do you have any?”
“I do.” I actually bought them specifically for her to borrow, since her gratitude was expressed in cookies. “But I can’t bring them up to you right now. Can you wait twenty minutes?”
“Oh dear. I really don’t want my dough to congeal. Can Icome down and get them?”
“Sure.”
I set the chocolate chips on the table at the entrance, unlocked the door, and returned to my wine and my book. I’d only read a page when someone knocked.
“It’s open,” I called, setting the book down and getting to my feet.
The door opened hesitantly, but instead of Mrs. Hoffman, a gorgeous stranger stood there. Tall and broad-shouldered, he filled the doorway with quiet strength.A black leather jacket molded to his frame, and dark jeans clung to his long, powerful legs. Damp strands of thick brown hair gleamed from the sleet outside. His face was all clean lines and raw male beauty—bronzed skin, a jaw dusted with stubble, and eyes the color of melted chocolate that held both warmth and caution. There was a knapsack slung casually over his shoulder.
Mamma mia!My breath whooshed out of my body and a tingle crept up my inner thighs. If he were lost, I would be happy to give him a home.
I smiled, but instead of smiling in return, his chocolate brown eyes filled with horror, and his eyebrows drew into a frown. Like a bolt of lightning, it hit me. The face mask!
“Excuse me.” Mrs. Hoffman chose that moment to arrive. “Young man, either go in or get out of the way,” she said, shoving him inside the apartment.
I stood there rooted to the spot, watching the last few minutes of my life fly past me.
Mrs. Hoffman, near-sighted at the best of times, focused on the chocolate chips and smiled. “Thanks, Sue. Don’t you have a nice pink glow.”
She turned around, shoved the man out of her way once more, and walked out of the apartment, leaving me alone with the gorgeous stranger.
Chapter Two
Cam
I took in her appearance, from the mass of blond hair piled up on top of her head, to the pink sludge covering her face like radioactive bubblegum, the pink chenille robe, and… Were those bunny slippers on her feet? Yep, they were. Oversized, floppy-eared, ridiculous little things that should’ve killed any hint of sexiness. Instead, they made her hotter.
She blinked up at me with the kind of wide-eyed panic usually reserved for crime documentaries.
“Who are you?” Her words rushed out in a choked whisper.
Shit. I forgot my manners. “I’m sorry, Susanne... I’m, uh... I’m Cam, Sebastian’s friend. I just got into town. He told me to come and see you for the key.”
She frowned, cracking the mask up on her brow. At least, I hoped the pink gunk was some facial treatment, and not a fashion statement. I mentally cursed Sebastian for not giving her a heads-up, then myself for assuming this would go smoothly. She looked like she was debating whether to scream, call the cops, or throw herwine glass at me.
“You can call Sebastian and tell him Cam’s here,” I said, trying to be helpful.
She hesitated, then her eyes fell on my suitcases in the hallway. She must have decided that a serial killer or rapist would travel lighter, because she indicated the key rack beside the door.
“It’s okay. The one with the yellow string is his. Apartment 2 B, next door.”
I reached for the key, not taking my eyes off her. “Thanks. Sorry to have... disturbed you.”
I wanted to say something else, preferably something smart or charming, but the loose tie of her robe distracted the hell out of me. Was she wearing anything under it? My imagination couldn’t handle the possibilities.
I turned on my heel and bolted.
I fumbled with the key to Sebastian’s apartment, then dragged my luggage inside. This whole relocation business wasn’t easy. Most of my things were still back in Denver. I had two suitcases with me, along with a garment bag and my laptop case. I barely got them inside without knocking over a decorative cactus that looked like it hadn’t been watered in months.
I set my bag down and looked around, feeling my left eye twitch. Sebastian’s apartment was a nightmare for a person who needed order to survive. The air smelled of bachelorhood—a mix of Febreze, leftover takeout, and women. Sebastian had dedicated his life to banging as many women as he could, and most of them seemed happy to be part of his ambitious quest.
A slight buzz hummed at the base of my skull, the one that kicks in when things are even slightly out ofplace. The rug in the living room was crooked. The sofa cushions were totally mismatched in size and shape. I couldn’t even look at the chaos on the bookshelves, it was like a tornado had swept past.
