Page 8 of Love Unscripted

Trina’s eyes widen and she sits back in her chair. Her gaze shoots off to the left for the fourth time since I arrived.

I lean forward and pick another plate. I stand and move around the table, taking the chair next to her. “Here.” I lift a bite of the cake between my thumb and forefinger. “Try this one.”

The cameras zoom in on us.

Before Trina can react, I grin and mash the cake into her lips. “I need to practice this part.”

Her eyes spark so brightly they gleam, but I can’t tell if it’s laughter or animosity burning there. She grabs a piece of her own and shoves it into my upper lip and nose.

The smell of cake overwhelms me even as I laugh and scrape it from my face. I plop the remnants onto an empty plate and let my laughter roll into great, big belly guffaws.

Off to the side, the cameramen and servers chuckle while covering their laughter behind their hands.

Trina’s expression eases. She unleashes the full power of her smile and shakes her head. “You’re terrible.”

I grab my napkin and lean in close, trying to clean the cake from her mouth. “I like it when you laugh.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but now that I have, I wouldn’t take it back even if I could.

Trina shifts away and takes the napkin from me. “Keep that up and you’ll never see me smile again.”

“Oh, are those your sassy pants?” I nudge her foot under the table. “You’re spicy today.”

“I’m spicy every day.” She swipes the last of the icing away and folds the napkin into a perfect square.

A guy peeks around the camera across from me and motions at Trina as if encouraging her to do the same for me. But she won’t. I don’t mind. I had a chance to adjust to this whole charade. She’s still figuring it out. I know better than to push her any more than I have already.

A woman clears her throat behind me. The baker stands with her hands clasped and her smile firmly in place. “Would you like to try a few other flavors?”

I pull my focus away from Trina. “Do you make lava cakes?”

“Liam.” Trina grabs my hand, the move shocking me into silence.

The baker’s brows pinch together. Her gaze bounces between us, then shifts to the multitude of cameras. “I can make that happen.”

“Good.” I stand and pull Trina to her feet. “We should get to the next venue.”

My stomach gives another grumble of protest.

Trina’s laughter reminds me of bubbles. “You should grab some food on the way.” She hasn’t released my hand, shocking us both. “Come with me. There’s this great food truck a few blocks away.”

“Now we’re talking.”

We step outside together. I sling my arm around her shoulders and tuck her against my side as the press of pedestrians crowds the sidewalk.

She stiffens, then angles her head and purses her lips. I recognize the expression. She’s not sure about me. About any of this. I completely understand. I’d feel the same way in her place.

I wait for Trina to regain her composureand take off. Downtown traffic is ridiculous, and I keep my arm around her the whole time.

Tantalizing smells drift between the stench of car exhaust and hot asphalt. I take in a shallow breath.

Trina tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and steps out from under my arm. “Welcome to Charlie’s.”

A bright yellow food truck parked at the corner advertises a wide assortment of foods. Burgers and fries are at the top of the list, but toward the bottom, I see what makes my mouth water. Street tacos.

Within minutes, we both have tacos in hand. I call our driver, and we scarf down the food while waiting on him to pick us up.

“Don’t you think this whole show and rigmarole is all a bit excessive?” Trina tosses her trash and brushes her hands together. Cars zoom along the street. Horns honk in a steady stream.

“Yeah.” I agree without hesitation. “But it’s what I agreed to do. My team is depending on me to make this work.” I clamp my lips shut before more escapes. Remember who she is, Liam. She almost ruined you.

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