Page 24 of Dirty Secret Love

She takes a deep breath, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her mug. I’m waiting for some heartbreaking confession when she says, “Obviously with you.”

What the fuck?Is this a trap? Maybe a way to get me to be with her. I stare at her and want to run away.

ChapterTwelve

Sutton

“Obviously, with you,”I answer.

If we’re going to pretend this is real, I guess I can get into character.I’m good at it. It’s part of my job. They should’ve called me if we were going to make shit up, I get paid to do that on a regular basis. Though, I’m not sure how to continue this of course.

A fake relationship where you put the hero and the heroine in one little house for a few days merits sex, doesn’t it? And there goes my dubious brain wanting two naked bodies and lots of friction between them. I discreetly glance at River’s crotch trying to guess if we’re dealing with a well-endowed hero, but it’s hard to say with the way he’s standing.

“With me?” He sounds flustered. When I glance at him, he looks genuinely taken aback, eyebrows shooting up. “You are . . . in love with me?”

I roll my eyes, a hint of amusement tugging at my lips. “Isn’t that what we agreed on? We’re constructing a narrative so everyone will believe us.” I straighten up and pull out my phone, opening my notebook app. I wish I had brought my iPad. I could use some of this material for later. “Let’s make this more real.”

He takes a moment, letting out a sigh, and finally relaxes a bit. “Sure, we’ll do that.” He waves toward my phone. “But first tell me about your past. There had to have been someone else before pretend-me came swooping in to fake date you.”

The question hits me harder than expected. Have I been in love? It’s a bit disheartening, even pathetic, to admit that I haven’t. Between bad dates, building my career, and settling into routines, love took a back seat. For someone who relishes in fictional happily-ever-afters, my romantic real-life . . . well, sucks.

“Honestly, none of my past flings felt good enough to label as love. My most serious boyfriend, Thomas, was a serial dater and when things were progressing, he decided we weren’t compatible,” I admit, resisting the urge to mention the manipulative jerk I dated while I worked in New York. The one who had me wrapped around his finger up until he made a move on Jez, and she broke his ballsandarm.

River tilts his head, eyes studying me, before finally murmuring, “Huh.”

With a playful smirk, I respond, “You seem surprised.”

“I would’ve thought you had some sad story about a guy who broke your heart.” He leans back in his chair. “I was even ready to run for the tissues and search for some ice cream. You only made me laugh.”

I smirk, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Oh? That’s refreshing—a guy who’s actually eager to listen to stories of heartbreak.” I cock a brow. “You’re one of a kind, aren’t you?”

His gaze drifts to the side momentarily, lost in a memory. “I’m not asking for it, but I know how to handle them. Elle has had her fair share of heartbreaks,” he admits, the weight of concern evident in his eyes. “When I promised Mom I would take care of her, it included heartbreaks and disillusions.”

“And you’ve been there giving her marshies?”

His mouth curves into a soft, endearing smile, making my heart flutter for just a second. Instead of writing our story, I should take notes about him. He’ll be a great hero. One of those who’ll make the coldest heroine fall in love because he cares about his sister. He’s been looking after her since her parents died tragically.

I mean, I could use a real boyfriend like him. But not him of course, we’re too different to be together.

Okay, Sutton, you have to stop fantasizing about River. He’s just helping you with your crazy family. The man is just passing through. One of the reasons you chose him—aside from his good looks and charm—is because he’s not your type. Not. Your. Type.

“No, I usually turn up with ice cream. We stream comedies until she’s ready to face the world again. Then, we go out and play tourist for a day.”That familiar brotherly love shines in his eyes. It’s sweet that he cares about his sister so much.

My brother, Spencer, would slam the door in my face if I ever visited him without an invitation. I doubt he’d do anything if I told him someone broke my heart. He might just call me an idiot and remind me to stay away because we’re not that kind of family.

“You’re a good brother.”

“Only to Elle and Gen,” he confesses, taking a sip of his drink.

I’m intrigued by that statement. Well, who am I kidding? The entire family and their interactions fascinate me. Of course, I have to ask, “Because they’re the women in the family?”

“No, because they’re the only ones who can stand me out of all my siblings.”

I look at him incredulously. After my brief conversation with Cal, I think there’s some kind of disconnect between all of them. “Why do you think that?”

“I don’t think. I know,” he states. “They hate me because they think I got it better than them. Apparently, my father was a better human being to me than he was to them, so they resent me.”

That sounds odd. Is that because he’s the youngest? Maybe his mother played a role in that. Relationships like this not only hold my interest but make for great material. I just don’t know if I should use him.

---