Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
The whole way up to Corbin and Mabel’s bakery in Cozy Valley, I’m well aware this thing between us is all fake. I’m her fake date for this whole series of videos on her sister’s show about her wedding and all its countless, ridiculous, over-the-top events.
But every glance at the curve of Remy’s calves, every time her eyes meet mine, makes the word “fake” feel like a goddamn lie.
* * *
The look Corbin gives me when I walk into his bakery with a hand on Remy’s back is the definition of “I told you so.”
I shoot him a look that I hope says shut the fuck up.
When Remy steps away from me to go say hi to Mabel, Corbin stares me down. “Dude.”
“Dude,” I reply.
“You look—”
“What? Am I not allowed to take her on a date?”
“No, what the fuck happened to your head?”
“Oh, right, that.” I lift my hand to drag it through my hair, but there are only phantom locks there. “It was time for a change.”
“Damn, you were proud of that hair. Best flow in hockey, or some shit like that.”
“Aw, you keep up with me.”
“It’s hard not to when you brag about it all the time.”
“Don’t worry. I still look fucking awesome. Remy cut it,” I add.
Corbin smiles like he’s caught me red-handed. “So that’s how it goes.”
I shrug off the comment, like it’s no big deal since that’s easier than facing the bigness of the deal. “Yep. That’s how it goes,” I say, then survey the scene in the Afternoon Delight bakery. The camera crew is here. Remy’s sister stands in front of a mural of a fox and a llama sharing a cupcake, the whimsical scene a stark contrast to the intense look on her face as she talks with two other women—one with a tight bun. Both were at the picnic. Pretty sure one is from Fresh Face and the other works for Caroline. But as soon as Caroline spots her sister, she beelines over and hugs Remy.
The crew captures it on video.
Parker’s here too, checking out some of the shop’s popular “F*ck Mornings” merch, and Jameson is also here with his dumb undercut and stupid smile, and…hold on. What’s that? Is he actually holding a bottle of his beer? Just like at the picnic. He’s probably going to try to hold it up and get it casually in front of the camera.
Fuck that guy.
But then—yes! Let’s fuck with that guy. I motion for Corbin to come closer, then say out of the corner of my mouth, “Help a teammate out?”
Corbin nods. “Always.”
I tell him the plan, and he says dinner’s on me for the rest of the season.
“Fair,” I say, as I knock his fist in agreement.
Corbin calls Mabel over and whispers to her. She nods with something like glee in her eyes.
A few minutes later, the bride and groom settle in at a white table, with Jameson and Remy nearby. Everyone’s in place. Mabel grabs the first slice of wedding cake for the couple to test and heads over to Caroline and Parker. Since the camera is focused on the couple, I take my chance.
I catch Jameson’s eyes and motion for him to join Corbin and me behind the counter. Jameson’s brows scrunch and he gives a who, me look. I nod, mouthing “Yeah.”
And that’s all it takes to reel him in. The status seeker heads over to us.
“Hey, my buddy wanted to hear more about your beer. You know Corbin Knight? He’s on the Foxes too,” I say, casual and nonchalant as I jerk my thumb toward him.
“Oh, yeah. For sure,” Jameson says, excitement flickering in his beady little eyes. “Great goal the other night.”
“Thanks, man,” Corbin says, then nods to the ever-present bottle Jameson holds like it’s his security blanket. “Tell me more. Because I’m thinking a bakery that serves beer is the next big thing.”
Jameson buys it hook, line, and sinker. “You’re speaking my language. What goes better with cake than brew?”
Anything. Literally anything.
But Corbin dials in an Oscar-worthy performance, setting an elbow on the counter, looking like he’s all ears. “Tell me what you got, my man.”
Jameson launches into a long-ass description of every excruciating detail of his beers, while I slip away and join Remy.
She gives me a silent look, asking what’s up.
I just flash her a satisfied smile, one I hope reassures her that I’ve got this handled. She doesn’t stop though. Her eyes are imploring.
Right. She hates surprises. Don’t want to stress her out, so I lean in, brush some strands away from her ear, and whisper, “Just taking care of the best man with a little distraction.”
It takes a beat as she watches them, then she puts it together, her brown eyes sparkling as she seems to fight off a smile. When Caroline slides the cake her way, Remy lasers in on the maid-of-honor job. She takes a bite of the vanilla and buttercream concoction. As she licks her fork, she moans her approval. “So good,” she says to Caroline, but I’m hearing it in other contexts.