The Fine Art of Faking It

by Lucy Score

  And staring into each other’s eyes, they gave themselves over to the wash of pleasure. The trembling squeezes of her walls set him off. He flexed his hips into her as the orgasm carved him out. He bucked into her over and over again until her hungry squeezes and his pulses subsided.

  29

  Her limbs were heavy and warm. The bed beneath her was too comfortable to leave, but someone had to make breakfast for hungry guests. Bleary-eyed, she reached for her phone on the nightstand to see how many minutes of sleep she could squeeze in before her alarm shrilled.

  Only there was no phone, no nightstand.

  And holy hell, there was someone else on the mattress next to her. Intertwined with her.

  Eden went rigid as a board and sifted through her sleep-addled brain. Davis Gates. Naked. Tossing her a handful of orgasms like he was on a lust-themed parade float.

  She was indeed in the small guest room she’d dumped Davis in, cuddled up under the covers. She peeked under the quilt at the long arm that was nestled between her breasts.

  “I can feel you overthinking everything,” Davis’s sleepy voice filled her ear.

  Embarrassed and confused, Eden tried to sit up. But he only pulled her closer. “Good morning, gorgeous.”

  Eden fought at his grasp. He let her go, and she bounded out of bed, scrambling for whatever clothes she’d worn the night before. “I can’t believe we did this,” she whispered. “Oh my God. If anyone sees me leaving your room…” She’d had glorious, beautiful sex with the man and slept in his bed! Sharing a bed was saved for very serious sexual relationships. She didn’t just fall into bed and stay there with any man. But with Davis, she’d curled up, sated as could be, and gotten a solid six hours of sleep without so much as waking up to roll over in the middle of the night.

  She had a crick in her neck, and her crotch was deliciously sore from overuse.

  “Why can’t people know?” Davis asked with amusement. He propped himself up on his elbow and watched her hop into her shorts. They were on backwards, but at least it was a small barrier between the two of them.

  “What do you mean, ‘why can’t people know?’”

  “We’re supposed to be dating. Wouldn’t that also involve sex?” There was that smug smile again.

  Eden stopped mid-hop. “Oh my God. You’re right. I’m so used to not liking you. This is all just part of our cover. I mean, of course, professional appearances still need to be maintained. We can’t just saunter around the lobby naked, but this is totally allowed.” She sounded like a babbling idiot.

  His smile dimmed by degrees. Davis sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stretched his arms overhead, and Eden gave herself a few seconds to admire the view. He was all lean muscle in the back and shoulders. He looked great in a suit but even better out of one. Because that’s how the world worked. Every layer that she peeled back from the man only revealed something better, smarter, sweeter, sexier.

  Davis rose and padded barefoot into the bathroom.

  “What are you doing?” she called after him, feeling like a lovesick girlfriend. Why didn’t she just pass him a note in Household Management class?

  “I’m starting the shower for us,” he called out. “You don’t have to start breakfast for another forty minutes.”

  “Us?”

  “Unless you want to serve up eggs smelling like sex. Your call.”

  Thirteen minutes and a tidy pair of orgasms later, a much less panicky Eden stretched like a cat in the pool of sunshine at Davis’s window.

  “Wow,” she said for the third time. “You really know how to wake a girl up.”

  He strolled out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but one of her white, fluffy towels. His hair was still damp at the ends.

  “What are you doing tonight?” Davis asked, hooking his fingers in her shorts and pulling her closer.

  Eden beamed up at him. “I don’t know. Do I have plans?”

  He picked up her hand and kissed each knuckle, melting Eden from the inside out. “You have a date. With me. For ice cream.”

  “That sounds really good,” she said, the good feelings settling in her stomach like comfort food.

  “Say seven?” he asked.

  “Okay,” she said dreamily. “Sounds great. I’m going to go… dry my hair… make breakfast.” She was in a sexual stupor. She needed to leave this man’s room before she said or did one more stupid thing. “Bye, Davis.”

  “Bye, gorgeous.”

  She opened the door on her face and rubbed the cheek that took the blow. “Ha. Oops. Okay. I’m just gonna…”

  She stepped out into the hallway and made a mad dash for her room before she could humiliate herself any further.

  Safely ensconced in her living quarters, Eden cupped her hands to her flushed cheeks. “What the hell have I done?” she whispered.

  She felt amazing. Like she’d just let go of years of pent-up frustration and anger and disappointment and banished them with a sexual rite of passage. She didn’t want to overthink this, didn’t want to wonder why one night with Davis had erased years of bad feelings.

  Eden spotted her phone on her nightstand where she’d left it last night and grabbed it. No guest emergencies, thank goodness. But there was a group text conversation from Sammy and Layla.

  Sammy: Rumor has it you and your parents threw down at the brewery. Do you need help disposing of the bodies?

  Layla: Rumor also has it you and Davis left the brewery together and that the BC has doubled down on you two. SPILL THE BEANS!

  Eden carried her phone into her bathroom and plugged in the hair dryer. She debated blowing them off and focusing on her day until she could make sense of all the crazy feelings that were careening around in her system.

  Eden: Sorry. Spent the night watching Wheel of Fortune reruns. Catch up soon?

  “Wheel of Fortune reruns” was their code for having a sexy story to tell.

  Sammy: Holy shit. Holy freakin’ shit! I can pencil you in at 10:30 this morning barring any emergencies. Lay? What’s your deputy schedule look like?

  Layla: Same. 10:30 at the inn. There’d better be coffee, some of those little sugary things, and an orgasm count.

  Eden: You guys are ridiculous.

  Layla: WILL THERE BE LITTLE SUGARY THINGS?

  Eden served up poached eggs over avocado toast with sides of sausage—turkey and vegan—to her early risers. And she did it with a smile permanently etched on her face. After drying her hair, she’d fussed a little with her makeup and chose a pretty cranberry wrap blouse and navy skinny pants.

  If she felt good, she might as well look the part, she decided.

  Davis skipped breakfast to head out for an early meeting with the vintner. But not before sending her a sweet text.

  Davis: I have a feeling I’ll be thinking of you and smiling all day long. Thanks for an amazing night, gorgeous.

  If Eden were the swooning type, she would have let her knees buckle so she could collapse on the fainting couch in the east suite. But she was far too practical for that. Instead, she took inventory of the towels and toiletries and double checked that the linens were fresh. The room was, as usual perfection. It’s subtle gold walls showcased local artists’ oil paintings in natural themes. The windows were a perfect frame for the rising sun. The entire space smelled lightly of lemons and sage, the work of her cleaning crew. Eden placed the bottle of wine the guests had ordered next to the two glasses on the sideboard.

  She heard the bark of a dog downstairs and checked her watch.

  Layla: We’re here. Make your ass magically appear or we’ll start knocking on doors.

  They would too. Nothing stood between her friends and sex news. She gave the room another quick once-over and skipped down the stairs to meet them.

  She caught Sammy with her hand in the candy jar at the front desk and Layla snooping around the guestbook.

  Vader was nudging Layla’s free hand for absent pats.

  “Isn’t it a beautiful mornin
g, ladies?” Eden sighed grandly.

  “Oh, boy. There’s a lot of orgasms written on her face,” Sammy said, unwrapping a peppermint.

  “I hate you a little bit right now,” Layla groaned, leaning down to bury her face in the dog’s yellow fluff.

  “Come on. I’ll feed you and fill you in,” Eden promised. She led the way into the now empty dining room. Breakfast service ended at nine. Late sleepers were directed into town or to the stash of donuts, pastries, and fruit Eden refilled daily in the library.

  Layla’s eyes lit up when she saw the tray of lemon blueberry scones. “Dibs on the entire tray.” She picked up one of the dainty side plates and began loading it to capacity.

  At home here, Sammy helped herself to the coffee carafe while Eden made herself a cup of tea.

  They sat, basking in the sunlight that poured through the wall of windows, and sipped in silence for all of four seconds.

  “Okay. Let’s get this show on the road. Why do you look like you just spent all night practicing the Kama Sutra?” Layla asked, through a mouthful of crumbs.

  “You do look like a Zen orgasm master,” Sammy added thoughtfully.

  “Davis and I had sex—three times—and it was amazing, and I can’t stop smiling, and my body has that really great “used” feeling today. Like every time I sit down, I think about him and us and last night…”

  She trailed off, taking in the open-mouthed gapes of her friends.

  “What?”

  Sammy collected herself first. “Uh. We’ve just never heard you babble over a sexual experience before.”

  “I’m not babbling,” Eden argued.

  Layla snorted. “Totally babbling.”

  “We’re not making fun of you,” Sammy insisted.

  “Maybe a little.” Layla held up her index finger and thumb. “A tiny bit.”

  “No more scones for you,” Eden said, flipping her friend off.

  “Come on. We’ll behave,” Sammy promised. “Tell us what happened.”

  “Did you go all rebel without a clue after your parents threatened to dismember you?” Layla demanded.

  “Disown me,” Eden corrected. She hadn’t had any time to check the Blue Moon Facebook group, the gossip mecca for residents. There was probably misinformation out the wazoo in that little corner of the internet.

  Layla stared at her for a moment and shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She pulled her wallet out of her back pocket and tossed a twenty in Sammy’s direction.

  “Yes!” Sammy snatched up the bill and kissed it.

  “What’s this about?” Eden asked, picking up a cookie.

  Sammy tucked the money into her shirt pocket. “Ten years ago, I bet Layla that you and Davis would end up together.”

  Eden gasped. “You did what? You’re supposed to be my friend.”

  “I am your friend, and you are dating Davis.” Sammy’s logic was infallible.

  “I’m not dating him,” Eden snapped. “I’m fake dating him to get back at the Beautification Committee.”

  Layla held up a finger. “Hang on. You’re fake dating but real banging Davis for revenge?”

  When she put it like that, it sounded stupid and immature.

  “Is this like when you spite dated Ramesh in high school?” Sammy asked.

  “No! It’s not like that,” Eden argued. “I’m an adult now—”

  “An adult who is fake dating her next-door neighbor.”

  “I want my money back,” Layla said, holding her hand out to Sammy.

  “They burned down his house!” Eden realized her mistake a moment too late. Layla’s eyes sharpened. She was all cop now.

  “They did what now?”

  “It’s just a theory. We don’t have any evidence,” Eden said quickly. Getting half the town arrested for arson wouldn’t do anyone any favors.

  “How about you let the police assess that?” Layla suggested with professional politeness reserved for really obnoxious citizens right before they got cuffed.

  “Oh, sure. Because you really want your boss to investigate his own wife?” Eden let the words hang there between them.

  “Shit,” Layla swore.

  It was well-known that Eva—wife of Sheriff Cardona—and her sister Gia—wife of Blue Moon’s mayor Beckett—were members of the Beautification Committee as was Beckett’s paralegal and right-hand woman, Ellery. Hell, there was a bank president and town councilman in play as well.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do with this information?” Layla demanded.

  “Nothing! It’s purely speculation that they plotted to make Davis’s house unlivable so he’d have to come stay with me.”

  “They burned down his kitchen and made the whole town smell like burrito farts for two days.”

  “I heard Davis can’t get the insurance money to start the repairs,” Sammy put in. Vader trotted up to her and stuck her head in the vet’s lap.

  “Why does she like you so much when you give her shots and check her rectal temperature?” Eden wondered.

  “I save the good treats for her,” Sammy said, squishing Vader’s big face between her hands. “Isn’t that right, sweetie pie?” She fished out a dog treat from her pants pocket.

  “Where’s Chewy?” Layla asked, glancing around for Vader’s lazier counterpart.

  “Probably with Davis.”

  Sammy and Layla exchanged eyebrow wiggles.

  “What?” Eden shrugged. “He goes with him to the winery sometimes.”

  “But you’re only fake dating?” Layla clarified.

  “Yes!

  “Still confused. If you’re fake dating, why did you have real sex?” Sammy asked, sipping her coffee.

  Before Eden could formulate a response, Layla stepped in. “Have you seen Davis? What single woman could be under the same roof and not want to jump his bones and rip those sexy-ass suits off of him?”

  “It was just a… fluke,” Eden insisted. “We ran into my parents at the brewery last night, and things got heated and… then they stayed heated when we got back here.”

  “I’m keeping the money,” Sammy announced.

  “It was just sex,” Layla argued.

  “One time! A fluke!” Eden put in. They didn’t need to know about round two this morning.

  “I’m inclined to let it ride and see what the outcome is,” Sammy decided, ignoring Eden. She handed over another treat to Vader.

  “Shake on it?” Vader put her paw in Layla’s offered hand.

  “Awh. What a good shake, but I meant the mean vet lady,” Layla told the dog.

  “It’s not happening again. There’s no real relationship there. We can barely tolerate each other,” Eden argued.

  “Barely tolerate is better than hate,” Sammy mused.

  “A fluke. Never again,” she told her friends. She was also reminding herself. The whole point was to teach the Beautification Committee a lesson. Not to complicate things or lose her head over a man she was too scared to trust again.

  Eden’s watch signaled giving her a much-needed excuse to duck out of the conversation. “Hang on, I’ve got someone at the front desk,” she said.

  She stepped out of the dining room, leaving her friends arguing over if she had sex with Davis again would that constitute the relationship they’d bet on.

  “Mornin’, Eden,” Liz Berkowicz, the face of Every Bloomin’ Thing, poked her head over a massive bouquet of pretty fall flowers. Oranges and purples and reds as deep as blood. “Got a delivery for you.”

  “Wow,” Eden said, taking the flowers out of Liz’s hands and putting them on the front desk counter. “Stunning as usual. Who’s the lucky recipient?”

  Liz gave her a funny “duh” look. “One Eden Moody according to the card.”

  “Me?”

  “Looks like you made quite the impression last night.”

  Eden grabbed the card.

  For a night fifteen years in the making.

  Davis

  Eden’s heart di
d that funny flip-flop thing again in her chest. But she shook it off. This wasn’t real. This was part of the plan. She reminded herself. It was a smart move on his part. Everyone would be talking about the bouquet, the note. This fit the plan.

  “Thanks, Liz,” Eden said. She didn’t have to work hard to paste a lovesick smile on her face.

  “Sounds like you’ve got quite the admirer,” Liz pressed, fishing for details.

  “The feeling is… mutual,” she choked out.

  “Well, have fun admiring each other,” Liz said, giving her a slow wink. She walked out whistling, leaving Eden staring at the flowers.

  “Well, well, well. Someone was a good girl,” Layla said strolling out of the dining room with Sammy on her heels.

  “Holy hell,” Sammy said. “Where can I get a fake boyfriend who’ll give me real orgasms and flowers?”

  30

  He hoped the flowers weren’t too much. He’d gotten carried away, riding the high of last night. Any doubts and concerns he’d had over whether Eden had feelings for him had been erased. No one could fake that kind of connection. Not even Eden Moody.

  Davis whistled his way into the belly of the winery. Stainless steel tanks lined the walls, filled with the winery’s future. Primary fermentation was over, and now the new wine was settling, transforming into something else. New beginnings. And weren’t there a lot of those going around?

  Chewy danced at his heels. The dog had made himself a mascot of sorts at the winery. Visitors loved him. And he loved their affection… and the dog bed Davis had installed in his office. Vader joined them some mornings. But spent most days at the inn.

  Davis felt like Chewy’s seal of approval carried weight with Eden. And he was willing to take all the help he could get to win her over. Not just temporarily. Last night had clinched it. He was going to make Eden Moody his. Parents and pasts be damned.