Fake It Baby One More Time: A Fake Romance Collection

by Logan Chance

  “I’m going to sneak out,” he informs me. “See what I can find, while they’re all here.”

  “You can’t leave,” I tell him. “This was not part of the plan.”

  “Twenty minutes, tops. No one will even know I’m gone.”

  “Yes, they will.” Dressed all in black, he appears like he’s about to hold up a liquor store. The clothing combination with his dark hair and eyes is lethal. My vagina doesn’t stand a chance. “What am I supposed to say if someone asks for you?”

  “Tell them I had to take a work call.” He steps closer and taps his finger to my forehead. “Use that smart brain of yours.”

  “You know what will happen if you’re caught.” I’m not really asking him a question, because we both know what happens—our cover would most likely get blown and I can kiss the promotion goodbye.

  “You’re kind of hot when you’re angry,” he says with a glint in his eyes.

  He’s hot all day, every day, but I don’t say that. “Twenty minutes, Vin.”

  He leans super close, too close, and whispers, “Promise.” And then he’s out the back door.

  I try to regain my bearings and get rid of the goosebumps his husky words caused, by putting my game face back on. I step into the backyard like I’m on stage at a Miss America pageant, mingling and smiling, checking my watch all the time waiting for Vin to return.

  After what seems like a decade, he’s by my side, his hand on my back, sending the tiniest of shrills racing up and down my spine.

  He leans close to my ear, whispering, “I can’t wait until later to show you what I found.”

  Before I can even react to his closeness, Kelly drags him away to introduce him to someone he has to meet ‘right now.’

  In the interim, I decide to switch from champagne to water. Champagne makes me tipsy and carefree, in other words it makes me a bit horny, and I do not need to be horny around Vin.

  So, I make a beeline for the kitchen to grab a bottle of water to nurse. Just as I’m thinking this party was a waste, from the window over the sink, I spot June and Dale, with drawn faces and fast moving lips, in an intense conversation near the side of the house.

  Stealthy like a ninja, I slip out into the garage and out the side door, sneaking closer to them, pretending I’m checking on the trash cans.

  “I’m not going to say it again, you need to not get too close to that woman, June,” Dale says in a curt whisper-yell.

  “She doesn’t suspect anything. Besides, this neighborhood makes it hard for people not to be in our business all the time.”

  “Look, it’s either here or back to New Hampshire. Do you want to move back to that place?” They’re both not happy, and I can’t hear her answer, but I can guess it’s a no.

  “Let’s get back to the party,” he says, “and no more having her over at our house. You need to not get close to her.”

  Other than the fact Dale just repeated what he said he wasn’t going to say again, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know the ‘her’ in their convo is me. When I return to the party, no one is none the wiser I’ve been missing. Except Vin.

  “Where were you?” Vin asks, appearing out of nowhere by my side, as I draw closer to the crowd of people congregating by the fire pit in the middle of the yard.

  I stop, moving in closer, so only he can hear. “Listening in on a conversation with the Whithers. Something isn’t right there.”

  I fill him in on what I overheard, and Vin peers over my shoulder, eyeing the Whithers, with their now fake smiles, in the crowd. “I’ll have Grubbs dig a little deeper into their past.”

  I nod. “I’m playing tennis this Monday with Helena.”

  Vin’s eyebrow raises in disbelief. “Tennis?”

  “Yes, tennis.”

  He laughs. “I just didn’t realize you played.”

  “Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” I step away from him, mock swinging a tennis racket.

  “Oh, I know.” He stares after me, like he wants to find out everything about me, but then he blinks and the expression disappears.

  And I’m left with the equivalent of a man’s semi. A lady semi. Is that such a thing? Well, it should be. Because the look in Vin’s eyes said it all. Like he wanted to throw me over his shoulder caveman style and carry me upstairs.

  But, I’m pretty sure I’m just imagining it. Maybe it’s because I wouldn’t mind it being true? Maybe? Maybe not.

  I’ll need to save these thoughts for later, after the party, for when they can be handled properly. With caution gloves.

  The rest of the party is uneventful and filled with random Highlands occupants monopolizing my time, until Miffie pulls me aside.

  “Can I give you another bit of advice?” she asks.

  “Sure,” I answer.

  “Sometimes people want what is not theirs, so you have to let them know right away it’s off limits.” She gives a little head nod over to a couple standing entirely too close in the shadows by the patio. “And that you’re not too fancy to cut a bitch, if need be.”

  I blink. I’m not sure what that even means, and then it hits me as I study the shadowy couple.

  “Excuse me,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

  I cross the yard and when I reach the gate, Vin and Kelly come into view.

  She saunters in closer and puts her hand on his arm, sliding it up his bicep. Call it women’s intuition, but you know when someone’s crossing the line, and Kelly is definitely trying to waltz over it with her spray-tan legs. And he’s not stepping away from her. I understand him and I aren’t technically an item, but what the fuck? Can’t he try to get laid on his own time?

  “There you are,” I say to Vin, sidling up close and slipping my arm around his waist.

  “Kelly was just telling me about what a good cook she is. She offered to teach me to cook something special for you.”

  “Is that right?”

  “I guess I should get back to the party.” Kelly smiles, a fake one, of course, and then brushes past me.

  After she’s out of earshot, I turn on Vin. “Are you kidding me? We’re supposed to be married.”

  “What are you talking about? You think I was trying to hook up?”

  “Well you’re over here in the shadows with her while she’s looking at you like you’re her favorite dessert and she just needs a spoon, and Miffie basically told me to shank her.”

  He grins. “Shank her? I wasn’t doing anything like that. I wouldn’t.”

  “Good, because we have a job to do.” I’m not sure why I’m so offended that Kelly would make a move on my husband, but I am. We just moved in, for god's sake. We’re newlyweds.

  “I know that. And Kelly likes to talk...a lot.”

  “So, what? You have an affair with her and get her to talk?” Would he go that far?

  “No.” He crosses his arms. “Wait, are you jealous?”

  “Not, in the least.” I blink away from him.

  He points his finger at me, wagging it around a bit with a giant grin until our eyes meet. “You are.”

  “I’m not.”

  He leans in close. “I’d never touch a woman like her, and you are extremely cute when you’re jealous.”

  I step back, turn, and move away from him, leaving him standing in the middle of the yard. Only Vin can do this to me. My blood boils like lava, that he would imply I’m jealous. It flames hotter, that he’s right.

  Twelve

  Vin

  Fishing requires patience. A lot of patience. Sometimes, it takes awhile to catch what you’re after, so you need the right bait to lure them in. With Kelly, it just took a slight wink and listening to her rattle on about teaching me to cook ‘juicy thighs and succulent breasts.’

  I’m willing to bet, good ‘ol Greg, sitting across from me, grinning like a shark, doesn’t listen to a word she says. It’s time to cast my hook, because I’m running out of patience.

  “Our house has so much room I’ve thought about
renting out our basement,” I bait Greg, watching closely for any signs of discomfort.

  Seated at a table in the corner of the backyard, I lean my chair back until the front two legs lift off the ground, and wait to see if he bites.

  When I left earlier, I went down the street, right over to the Fowler’s place, because what better time to do a little snooping than when they’re snooping at my party? No luck, though. Everything was locked up tighter than I imagine Addison’s pussy is.

  I didn’t just think that.

  Anyway.

  I did find something interesting at the Sanders’ place, on the way back from the Fowler’s, when I crept up to investigate a light on in the basement. There was a younger woman inside, watching TV. It’s interesting because they shouldn’t have anyone else living there. And she wasn’t in the file.

  “You should,” he encourages me. “Kelly’s sister is visiting us and staying in ours. Plenty of room down there.”

  Well, fuck. He just dissolved the whole mystery within seconds. “You should have invited her to the party,” I say, hiding my frustration.

  He laughs. “She doesn’t like this sort of thing. Besides, she has an early flight out in the morning.”

  I want to add me and her both, but I keep my mouth shut by taking a sip of my beer.

  It’s time to get more aggressive and really prod into all these motherfucker’s businesses, and find out who in this little town is laundering money for the mob.

  After the party winds down, and the band and caterers are gone, Addison closes the door, saying her goodbyes to the last of the guests.

  “Some party,” she says, removing her earrings.

  I follow her into the living room. “Yeah.” I shake my head. “I just don’t know, Bucks.”

  She plops down on the couch, resting her now bare feet on the coffee table. “Know what?”

  “Anything.” She's avoided me since the Kelly incident, so I haven’t been able to tell her about Kelly and Greg’s houseguest. I take a seat beside her and tell her about the dead end I’ve hit and how I don’t know anyone who might have ties with the mafia. So far, not one person has raised a red flag enough to garner further investigation. We’ve been here two weeks, and have no leads. No nothing.

  To say I’m pissed at myself is an understatement. In most cases, I’d have this whole thing wrapped up and sleeping in my own bed by now.

  “Listen,” she turns to face me, “I’m sorry I accused you about Kelly. It’s none of my business.”

  I give her a harsh stare to get my next point across, because it’s an important one. “It is your business. I’m your husband.” It feels weird saying the words, but she needs to get it. I’m not here to pick up chicks. When I started out in the FBI, I was sure constantly putting my life in danger would keep the wedding bells from ringing. But, being here with her, it seems possible. Not with her obviously. But, with someone. You know what I mean.

  “You’re not really my husband.” She laughs a tiny, uncomfortable laugh. “But, I am sorry about earlier.”

  “Doesn’t matter. By all appearances, to these people, I’m happy. Kelly should respect that. If a man rubbed his hands all over what’s mine, he wouldn’t have hands.”

  Her eyes widen a bit at my words as if she’s trying to determine if I’m serious, she sees I am, and gives a little head nod.

  “Besides, I know you were just jealous,” I tease her.

  She laughs a little. “Remind me never to apologize to you.”

  “I think we need some down time.” I put my feet up on the table next to hers. “Want to watch a movie?”

  “Well, shouldn’t we go over the case some more?” She looks wistfully at the TV. “I mean, is that unprofessional?”

  “We can’t work twenty four seven, Addison. Besides, it’s good to break the rules every once in a while. You in?”

  She chews her plump bottom lip, contemplating. “Well, if we’re going to do this, we need snacks.”

  “Snacks?”

  She blinks at me. “Yeah, like Cheetos and beer.”

  My heart nearly stops. If I could give it to her, I would.

  “Ok, we don’t have much here by way of snacks. I’ll run to the store. You get changed.”

  She hops up from the couch. “Deal.”

  I grab the keys off the table and head off in search of Cheetos and beer. I was right when I told Addison we needed downtime. Feels like all we do is talk about the neighbors. Oh, hmm, maybe we do sound like a real married couple?

  The grocery store is still open, so I park and hop out. They’re getting ready to close when I make it through the sliding-glass doors. I grab a little green basket to carry around and scan the directory for what I need.

  Cheetos are a must. Beer is a must too. The champagne at the party was not really my cup of tea. Maybe at one point in my life, had I continued down the neatly manicured path my mother set for me, it would have been.

  But, now it’s beer.

  I grab a six-pack of a local IPA brew, and then find the chip aisle. Pringles and Cheetos go in the basket, and then two aisles over I grab some cookies, just in case she needs chocolate with her salt.

  Since I’m here, I navigate to the pet aisle. If this cat is going to keep finding its way back to our house, the least we can do is feed it.

  I examine the many types of cat food, for entirely too long, before settling on a bag of Purina. I guess the ball of fluff will need some bowls to eat out of, so I select a couple with paw prints on them.

  By the time I make it back home, Addison has changed into black lounge pants with cute little pink coffee mugs on them and a matching T-shirt that reads across her full breasts: ‘Coffee because adulting is hard.’

  I know all about hard right now. Damn, she looks good in anything. “I come bearing snacks.” I hold up the bags before setting them on the island in the kitchen.

  “Ah, what did you get?” Her eyes brighten as she peers into the bags, tucking a strand of hair behind the shell of her ear.

  She immediately goes for the cookies and opens the top.

  I lean against the countertop, watching her like a stalker, as she selects a cookie and takes a small bite. “Good, right?”

  “Very.” She moves to the next bag. “You got cat food?”

  “Yeah, for the cat.”

  She laughs. “I figured.”

  After setting up the food and water dishes for the cat and setting them out the back door for him to eat, we grab the snacks and beer, and make our way into the living area.

  She sits next to me, so we can ‘share.’ “What are we watching?” she asks.

  I flick the remote, and roam through the options on Netflix. “Avengers?” I suggest.

  “I’ve never seen it.”

  “You’ve never seen…” I can’t even finish my sentence, because I’m appalled she hasn’t watched one of the best movies out there.

  I’m already making the decision and turn on the first Avenger movie for her to watch.

  “Let me guess, you wanted to be Captain America growing up?”

  I blink at her. “Wanted to be? Still do, babe.”

  She laughs and nudges her shoulder against mine, and the contact zips straight to my dick.

  This is crazy. I’ve never done this sort of thing. It’s something so simple as watching a movie with a woman, yet, it’s something I’ve never done.

  I pop open my beer as the movie starts, and try to focus on the action taking place on the TV, but instead I find my stare straying over to her leg an inch from mine. She asks a lot of questions, and I answer as best I can, considering the distraction of her sucking an orange Cheeto tipped finger into her mouth. Finally, she puts the torturous snacks away and we settle back with our beers and watch the story unfold.

  The next thing I know, the credits are rolling and Addison is wrapped in my arms—asleep—and there’s a loud crash in the kitchen. She sits up. My feet hit the floor, and I take off in that direction with Addison right
behind me.

  “Freeze,” I shout, wishing I had my gun on me.

  “Dude, I’m sorry,” a teenaged boy with red hair and dark clothing screeches, holding his hands out, near our now overturned trash can. “I’m your next-door neighbor. Preston.” His voice shakes. “Please, don’t tell my mom and dad.”

  “Whithers?” I ask. “Are you Miffie and Richard’s kid?”

  He nods, still as frightened as he was when we first caught him sneaking in.

  “What are you doing here?” Addison questions. She sits him down at the breakfast table, and takes a seat next to him.

  I cross my arms, standing against the doorway, just in case he gets the stupid idea to flee.

  “I knew you had a party. I thought maybe you had some leftover beer. And then I bumped into your trashcan.”

  “I could have shot you,” I say. “Over a beer.”

  “Do you have a gun?”

  I stall, not wanting this kid to know Addison and I are very well versed in the art of carrying guns. “No.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I saw the lights out and thought maybe I could slip in.”

  “Do you do this sort of thing a lot?” I pull out a chair, spinning it around backwards and sitting, draping my arms across the back of it.

  He nods.

  I want to launch into a long lecture about why everything he’s done tonight is wrong and can lead him down a very dark path, but Addison steps closer, taking matters into her own hands.

  “How old are you?” Addison asks him.

  He admires her like she’s the coveted bottle of beer he was looking for. “Seventeen.”

  Without even trying, Addison does something magical, resting her chin in her hand, putting him at ease and making him talk. “Shouldn’t you be out at the movies with friends, or something?”

  “I don’t really have many friends.”

  “Me neither,” Addison commiserates. “But the people here seem nice.”

  He shrugs. “They just don’t really get me.”