Fake It Baby One More Time: A Fake Romance Collection

by Logan Chance

  But, for some reason, I’m not ready for this to be over just yet.

  “Soon, we can arrest the guilty couple and be on our way,” he continues.

  That thought depresses me. As much as I hate to say it, I sort of like these women. And I more than like Vin.

  “One cream, two sugars.” He hands the mug to me.

  “Scary you know that.” I laugh, trying to ease away the awkwardness I’m feeling.

  Vin isn’t having the same awkward issues I am, as he plants a kiss on my forehead. “Are you walking with the ladies today?”

  “Yeah.” I check my watch. “I should go.” I set the mug down after taking one last sip.

  Vin steps closer. “Try to keep the women out a bit longer than usual. Grubbs got word a drop might happen this week. See who gets antsy and wants to go home.” He makes this devilishly charming smile. “Hell, whoever it is, ask to stop by their house later.”

  I nod. “Sure thing.”

  “Have fun, and keep me posted.”

  “Will do.” Before I can do something to make things worse, like kiss him goodbye, I grab my water bottle and rush out of the house to meet with everyone.

  “Didn’t think you were going to make it,” Miffie calls out as I cross the street to where the small group of women stand.

  “Rough night.”

  “If I had a husband like yours, every night would be a rough one.” June laughs at her own joke and we all giggle with her.

  But she’s right. How can a man like Vin still be available? It’s almost too good to be true.

  I’ll admit it, when I first met him, I disliked everything about him. But, after living with him, I’ve come to realize he’s not as bad as I once thought. He’s actually very thoughtful.

  Like the way he always has my coffee ready for me in the morning. He always makes sure I’ve got everything I need, kind of like a real husband would do.

  He’s a good fake husband.

  We follow our routine and walk with Miffie in the lead, like she’s competing for a gold medal in exercise. June and I hang out in the back, behind Kelly and Helena, because even though I’m in good shape, last night was indeed rough. I need more sleep. My thoughts kept me awake most of the night.

  When our allotted two miles is up, I address the whole group, “Ladies, I feel inspired. Maybe we should go another block or two?”

  Miffie beams. “Yes, that’s what I’m talking about. I’m in.” She peeks over her shoulder at the rest of us. “We’ll have to walk fast, because Richard, for the first time in years, is working late, and I need to get my house together for our special guest.”

  Ah, yes the guest. But, instead of thinking about Matteo, my mind is wondering where Richard is heading off to.

  June glances at me like I’ve just grown an alien head on my shoulder. “Another block? Or two? Are you crazy?” She takes a swig of water.

  I shrug. “Could be fun. Helena, Kelly, what do you think?”

  At the same time, they reply with a ‘busy.’

  Miffie bounces in place as if she’s still walking, “Busy doing what?”

  “Well, I have to fill in for Chester because one of his employees called in sick, and he needs me to fill in today,” a frowning Helena complains.

  “Ten minutes,” I encourage them, and they finally relent.

  We continue our walk through the quiet neighborhood, Miffie in the lead as always, and June grabs my arm, pulling me back just a bit. “Is everything ok?” she whispers.

  “Everything is fine. Why?”

  “You seem a little high strung today.”

  Part of me wishes I could tell her my problems, but the other part knows I can’t.

  “Everything is good,” I assure her.

  She accepts my answer, and when we round the block for the last time, before we disperse, Miffie reminds us once again, “Don’t forget cookbook club tomorrow. Bring your favorite pizza topping.”

  “You think he’ll really show?” a doubtful Helena directs at me. I shrug, but he better. I’ve been banking on the fact Matteo Lombardi will show up to our little shindig.

  It’s insane to think a mafia boss will be at Miffie’s house. What was I thinking inviting a mob boss to cookbook club? I can see the look of disappointment on Ben Steele’s face already. “Were you hoping he’d explain money laundering in between the cooking lesson?” he’d ask, right after he fired Vin and I for sleeping together.

  Ugh. I’m botching this whole assignment.

  One of my daily memes once said: I think my problem is I have really fantastic bad ideas. That’s definitely me lately. But another said, “Ironing boards are just surfboards that gave up on their dreams. Don’t be an ironing board.” I like that one. But if this falls through with Matteo tonight, maybe I’m meant to be an ironing board.

  Twenty-Six

  Vin

  You know what? Matteo is about to go down. I think. No, there’s no thought process needed. I’ve always had a feeling. Ya know the type of feeling when shit’s about to happen? When some serious stuff is all coming to a head? Well, I can feel it in my gut something is going to happen soon.

  Seeing Matteo at that club was not a coincidence, and I don’t care how many people try to tell me it is.

  Something was up that night.

  A drop went down.

  I just can’t prove it...yet.

  But, soon. I just need to be patient. Patience is not a virtue I possess, but it’s something I’m learning. I blame Addison. Ever since I’ve moved into this house with her, I’ve been biding my time, waiting on someone to drop a clue, and trying my hardest not to fall for the sexy vixen in the process.

  No one has, and, the latter part happened anyway. There’s an Italian saying—L’amore trova la strada—love will find a way. Not that I’m in love, mind you.

  I’ve fallen. Fast and hard.

  I’ve had this gut feeling something is not right with Richard, so when Addison said Miffie told her Richard was working late, I knew I wanted to follow him.

  And follow him we did.

  Addison and I followed him from his work, straight to a mini-mart parking lot where he picked up a blonde woman, and then, all the way into downtown Denver.

  The woman looks just like Kelly, and Addison and I are trying to think back if the two of them ever gave any signs that they are either A.) having an affair, or B.) laundering money for the mafia.

  So far, we can’t think of anything.

  Sure, Kelly likes to flirt, but she doesn’t seem the type to go after Richard of all people. But, then again, I don’t know these people as well as I like to think I do.

  Never get too close. That’s always been my motto, and it’s worked out well for me in the past. We’re here to catch whoever is laundering money for Matteo, not make friends with these people.

  Addison on the other hand...

  I worry about her. I worry that when this is all over, she’ll be left with some sort of void she won’t be able to fill.

  Makes it worse that here I am having sex with her.

  Don’t get me wrong, I care about her. Maybe a little bit too much.

  What is wrong with me? I’ve turned into a man who says things like ‘I worry about her.’ Fuck yeah, I do.

  She’s working some sort of voodoo all over me, making me see life through some sort of rose-colored glasses, and for a minute, I’ve been caught up in the fantasy of it all.

  My pretend wife. My pretend life. It’s all so perfect.

  But, it’s not mine.

  It’s not the reason I’m here.

  The reason I’m sitting in the Rover with Addison in the parking lot of a motel, trying not to be seen, is to catch a criminal. And who is that criminal? Richard? Kelly? Who fucking knows.

  Kelly remains in the car while Richard heads into the lobby of the building. A few minutes later, he exits the office, key in hand, and hops back into his Audi to drive a little further to whatever room he just rented.

  Together,
we watch and wait.

  They’re together in room two twenty-three, and Addison and I aren’t moving until they walk out.

  “Did you want more fries?” Addison asks, pointing to the bag of food she got from the Burger King across the street.

  “I’m good.” Ah, the wonderful world of stake outs.

  Eating fried, fast-food as you wait and wait. Although, the waiting isn’t so bad when it’s Addison who’s here with me.

  I actually kind of like being in here with her. After last night, I can’t seem to stop thinking about her.

  “About last night,” she starts, like a mindreader.

  I hold my breath. Please don’t say it was a mistake. Because, I don’t feel that it was. Then again, I never think the art of sex is ever wrong. But, I know Addison isn’t built like me. I know she’s never done the casual sex thing before.

  And if I’m being completely honest here, it didn’t feel like casual sex to me at all. It felt more real than anything I’ve ever experienced.

  “Go ahead,” I say when she doesn’t continue.

  “I just don’t want things to get weird between us.”

  “I don’t think they will.”

  I place my hand on the top of her knee, stroking my fingers along the material of her jeans.

  I know we’re on a stakeout, but I can’t stop touching this woman. I knead my hand harder, pulling her closer just a bit, and then my lips find her neck, kissing the spot where her pulse throbs against her sweet skin.

  “Vin, what are you doing?”

  She doesn’t pull away, so I kiss along her jawline. “I just can’t keep my lips off you.” I run my hand up her thigh.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this right now.” But, she tilts her head to give me better access.

  I pull back. “You’re right. We should stop.”

  Her baby blues meet my eyes. “Maybe one small kiss.” And then, she leans over the seat and kisses me square on the lips.

  I take control as soon as her tongue meets mine, and snake my hand through her blonde waves, tugging on each silky strand.

  What we’re doing right now should be in a pamphlet titled, ‘What not to do on a stakeout.’ I break the kiss with a groan, wishing more than life itself, I could end this assignment already and kiss her how I want to kiss her.

  “What are you doing to me?” I mumble against her plump, just-been-kissed lips.

  “Same thing you’re doing to me,” she breathes out.

  I need to stop doing this with her, right now. We need to focus on the task at hand. I spot movement out of the corner of my eye and grab my camera with the long focal length lens. It isn’t Richard walking across the lot but just some random hotel employee with a mop in his hands. “It’s not them,” I say.

  “I still can’t believe Kelly’s involved. And with Richard?”

  “People aren’t always what they seem.” I continue trying to get a look into the hotel room, but the curtains are drawn shut.

  So we wait.

  “I just don’t understand where they’re laundering the money through,” I muse. “Kelly’s never mentioned a side business? Something that the numbers could be easily fudged?”

  “Nothing.” She looks over at me. “They’ve been in there a long time. Do you think they slipped out?”

  “They’re in there.” Unless, they left while we were kissing, which is highly unlikely. Well, it’s probably unlikely. Ok, it could have happened.

  “Let’s check it out,” I say, opening the Rover door.

  We both exit, moving ever so slowly through the lot, making sure our cover doesn’t get blown.

  As soon as we’re almost to the door, it opens and Richard steps out.

  What the fuck? I pull Addison into a breezeway with an ice machine.

  “That’s not Kelly,” she says to me. “I don’t know who that is.”

  “So this is his big secret?” I ask as we watch the mystery blonde and Richard walk back to the office. “He’s having an affair?”

  Addison remains upbeat, sliding out her phone to get pictures, but I’ve lost my pep. I’m disappointed.

  Matteo’s men never showed up. There was no money drop. I don’t know what the Hell I was expecting here, but it sure as shit wasn’t this.

  “Fuck,” I hiss out, slamming my hand against the concrete wall.

  Addison lowers her phone, and turns to face me, placing her hand on my arm. “I know you wanted him to be guilty. Who knows, maybe she works for Matteo.” She taps a few keys on her phone. “I’m sending pictures to Grubbs to see if he can id her.”

  “Good idea.” I’m devoid of any emotion, the anger having run its course and leaving me with hollow emptiness.

  Addison’s big blue eyes watch me before she speaks, “I know you wanted to end this case so you could get back to your regular life.” She glances down at her phone. “We’ve been undercover for so long it would be nice to get back to reality.”

  And there it is, folks—loud and clear like a warning siren that deafens you—she wants to go back to her reality. The reality that doesn’t involve me in her life. The one where we don’t kiss. We don’t have sex. And we don’t live happily ever after.

  I sound like a pussy.

  “Let’s follow them,” I tell her. “See where else they go.”

  “I’m so offended for Miffie,” Addison grumbles.

  “It’s not our business,” I remind her. “Sounds callous, and he’s a real dick, but karma will catch up to him.”

  On cue, they exit from the office. She worries her lip, studying them walk to his car. “Maybe today.” She steps out from the breezeway. “Richard, hey,” she calls out, waving.

  Fuck. Her crossing the lot to confront the suspect, should also go in the “What not to do on a stakeout” pamphlet. I follow her over.

  “Miffie said you were working late.” She gives a pointed glance to the mystery woman now sitting in his car. “Did you get off early?”

  Richard looks like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Listen, I need you to not tell Miffie about this.”

  “My loyalties aren’t with you, Richard.”

  He opens his mouth, then closes it. “Wait, do you think I meant…” Addison lifts a brow in answer. “I’m planning a surprise wedding vow renewal. This is Margaret Collins, the event planner.”

  “Ah,” Addison says. “Are you having it here?”

  He laughs. “No. This is where Miffie and I ended up when I asked her to marry me. I wanted to see how it changed, so Margaret can recreate it.”

  “Oh, that’s so cool,” Addison replies.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks.

  “Vin and I like to, well you know, in a new hotel each week.” She looks over at me. “Keeps the magic alive.”

  “Well, thanks for not mentioning this. She’s going to be really happy.”

  He’s got to be telling the truth. There’s no fidgeting or avoiding our eyes.

  “Good to see you, Richard,” I say, before I steer Addison away to our car.

  “I believe him,” Addison says, as we climb back in the Rover.

  “Yeah. Why did you confront him?”

  She shrugs. “Just seemed like the right thing to do? I know I’m not supposed to care whether he is or isn’t, considering. But I’m not wired that way.”

  No, she’s not.

  And then she gets the confirmation from Grubbs that Margaret is indeed who Richard said she was. So now we wait some more.

  Am I happy we didn’t just get a break in the case so I can stay pretend married to her for a little longer? Or am I enraged this shit is one big dead end after another?

  I’m neither.

  I’m at the point where I just realized, I love this girl.

  Twenty-Seven

  Addison

  I like Vin more than pizza, and I like pizza a lot. Like love it. And this is the reason we have to get out of here. I already feel the jagged ache of my heart cracking down the middle,
and we haven’t even left here yet. His response to seeing Richard at the hotel yesterday was like his dog died. That leads me to believe, he’s ready to get out of here, back to his real life. Tonight, at cookbook club, I’m going to throw these emotions into Miffie’s brick oven and burn them to a crisp.

  “You ready?” Vin asks, holding the thin wire he’s going to connect to me before I leave for Miffie’s.

  “I’m ready.” I don’t know if I really am, but if he shows, this is our big chance to get Matteo to say something incriminating. Vin will be listening to everything, and I’ll have a minuscule earpiece to communicate with him, so why does my belly feel like it’s on a rollercoaster?

  I sit on the bed, inching the hem of my I’m just here for the the pizza t-shirt so Vin can place the wire in all the right places.

  “I’ve seen you without a shirt on.” He crouches between my legs. “You don’t have to be shy now.”

  Yes, Vin has seen everything God gave me, and I don’t need to be shy around him, but for some reason, the realization this is all ending soon has me not wanting to bare myself any further. I don’t want this all to end.

  His eyes blaze when I raise it higher, to my armpits, exposing my pink bra. Of course, traitors that they are, my nipples pick this moment to jut forward as his nimble fingers secure the wire between my breasts. I hold my breath, waiting for his next move.

  He looks up at me—such stunning eyes, full of greens and golds—and then he nips my nipple through the material of my bra. “All set.”

  This whole case could be wrapped up by tonight, and I’ll never get another chance to be with Vin again. My heart is so heavy, I can barely rise from the bed.

  I follow him downstairs, where he paces in the kitchen, giving me instructions for the millionth time, while I grab my foot-long stick of pepperoni.

  “It’s going to be ok,” I reassure him.

  He runs a hand through his hair, and nods. “Good luck, babe.”

  And then, I make the short trip to Miffie’s house, hoping his good luck wish works. So far, we’ve had none, and the department is breathing down our necks. The director is tired of us playing house up here in the Highlands, and wants us to bring this case to a close. Easier said than done. I want to bring this case to a close as well, but, whoever is laundering the mob’s money has all their bases covered.