Page 18 of A Little Bit Engaged
That was unbelievable. Especially considering the ruse Cara and Brody were trying to pull off. “Do you have any regrets over pretending?”
“Not as many as I should,” Cassie admitted, her cheeks tinged a charming pink. “I hated lying to my parents and the whole faking we were in love really wore me out, but I wouldn’t have Troy in my life if we hadn’t told people we were engaged when we weren’t.”
Cara didn’t know what to say, but she understood better than Cassie probably imagined. “I wish I could tell you—”
“Been there myself.” Compassion gleamed in Cassie’s blue eyes. “Whatever’s going on with you, your sister, and Brody, just know we’re here for you. No matter what you need.”
A grin tugged at Cara’s lips. Geoff had said the same thing. She appreciated knowing she wasn’t alone, even if she couldn’t tell her friends the truth. At least not yet. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
“I’ll be in the back if you need anything.”
As Cassie wove her way through the wooden shelves full of books, Cara thought about what her boss had said. Maybe playing the role of Brody’s fiancée wouldn’t be so bad. Not that she and Brody would have the same outcome to their charade as Cassie and Troy had, but Cara hoped pretending wouldn’t blow up in their faces as she feared. That the dread over the impending consequences would be minimal and making a clean break from Caitlin’s future demands would happen.
Still, Cara had her doubts. A shiver inched down her spine, continuing to the tips of her toes. Shaking those feelings might be as difficult as faking being Brody’s fiancée.
CHAPTER FIVE
Brody sat in the driver’s seat of the nondescript, four-door sedan that looked more like a prop from a detective or FBI television show than a rental car. No one passing by glanced his way, but why would they? All strangers could see was a guy wearing sunglasses, a faded baseball cap, and an oversized hoodie. The outfit was typical bro-wear, especially with his cargo shorts. What his assistant, Ainsley, called his incognito costume, but the disguise hadn’t failed him yet. He hoped today wouldn’t be the first time.
His phone rang, but Brody ignored it for the hundredth time that day. He had no statement to make. He didn’t want to talk to his agent or his publicist again. He just wanted to do what had to be done so he and Cara could move on.
The sooner, the better.
Once this is over, we’ll…I’ll…draw the line with Caitlin. Tell her we won’t fix her problems anymore.
You’ve been coming to her rescue for years. Will you be able to tell Caitlin you’re done saving her?
I have to unless I want to spend the rest of my life at Caitlin’s beck and call. I don’t want that.
He didn’t. Not for himself or Cara.
Which meant he couldn’t screw this up, for either of them.
Brody had nailed tougher roles than playing Cara’s adoring fiancé. How hard could pretending to be engaged to her be when she’d once been his best friend, closer to him than anyone?
Except the gnawing in his gut suggested this wouldn’t be a slam dunk because he needed her help to pull this off. And though she’d agreed earlier, she’d been hesitant and worried.
Typical of Cara.
But an anxious bride-to-be wouldn’t fly.
He wasn’t sure how to help her, though.
Eyeing the entrance to Cassandra’s Attic, he tapped his thumb against the steering wheel, but that did nothing to loosen the tension knotting his insides.
Pull yourself together, Simmons.
Maybe he was the one worrying too much. For all he knew, Cara had calmed down during her morning shift. If she hadn’t, she would have even more stress to deal with, especially after she discovered her twin-sister drama was not only trending, but also the hottest news of every internet gossip website.
Cara would hate that. Unlike Caitlin who’d called him an hour ago.
My Insta followers are up ten percent. Yours, too. Everyone loves a juicy scandal.
With a churning in his gut, Brody squeezed the steering wheel. Caitlin’s excitement with her growing popularity due to being a so-called victim rubbed him the wrong way, reaffirming his need to break free.
Cara stepped out of the bookstore. As she studied the cars parked along the curb, the expression on her face was the definition of worry.
He wanted to lessen the tight lines around her mouth by telling her no one had followed him thanks to Ainsley in L.A. who posted online that Brody had been spotted at a café in North Beach. The location must have been believable because the paparazzi had disappeared faster than mice scurrying toward a cheese board.
