Page 7 of His Fake Fiancé

That hadn’t stopped his mother from making enough food for an entire football team, though. Not that he was complaining. He was starving this morning.

He piled the food on his plate, his mouth watering. Mama was an excellent cook.

“Where’s Claire?”

Jake stopped, his fork held partway between his plate and his mouth. The question was a valid one. Over the years, Claire had probably spent more time over here than she had at her own house. Sunday mornings were usually a favorite of hers.

But, somehow, this morning, the idea of Claire being here felt off. And he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he and Claire were going to be lying to his family about the whole engaged thing. He still hadn’t decided how he was going to convince them he and Claire had taken things to the next level.

Part of him wasn’t sure they’d be able to pull it off. Mama wasn’t stupid. She’d most likely see right through it. And he honestly wasn’t sure what her reaction would be.

He slipped the piece of pancake into his mouth and chewed, making sure to do it slowly. Mama was disappointed about the circumstances around Olivia’s conception, even if she never actually said anything. The result of a one-night stand was probably not how she’d envisioned her first grandchild coming into the world.

Not that it hadn’t been a massive shock to him, too.

Especially since he’d only found out about his daughter after Gina had left her on his front porch with a note tucked into her carrier. She’d never even told him she was pregnant. And then, all of a sudden, he was a dad.

If it hadn’t been for his family, he would have been screwed. Mama had pretty much taken charge, with Claire and his sister-in-law, Grace, right behind her.

Mama stared at him, waiting for his answer about Claire. As he stalled, still chewing, her eyebrow slowly raised.

He swallowed the pancake. “She wasn’t feeling well last night, so she left early.” Of course, he left off the part about the kiss. He was still unsure about that whole thing. He hadn’t expected it to be so hot. The plan had been to show everyone he and Claire had moved beyond the friend-zone. It wasn’t supposed to affect him like it had.

Maybe this plan wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Maybe it was a good idea he’d decided to ease his family into the whole being engaged to Claire thing.

“Oh, I hope she’s okay.” Mama turned back to her breakfast and cut off a small piece of pancake. “Wait.” She put her fork and knife down. “You mean, you didn’t bring her home? Even though she was unwell? How did she get home then?”

He could tell by her tone he was in a big old heap of trouble. If there was anything Mama didn’t let fly, it was being rude or inconsiderate.

“Linc was there, and she got him to drive her home.” He took another big bite of pancake. Eating was better than figuring out the weird feeling in his chest at the idea he didn’t make sure Claire was okay last night. She’d told him she was, but then hightailed it out of there so fast, you would have thought she was being chased by an angry bull. He should have at least made sure she was okay. What kind of a fucking friend was he?

“Oh, that’s good, I guess,” Mama said, picking up her utensils and returning to her breakfast. “That Lincoln is such a sweet boy.”

Jake chewed, glad his mouth was full. Linc McKinney was many things, but sweet wasn’t one of them. The McKinneys were rough and tumble cowboys to the core. Probably had a lot to do to them being raised alone by their dad. Mrs. McKinney had died giving birth to Claire.

He’d always figured Claire not having a mom was why she spent so much time over here growing up. Mama had taken Claire under her wing and created a safe place where she could ask the questions that made the men in her life uncomfortable.

The front door opened and closed in the distance. Most likely Simon or Owen coming in for some food or a shower or something.

Olivia let out another, almost ear-piercing squeal. Jake looked up from his plate, and it was like someone punched him in the gut.

Claire stood in the kitchen doorway, her blonde hair loose and wavy around her shoulders. Her cheeks were pink and rosy, probably from the cold outside. She wore a fuzzy blue sweater and jeans, and he had the most ridiculous urge to reach out and see if the sweater was as soft as it looked.

“Oh, my goodness, baby girl,” she said, walking over to Olivia’s chair and brushing her lips across the top of the baby’s head. “That was quite the greeting.” She smiled and looked at Mama. “Sorry I’m late. It was a bit of a late night.”

“No worries, sweetheart,” Mama said with a smile. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

Confusion flickered across Claire’s face and then was gone. “I am thanks.” She pulled out the chair across from Jake and sat down. She wasn’t looking at him. In fact, it seemed like she was avoiding eye contact with him completely. A strange, unexpected ache burned through his chest.

He opened his mouth to say something, but for the first time in a long time, words failed him. He snapped his mouth shut, feeling out of sorts.

Mama looked from him to Claire and then back again, the groove between her eyebrows growing deeper by the second.

Claire kept her gaze locked on the table, sliding a pancake onto her plate to go along with the three slices of bacon she’d already grabbed. “Can you pass the syrup, please?”

She said the words so softly, he almost didn’t hear them over Olivia’s babble. He picked up the bottle and held it out to her. She reached for it, and their fingers brushed. His skin tingled. She made a squeaking noise and yanked her hand back so fast, it was almost like he’d burned her.

Mama lifted her napkin from her lap and placed it next to her plate. She folded her arms over her chest and sat back in her chair. Jake knew from plenty of experience they were in for it now.