EXCERPT
The heavy thunk of a door closing behind them
had both women turning to where Wicker Park’s top contractor had parked on the
other side of the fence. Sam Farrow rounded the hood of his truck, his wild mop
of golden blond catching in the breeze as his long-legged stride ate through
the distance between them. He was wearing the Maui Jim Pilot sunglasses Ava
bought him for Christmas, a white, long-sleeved T-shirt pushed up his
lean-muscled forearms and which hung half tucked over a pair of faded blues and
a thick brown leather belt. He was flashing an easygoing grin that was
practically his natural state of rest, but even from the distance, she could
see something wasn’t quite right.
Maggie waved. “Hi, Sam.”
“Everything okay?” Ava asked, moving her stuff to make room for him.
“Hey, Maggs,” he offered, dropping into the open seat, before
turning to Ava.
“I don’t know, Ave. There I am, walking the aisles of Home Depot,
deep in my happy place, when my phone rings and I answer it to Tony croaking
out, ‘Looks like Ava’s got a taste for some Tony potpie after all.’”
She cringed and swung around to Maggie. “You see why I need Tyler to
take me?”
Maggie let out an indelicate snort as she collected her stuff.
“Tyler’s back.”
Down the block, Tyler Wells—the borrowed date who apparently would not
be hers—rounded the corner at a steady jog and Maggie pushed up from her seat,
her eyes still on her fiancé, who definitely made running look good.
“Later, guys,” she said, heading out.
“Later.”
Sam stretched his arm across the back of the bench and then pulled
off his shades, revealing eyes the same color as the worn denim that had so
much been a part of his wardrobe since the first day Ava met him.
“Want to tell me why Tony thinks he’s got a date with you?”
Man,
he had the best eyes.
“Because you’re an asshat,” Ava stated flatly. “You totally
abandoned me. Left me completely high and dry, and after all the times I’ve
stood in for you when one of your whirlwind one-nighters suddenly decides she
wants more, like a month or forever? You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Sam was nodding, the grin on his face going wider with her every
word. “Right. Obviously, I’m the root cause. But maybe you could be a little
more specific about the how, what, when, and where of it?”
Ava snuggled in closer to him on the bench, because there was
nothing better than the clean smell of his Irish Spring soap, and he was warm
and she was a snuggler by nature, so it’s just what she did. And then she
proceeded to remind him about the law mixer she’d asked him to plus-one for,
how he’d turned her down, and how Steven—who wasn’t actually a
stalker, but had serious persistence issues—was going to be there and she
wanted to lose him as passively as possible.
Sam pulled his phone from his pocket, dialed, and then held it up to
his ear. “Hey, gorgeous. Can’t make it Friday. Rain check? . . . You’re
perfect, marry me . . . Yeah, well I’m still picking out china patterns.
Later.”
He stared down at her. “All you had to do was say it was serious.”
Ava gaped. “I did. In fact I think my exact words were, ‘Sam, this
is serious. I’m desperate.’”
He shook his head, all don’t-give-me-that. “Uh-uh. You know exactly
what I’m talking about. Every time you run out of Spicy Thai Kettle Chips, you
swear up and down it’s an emergency, and we both know it isn’t that
big a deal. You should have said it was Tony serious.”
Ava huffed but after an eye roll was willing enough to agree,
because it looked like her best buddy was going to bail her out after all.
“Fine. Sorry. I should have told you it was Tony serious.”
Not one to hold a grudge, Sam grinned. “I forgive you. So. What
exactly do you need me to do?”
Simple. “Pretend you love me.”
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