“You dislike me that much?” Brayden asked, as if hurt.
“What? I don’t dislike you.”
“You’ve been avoiding me for two weeks. If it weren’t for Ed, you’dstillbe avoiding me. Why?”
Because Ava wasnotabout to answer that question, she gave in to the lesser evil. “Fine. Pictures. But be warned, it won’t end there. You’ll be dragged into a Christmas sweater Skype event too.”
“Sounds fun.”
Ava laughed. “You really have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, do you?”
“Desperate times. And both our moms will be thousands of miles away. How hard could it be to pull it off? At least until Christmas is over. Then we can tell them it was all a joke if you want. Get a rise out ofthemfor a change.”
“Pictures,” Ava muttered, wondering how she could convince her mom the relationship was real if she didn’t post about it on her social media. “Why did I ever teach my mom how to use Facebook?”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.” She could head off Chase, beg him to play along for the sake of her sanity. Bribe him with the Bonita’s Christmas cranberry scones if necessary. And Kinley. Surely she’d play along for Ava’s sake. A few pictures and one Christmas sweater virtual event. Simple enough. Ava slipped off her hat and fluffed out her hair. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Brayden laughed again.
“What?”
“You don’t know my mother. It has to be convincing.”
“Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“No.” He said the word so quickly, she knew he meant it. “It’s just my mom, she’s not easily fooled. Couples do things together. We need to look more like a couple. And I’m in my pajamas, in case you didn’t notice.”
Ava approached the living room window because shehadnoticed. An enormous relief swept through her when she spotted Ed finally headed toward the trees, even if he was taking his sweet time leaving. This fake relationship, no matter how simple, was a bad idea. But her buzzing purse cemented her decision. “Fine. I’ll be home this afternoon.”
“I’ll be here.”
Dashing for the front door, Ava asked, “Think you can get out of your jammies by then?”
“I might even shower.” He held his Christmas mug in toast. “See you later, fake girlfriend.”
ChapterTwo
Brayden
Brayden kept an eye on Ed as Ava drove away, mercifully without incident.
“What a sly ol’ moose, huh, Elsie?” He scratched the golden’s ears as she leaned against his legs. He hated every minute of awkwardness that emerged after giving Ava that darn letter. Their fractured friendship had been nearly repaired until that mailbox mix-up. Every day she avoided him since he almost flung the foreclosure notice at her riddled him with guilt.
Yes, he read it.
But not on purpose.
He doubted Ava would accept it had been an accident. A result of letting his own mail stack up so high in his mailbox that he went through the envelopes on autopilot. He never would’ve opened her letter if he noticed it wasn’t addressed to him.
He told her he hadn’t read it, if only to save her embarrassment. But he knew her store—the Forget Me Not Boutique—was days from foreclosure. Ten, to be precise. Ava wasn’t one to accept help without a fight, either. Her pride often stood in the way for simple things, like offering to carry in groceries or shovel her steps. She had no idea he could write a check for the delinquent balance and hardly notice a dent in his bank account. Even if he offered, she’d scoff at him.
Instead, he’d placed dozens of online orders in his grandma’s name, shipping them to Austin for her to share with the other condo dwellers in her retirement community. Just last week she warned him that if he sent one more batch of moose ornaments, her neighbors might revolt. He compromised by sending a round of forget-me-not wreaths.
Brayden returned to his empty coffee cup, making a mental note that he hadn’t shipped Grandma any ofthoseyet. He glanced about his living room, sparsely decorated except for the holiday decor Ava stocked. He’d seen her look around, noticing her things in his home. Thank goodness, she hadn’t seen his spare room where twice as much was piled in boxes.
He reached in the cookie jar—a moose sitting on a log—and pulled out one of the homemade dog treats Ava also sold. “Sit,” he said, holding it up for Elsie to see. She promptly dropped her butt to the floor, tail swishing softly on the hardwood. He tossed it to her, following it with another shortly after. He’d stockpiled so many dog treats that he had to freeze some.
