“You ready to go?”
“Yep.” Still arm in arm, she bumped him with her shoulder. “Thank you for doing that.”
“Of course.”
“No, really. I’m sure you have plans with— What did you call her?”
“Curves.”
“Right, anyway, tonight turned out to be all about me. I don’t feel like you got anything out of it.
He waggled his brows. “I still could.”
She smiled. “Rules!”
“Ha! Those were shot to hell and back hours ago, don’t you think?”
“Nope, securely in place, but if you want to go out…you know, to wherever you go to pick up girls, I could be your wingman.”
“You’d go to Pulse?” He perked up a bit.
She’d never been there before. Too upscale. Brooke had done the research once, but at twenty-five bucks a pop, one drink ate up a tank of gas and wouldn’t even give her a buzz. “If that’s where you go.”
He seemed to consider it for a moment, then lowered his head. “Thanks for offering, but you’re looking too hot in that dress. I’d be too busy beating off guys trying to hit on you to focus on getting laid.”
Heat bloomed in her chest, but she ignored it.
“But if you don’t mind,” he added, “I’m starving, and I don’t really want to eat by myself.”
“Then let me buy you dinner.”
“Or I could eat you instead.”
She laughed, even as the heat in her chest spread to her lower belly. “Don’t even think about it, fuckboy.”
He grunted. “You were quick on your feet earlier when I forgot your name,Jo, but I’d like to see you explain fuckboy to my parents.”
Nick stepped away from a group of men. He held up his phone. “Marcus just sent this. Seems someone in the lobby took it, and it’s making the rounds on socials.”
Jo wasn’t sure what to make of his expression, whether he was angry or indifferent. She peered down at the screen of his phone. Hers had been blowing up again, so she’d silenced it completely. Now, she knew why.
A picture of her and Avery on the hotel’s grand staircase made her moment of panic appear intimate. His hands cupping her face. Her staring up at him as if he hung the moon. The caption read, “Preston Playboy OTM: Hearts Are Breaking.” The article began with, “Who is the ravishing redhead? Where did she come from? And how has she brought down Houston’s billionaire bad boy?”
Fuck. If one could believe social media, she’d just been promoted from Avery’s fake date to his fake girlfriend.
Chapter Eight
Avery might not have been worried about the complications of the social media debacle, but Jo’scomplicationscontinued to flood in that night and over the days that followed. Texts she ignored turned into calls she didn’t answer.
“Can’t you turn the damn thing off?” Brooke muttered as she stopped counting choux buns. “I keep having to start over every time it rings.”
“No.” Jo plugged in her grandma’s mixer and wondered what she would have said about all the mess she’d gotten herself into. “Avery might call.”
“Ooh, can’t miss Avery’s call,” Brooke teased, then gasped. “Wait. That means you have a special ringtone for him.”
Jo rolled her eyes and tested the temperature of the ganache she’d left cooling. Perfect. Control in small things steadied her when everything else felt noisy and unstable. “How else would I tell his call from the others?”
“Uh-uh.” Brooke planted her hands on her hips. “Since when does he call, and since when do you worry about him calling?”
