She smiled. “I picked the right woman for the job.”
I held in a groan. One more session. I’d do one more session for her.
The waitress came by and took our orders. When she left, I said, “So is he? The kind of guy to honor a pact?”
“If Eli said he wouldn’t lie, he won’t,” she said.
“Good.”
“But maybe we need a backup plan as well,” Tara said, thinking. “How can we get her to know you two are strangers without outright telling her?” Her eyes shot to the door over my shoulder. “Oh no.”
“What?” I asked, looking too.
“It’s like they know we’re talking about them.”
Elijah and Michael walked in, side by side, scanning the room. I rolled my eyes. Clovis was a small town, but not thissmall. “Did they know we were going to be here together?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “They probably don’t want us scheming. Also, they work up the street.”
“They work together?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, but before she could say more, Michael was leaning over and placing a soft kiss on her lips.
“Hey, babe,” he said.
Tara slid down the bench like she was going to welcome them into our brunch. I gave her a look that said,If you want to win this bet, I need to spend as little time as possible with this man.
In high school, she was so good at reading my looks. But now she was unpracticed because she just gave me a confused face back. I sighed when Elijah gestured for me to scoot over, but I inched down the bench anyway.
“Good morning, fake fiancée,” he said.
“Itwas,” I replied.
He laughed.
“Sutton was just giving me a report on the therapy session.”
“One down, three to go, baby,” Elijah said, and he and his brother high-fived over the table.
I watched Michael closely, the way he brushed a piece of hair off Tara’s forehead, how he smiled while she talked. He seemed sweet and attentive. I wondered if it was Tara’s past that was making her nervous or if there were red flags she was worried about.
The waitress came back. “Do you two want to order something?”
“They aren’t stay—” I started to say.
“Do you serve burgers this early?” Elijah asked over the top of me.
“I want one of your breakfast skillets,” Michael said.
Okay, apparently, theywerestaying. I must’ve sighed again because Elijah gave me a sideways glance. “Try not to be too welcoming,” he said. “You might hurt yourself.”
I gave him a forced smile. The less I said, the less he’d know.
CHAPTER 7
I was doing well with my saying-less plan but was having a hard time listening less. And listening meant I was learning things about Elijah Russo. Things like the fact his last name was Russo. That he and his brother ran a boxing gym, which surprised me. They didn’t dress like they worked at a boxing gym. I wasn’t sure how people who ran a boxing gym dressed (lived-in hoodies and mesh shorts?), but it definitely didn’t involve loafers. He and Michael had a sister who lived in Washington. Apparently, she moved there after graduating. They grew up here… well, north of here, in a big house on the bluffs. Or at least that’s what I gathered from how they were talking—the parties they threw, their pool, their land.
But even when Elijah wasn’t speaking, I was learning things about him. Eating a meal with someone tended to provide insights into their preferences and opinions. Like the fact that he didn’t like tomatoes and thought french fries were overrated. I almost chimed in with an emphatic counterargument to the french fry position but held my tongue. I also left themushrooms on my omelet, even though I had strong feelings about those as well, so he couldn’t learn things about me.
