Page 62 of His Fake Fiancé

The photo was gorgeous. The way the light streamed through the window and framed the baby was absolutely breathtaking. The angle of the shot, the way the colors played off each other, the focus and the exposure, all incredible. Like, professional quality incredible. Magazine spread incredible. Award winning incredible.

If she hadn’t seen Jake take the photos, she would have thought it was professionally done. The question was, if Jake was so talented, why was he keeping it a secret? He clearly had a gift.

She added up the last of the columns, verified they matched the bank records, and then closed the ledger. Her eyes ached, both from staring at the books all day, and lack of sleep. She rubbed at them, hoping to alleviate some of the pain, but it didn’t help. The only good thing about this last week was that the turmoil had awakened her muse, and she’d written some of the best songs ever. Really gut-wrenching stuff.

At least something in her life hadn’t gone to complete shit.

The door opened behind her, and she inwardly groaned. She’d been hoping to make it back to the house, and more specifically her room, without running into anyone. She’d managed to be a virtual hermit around here the last week, spending the majority of her time in her room, mainly because she didn’t want to have to explain herself or what was going on to anyone. It was nobody’s business, except for her and Jake’s.

“Hey, Chicken,” Brock said, and patted her shoulder. “How are you doing today?”

She blew out a breath. Of all of her brothers, Brock was the least likely to pry.

He opened the filing cabinet and rifled through one of the files. She turned to ask what he was looking for so she could help him find it, and get him the hell out of here.

“Problems with Jake?”

So much for not being the one to pry.

“Nope.” The lie slipped out smoothly. Maybe her days of being a terrible liar were behind her. Was that something to celebrate, or should she be ashamed?

“Then how come you’ve been moping around here for the last week? I swear, this is the longest in your life you’ve gone without seeing Jake Callahan.” Brock continued rifling through the file, not looking at her.

How depressing was that? And, no matter how hard she wanted to, she couldn’t actually deny it. They’d gone to school together from kindergarten through senior year. After they’d graduated, they fell into a comfortable pattern that included a couple of nights at the bar every week. That didn’t include the shopping trips, or the movie nights, or the spontaneous video game tournaments.

“We just had a difference of opinion.” She shrugged, although she didn’t feel all that nonchalant on the inside. “On a number of things.”

Brock sat in their dad’s chair, and Claire inwardly groaned again. Definitely not getting out of this one so easily. She turned her chair to face him.

He was staring at her, his blue eyes far too sharp for her liking. “Do you love him?”

The question was quiet, but filled up the entire room, the words dangling from the rafters like dusty cobwebs.

She’d spent all this time thinking she was so smooth, so slick, because no one—with the exception of KC, whom she told when she was a love sick teenager—knew how she felt about Jake. It had apparently all been a lie. The only person who didn’t seem to know how she felt about Jake Callahan was Jake Callahan.

There was no way she was admitting to anything, though. Time to put those newfound lying skills to the test. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Okay, not quite the denial she’d planned. So much for her life as an accomplished liar.

Brock crossed his arms. “It always is. But that’s not an answer.”

Since when did Brock get so chatty? “What do you want, Brock?”

“I want you to answer the question. Do you love Jake Callahan?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips pressed together in a straight line. It was his tell-me-truth-or-I’ll-pummel-the-truth-out-of-you look. Not that he’d ever pummel her, but his massive size, coupled with the bulk of his winter coat, made him extremely intimidating. Too bad for him she knew he was a huge teddy bear.

But there was no way he was going to let her get away without answering him. With her luck, he’d probably sick Jax and Linc on her in order to get to the truth. She could try to lie again, maybe get up and walk away just to see what he’d do, but she was tired. Too tired for any of this. She blew out a breath. “Yes, I love him.”

He nodded, like he was satisfied, even though he already knew the answer. “I’m not going to pretend to know what’s going on between you two, or how you fix it or anything like that.” He stood and picked up his hat, which he must have tossed on the desk when he came in, spinning it in a circle. “But, take it from me, you don’t want to let things go without saying how you feel. That’s the kind of regret that will eat at you for the rest of your life.”

With that, he patted her shoulder again, marched to the door, plopped his hat on his head, and left.

Claire stared at the door after he’d gone, all kinds of feelings that had nothing to do with her or Jake, tumbling through her. Brock was not a touchy, feely kind of guy. And he definitely didn’t share his feelings or anything like that. For him to even say any of that meant… crap, she didn’t even know what it meant.

But his eyes had definitely been haunted, and there’d been that underlying regret he’d been talking about in his voice. He’d been hurt—was still hurting—and that made her ache in sympathy. Her barely-bark-and-no-bite brother was in pain.

She had a feeling that all of this had nothing to do with Jamie or their relationship.

Her phone rang and she picked it up off the edge of the desk. Jake’s face flashed on the screen. For a second, she thought about sending him to voicemail, but at the last second, she changed her mind. He hadn’t actually called before, had only sent text messages, and she didn’t want to be petty, in case it was an emergency.