Page 30 of Frosted Fakes

"Then something bland. Love. Darling. Something generic." Elliott rubbed her temples. "This is ridiculous."

"You wanted to practice."

"I wanted to establish a cover story. I didn't want to debate 'sweetheart' versus 'babe.'"

"I vote neither."

"Agreed." Elliott straightened. "Right. Physical contact. We need to be comfortable with it."

Julia's expression did something complicated. "Like what?"

"Hand-holding. Standing close." Elliott held out her hand, trying to ignore her accelerating heart rate. "Come on."

Julia stared at Elliott's hand like it might bite. Then she stood and crossed the space between them.

Her hand was warm sliding into Elliott's. Soft, delicate fingers that had probably never done real work. Elliott's palm was rough from years of kneading dough, handling hot equipment. The contrast was noticeable.

They stood there holding hands, and Elliott tried to think clinically. Practice. Preparation. Nothing real.

Except Julia's hand was very warm. And her thumb was doing this unconscious stroking thing against Elliott's knuckles that was distracting.

"This is weird," Julia said.

"Extremely." Elliott squeezed once, then let go before she thought too hard about it. "But necessary. If we can't hold hands without looking tortured, your mother will see through us."

"She'll see through us anyway."

"Not if we're convincing." Elliott met Julia's eyes. "The more real this looks, the better. For both of us."

For both of us. That was key. The more Gabby Richardson believed this relationship, the more she'd see Elliott as part of Julia's life. Part of the business. And if Elliott became indispensable, if Gabby saw her as talented and worthy…

Maybe Elliott would finally get the recognition she'd been working toward.

Strategic. Practical. Nothing more.

A knock came from downstairs.

"That'll be Tara," Elliott said. "Time to perform."

TARA WAS ARRANGING pastries when they came down. She looked up, her eyes immediately tracking the distance between them.

"Morning," Tara said.

"Morning." Julia grabbed her apron. "How are you?"

"Fine." Tara's voice was flat.

Elliott studied her. The beanie pulled low over her cropped hair. The hunched shoulders. The averted eyes. Something was off, had been since the haircut.

"Sleep well?" Elliott asked.

"Sure." Tara didn't look up.

Awkward silence. Julia rushed to fill it. "So Elliott and I were discussing…um…"

"The fact you're dating?" Tara's voice held amusement. "Yeah, you’ve got a bit of work to do if you’re going to convince your mum of that."

Julia went red. Elliott felt her own face warm.