Not that I could have lied to my best friend. The only reason I’ve been able to do any of this is because King and I are, technically, married, so I haven’t had to lie to anyone. Technically.
King doesn’t seem particularly thrilled about my friend inviting herself on our ring-buying excursion, and I’m pretty sure he’s about to say as much, so I speak first. “That’s a good idea, Cece. You’ll be able to help me find a good one. Who’s driving?”
“Your car scares me,” King says without hesitation. “I’m driving.”
Cecily laughs out loud as she tucks her arm through mine and follows King out to the front. “I’m glad it’s not just me! I almost didn’t let her drive away in that thing.”
“My car is fine,” I complain, even if they’re probably right. I didn’t need a car in New York, but when Lane broke up with me and kicked me out of the company, I needed something to run away in. I bought the first car I came across, which in hindsight wasn’t the best idea.
“Honey.” Cecily doesn’t say anything else until we’re halfway through the lobby, probably because she’s too busy taking everything in as we walk. “I think you’d better let your husband spoil you and get you something that won’t fall apart if you drive it over thirty miles per hour.”
King glances back when he reaches the door but doesn’t respond.
I jab my elbow into Cecily’s side. “I know what you’re doing,” I hiss, even if that’s a lie. She’s the sort of person who likes to think she knows what’s best for people, which in turn leads to her making decisions for those people. She didn’t put up this much of a fuss about my car back in New York, no matter what she says, and she’s talking far louder than necessary.
Something in the lobby sparked her comment, and my money is on Mrs. Vanderman.
When we step outside onto the boardwalk, King pauses and folds his arms without a word. Before I can ask why, someone else speaks up.
“Nice to see you’re both still alive and unharmed.”
I grit my teeth. “Coop.”
He nods his head once, leaning against the side of the bakery and looking for all the world like a man without a care. He has the classic California surfer-boy look, with his wavy blond hair and board shorts, and from what I’ve heard from people coming into the bakery, he’s every bit the devil-may-care guy I remember. He flies tourists around to the nearby islands, but beyond that I get the sense that he doesn’t do much with his life.
Coop’s eyes are full of laughter as he glances between King and me, and then he looks over at Cecily. Interest sparks to life in his expression. “Who do we have here?”
“A happily married woman,” Cecily replies easily. “So keep your eyes to yourself.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Coop is coming with us,” King says on a sigh.
“I thought you might need a buffer,” Coop says. “Though, looks like you found one yourself.”
Cecily extricates herself from my arm, somehow managing to push me into King’s side at the same time she steps closer to Coop. I have to grab King’s arm to keep from falling over. “What’s your take on this little marriage?” she asks Coop.
He frowns and looks around to make sure there’s no one to overhear our conversation. It’s still early enough in the day that the boardwalk isn’t overflowing with people yet. “I give it another week,” he says with a chuckle.
Cecily hums thoughtfully. “Interesting.”
“Can we go?” I ask, but my words falter when I realize I’m no longer holding King’s arm but his hand. When did that happen?
King looks as concerned as I am, though he’s smart enough to keep a hold of me now that we’re holding hands. There are probably people watching us through the bakery windows, Mrs. Vanderman included, and there’s no telling who else may be noticing our little conversation on the boardwalk. “Yes, we can go,” he says and leads me toward the parking lot.
Neither of us look back to see if our friends are following us.
Chapter Twelve
King
“I still don’t see why you’re going to all this trouble,” Coop says as he fiddles with a display of gimmicky rings, some made of seashells and some shaped like turtles, among other things.
I figured going to an actual jeweler would end with us empty-handed, given neither Georgie nor I want to spend a lot of money on these rings, so I picked a tourist shop not far from one of the many Willow Cove beaches. They have some nice stuff, but there’s also a lot of cheesy options like the ones Coop is playing with.
I sigh and glance across the store to where Georgie and her friend are deep in conversation while they peruse a shelf full of little trinkets. I’m not sure what to make of Cecily, but Georgie seems a lot happier than she has the last couple of days. Not that I’ve seen her often enough to really make a judgment call on her happiness, but she’s not the sort of person who can hide what she’s feeling.
Her smile hasn’t been completely real since the morning Prince Harry escaped.
My heart throbs in my chest, the same thing it’s done every time I’ve seen my temporary wife. Turns out avoiding her has done nothing to curb my returning feelings for her, and I’m going to have to come up with another strategy for survival. I’m pretty sure being away from her has only made things worse.
“We have to make sure Vanderman thinks we’re in this for good,” I tell Coop. “Rings will make it all seem more authentic.” I blamed this excursion on Coop, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about getting Georgie a ring since Beck mentioned it last night at the pool hall.
Coop slips a turtle ring onto his little finger and holds it up to admire it. “Why didn’t you just give her the ring you bought ten years ago? I know you still have it.”
A jolt of terror spurs me forward, and I clap a hand over his mouth as if that might stop him from saying what he just said. Georgie and Cecily look over in curiosity, but I ignore them as Coop tries to struggle out of my hold. “How do you know that?” I hiss.
We scuffle until he gets himself free and scowls at me. “I don’t need to breathe. It’s fine.”
“Answer the question, Heyes.”
“Because I helped you move into your house, you moron.” He straightens his t-shirt and pushes his hair out of his face. “And I might have rifled through your underwear drawer a time or two.”
I groan. “Why do I put up with you?”
“Because you and I are the same, man. We’d be alone without each other.”
