Fake It Till You Bake It(33)

“I don’t know,” she said in a small, hopeful voice, her eyes downcast.

“We’re not dating.”

“I know that, Donovan,” she said through stiff lips. That brief, yet scorching hot kiss notwithstanding.

“I don’t do reality TV. I do as little social media as possible.”

“You don’t?” What must that be like? “Are you eighty?”

That muscle in his jaw jerked again. “No, I’m someone who has a lot going on and made a decision to concentrate on more important things.”

“Oh.” Right. Some people did make that decision.

“In other words, I don’t care what she posts.”

“Yep, got that.” She reached across the desk, clutching his hand. “But you have to.”

He stared down at their clasped hands for a second before raising his eyes, now inscrutable, up. “Why?”

“Because I know how powerful social media is.” She closed her eyes for a beat. This was not the time for pride. “And I’m asking for your help.”

“Which means what exactly?”

“That you won’t blow up my spot.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked again. “Which means what exactly?”

“That if someone asks if we’re dating, you don’t look at them like they’ve asked if Sugar Blitz’s cupcakes are nasty.”

His lips twitched, just a little, but she caught it. “So you want me to lie.”

“You know, the word ‘lie’ has such weight attached to it.”

His dark eyes flashed. “As it should.”

“I’m not asking you to lie, just don’t … deny it.”

“Oh, my God, this is ridiculous. I’m seriously worrying about some strange woman coming into my store claiming she’s going to go viral with a video of me kissing my newest employee who said I was her someone special. Do I have that right?” For a moment, he looked overwhelmed by what she’d put him through over the past few days.

Jada’s shoulders hunched forward. Her vision blurred for a second. Here it came. He really was going to fire her now. “Yeah.”

He sighed. “Jada.”

Yep, it was coming. She’d heard that sigh her entire life. Her parents had mastered it, but she’d heard the same from teachers, friends, employers. And now Donovan. But could she blame him?

First, she’d burned his cupcakes, now she’d invaded his personal life. Speaking of … she gasped. “Do you have a significant other or a spouse?” Her stomach twisted at the thought. But only because she never wanted to be a party in adultery, not because the thought of him touching someone else, loving someone else bothered her.

Now he did look at her like she’d asked him if he thought the cupcakery’s offerings were gross. “No. Do you think I’d kiss you, sad, puppy dog eyes be damned, if I had someone waiting for me at home?”

She shrugged. “I mean … I don’t know.”

“Exactly. We don’t know each other. Which is why it makes no sense for us to pretend to date or whatever you have in mind. We literally met three days ago.” He paused. “Were you serious about not having a special someone at home?”

She nodded. All of her exes were exes for a reason. All disasters better left in the past. She didn’t have any close male friends who she could call to help bail her out of her latest mess.

“Oh. Well.” He sighed again. “No, sorry, can’t do it. It doesn’t make sense and is ripe for disaster. I have too much going on to be courting disaster. I run my life to be orderly. I have a plan to be successful. I’ve stuck to the plan—mostly—for the past fifteen years, and the plan is working. I can’t be distracted. I won’t be distracted. I’m not going to worry about some strange woman coming into my shop saying she’s going to go viral.”

Jada lifted her chin even as her hopes plummeted to the soles of her Crocs. “Okay, then. I understand.”

And she did, but that didn’t change facts. Looked like she was on her own. Nothing new there. She knew something about survival. This was yet another obstacle in a lifetime of obstacles. If she felt a little more alone this time because she’d felt a bit of connection when they’d kissed, then faced nosy Tamara together, then it was all in her head. And he was right. She was a big distraction.

She’d gotten herself in this mess. She’d get herself out. Without Donovan’s help. Somehow.



* * *



At 7:15 P.M., Donovan walked into his house. August was closing Sugar Blitz tonight. Donovan huffed out a breath. Thank God. He was beat. He wanted nothing more than to pop one of the high-protein, nutrient-rich meals his chef prepared for him into the microwave and eat it on his patio as he listened to and watched the ocean waves crashing against the beach. He headed to the kitchen, ready to put his plan into action.

At 7:18 P.M., right when he’d made the decision to go with steak over pasta carbonara, his phone rang. He gave a moment’s thought to not answering, but it was his baby sister, Sloane. He’d always looked out for her, especially given the chaos they’d grown up in, and he’d never been able to stop even though she was now an adult. He dropped into a dining table chair and answered. “Hey, what’s up?”