Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1)(41)

Nora sipped her drink, then set it back on the table. “I’d have paid good money to see that.”

“Agreed,” Hazel said.

As I sat with Nora and Hazel, chatting while we had a few drinks, I noticed something odd. No men approached our table. It wasn’t like we got hit on every time we went out. But to be fair, it was rare to go a night in a place like this without someone showing an interest in at least one of us.

Tonight, it was as if the giant diamond on my finger acted as a man-repellent. Granted, the theme was anti-love—a celebration of being single. But I could tell that wasn’t it. More than once I noticed a man eying our table, only to turn away as soon as his gaze found my left hand. No one approached Nora or Hazel, either, as if my ring created an invisible barrier that extended all the way around our little table.

I didn’t mind, of course. I was here to spend time with my girlfriends, not meet someone. The relationship was fake, but I still wasn’t going to cheat on Shepherd. When this was over, I could think about venturing back into the murky waters of the dating pool.

That thought made my shoulders slump and a sad feeling curl its way through my tummy. Svetlana was sure to lose interest in her game sooner rather than later, if Richard didn’t decide to end it first. How long did we have? A few more weeks? A month? Glancing at the ring on my finger, I thought about going back to my apartment. Sleeping in my own bed again—alone. Only seeing Shepherd at work. Everything going back to normal.

Why did that make me so sad?

Pushing those thoughts from my mind—although they still simmered in the background—I focused on enjoying the night with my girls.





The bed was empty when I woke up. Like I did every morning, I glanced around to see if Shepherd was here. Sleeping next to him had become much more comfortable—I wasn’t going to think about how much I enjoyed the sound of his soft breathing—but I still felt awkward in the morning. I didn’t want to roll out of bed with one of my boobs hanging out of my tank top or look up to find him naked after a shower.

Okay, that second one wouldn’t have been so bad. But the boob thing was a real issue. Tank tops had a way of playing peek-a-boob on me while I slept.

He wasn’t in the bedroom, and the bathroom door was ajar, the light off. It was safe to get up.

I used the bathroom, then changed into a t-shirt and my weekend shorts—they were too worn and faded to wear in public, but they were so comfortable, I couldn’t get rid of them. I put my hair in a bun just to get it off my neck, slid my feet into my fuzzy yellow slippers, and went in search of coffee and breakfast.

Shepherd was in his office, absorbed in something on his laptop. I hesitated in front of his half-open door, debating whether to ask if he wanted breakfast. But he looked so busy, I didn’t want to interrupt.

The kitchen in this place was magnificent. I wasn’t a gourmet cook by any stretch, but I did enjoy cooking a nice meal. And in this expanse of maple, stainless steel, and granite, cooking was a pleasure. The long countertops gave me plenty of space, and everything was top of the line.

I’d anticipated my Sunday-morning-after-girls’-night need for bacon and eggs—I was nothing if not a planner—so I had everything I needed. I made myself a cup of coffee and got to work.

Just as I was heating the pan for the bacon, Richard wandered in, already dressed for the day in a casual shirt and pants. He leaned against the counter, a mug of coffee in his hand.

“Morning.” His eyes crinkled with his smile. Shepherd looked so much like him, but the physical resemblance seemed to be where their similarities ended. It made me wonder why Shepherd was so serious all the time.

“Good morning. Sleep well?”

“Yes, for the most part,” he said.

It didn’t escape my attention that Richard was alone. No Svetlana. Had he spent less time with her this last week? She hadn’t been here in a few days, and she never spent the night. I’d be so relieved when Richard was finally free of her talons, even though I knew what it would mean for me.

I laid a strip of bacon in the pan and it sizzled. “What are you up to today?”

“I’m supposed to take it easy, but I think I’ll get out for a walk. The weather’s nice.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Can I make you some breakfast first?”

“Tempting, but no.” He patted his trim waist. “I have to be more careful about what I eat these days.”

“Fair enough.” I put more bacon in the pan and poked it with tongs to spread it out.

Richard took a sip of his coffee. “You should see if you can get Shep outside. He works too much.”

“He really does, doesn’t he?”

“That’s probably my fault. I didn’t set a very good example. His mother and I both spent most of our energy on our careers when the boys were young.”

I perked up at the mention of both a young Shepherd and his mother as I stepped to the sink to wash my hands. Shepherd rarely mentioned his mom. Of course, before the night of the gala, I hadn’t known anything about his family. He kept so many things to himself.

“What was he like when he was little?”

Richard tilted his head, a wistful expression crossing his features. “He was a good kid. Got good grades, didn’t cause a lot of trouble. He was… focused. He’s a lot like his mother.”