Fix Her Up (Hot & Hammered #1)(53)

In her nap haze and rush to get out of the house, she’d completely neglected to research how everyone had found out about her and Travis. “Which photo is this?”

“Take your pick! There’s like . . .” Bethany snatched an iPad off the marble countertop and swiped across the screen with a furious finger. “Eleven. Twelve—”

Oh no. This is bigger than I thought it would be. Georgie’s stomach pitched as she crossed the room. “Let me see.” One glance at the screen and she was rolling her eyes. “This isn’t viral. This is the Port Times Record.”

“It’s viral for Port Jefferson,” Bethany shot back. “And the picture where you’re telling off that man in the bar made SportsCenter, so it’s not contained to the local news. It was on Plays of the Week, Georgie. Mom said Dad almost choked on a chicken bone.”

Georgie hopped up onto a kitchen stool, marveling over the face staring back at her from the glass screen. Was that her looking so fiercely passionate? Yes, it was. And she couldn’t find it in her to regret defending Travis. Not for a second. Her belly couldn’t help but flip at the kissing picture, even though she knew the sentiment behind it was contrived. Their affection was all for the camera. Her heart started pounding nonetheless when she landed on the final picture. Travis staring after her in the parking lot with an expression she’d never seen on his gorgeous face before. Maybe it was the camera angle. Travis would never be wistful for her. Not in this lifetime. “Um,” she rasped. “So Dad choked on a chicken bone?”

Bethany slapped her hands on the counter. “What is going on?”

“We went on a date.” Looking for an ally, Georgie turned to Rosie, who feigned fascination with an untouched shot glass of tequila. “We decided that was allowed.”

“It is. But him, Georgie? Travis?”

“Yes. Travis.” Indignation rose up in her swift and furious. It wasn’t just the couple in the bar. It was everyone, wasn’t it? The whole world thought of him as some brainless sex symbol. So much so that he had to date the town’s dopey birthday party clown so people would . . . take him seriously. They both wanted the exact same thing, didn’t they? That did it. She wouldn’t tell a single soul their relationship wasn’t real. She’d be out and proud about her fake boyfriend. “You haven’t spent time with him since he came back. He’s done being thought of as a player.”

“Yeah, but is he done being one?” Bethany gave a long exhale. Georgie could tell she was dying to put in another two cents, but she managed to refrain. “I’m guessing you haven’t spoken to Mom. She has dibs on this kind of information and ESPN scooped her. You’re going to get Guilt Face at Sunday dinner next weekend.”

Georgie started. Their family was close, but with everyone so busy, their dinners were more of the spontaneous variety. Georgie would pop in for lunch or Stephen would bring bagels by and fill their father’s need for business talk. Formal dinners with everyone in attendance occurred only when someone organized a summit. “Sunday dinner? Who called it?”

“Me. I’m breaking the news to everyone that I’m striking out on my own.” Bethany sent Georgie a look down her nose. “If you’d been here on time, you’d know that.”

“Sorry. I’ll be there. Solidarity and all that. Yada yada.”

“Are you bringing Travis?”

Her skin flushed. Bring Travis to a family dinner? Why not just hang herself in a museum so everyone could walk by and pick her apart? “I’ll ask him.”

Rosie rubbed a circle into her back. “Did you go on your date with the fireplace guy?”

“No. Something came up,” she hedged. And looking over at Rosie and her soft, encouraging expression, Georgie encountered a swift kick of guilt. “Rosie, I have to tell you something. I really have no excuse for not calling you sooner . . . I’ve just been so distracted. But you can punch me in the stomach afterward, if you need to.”

Rosie drew back her hand slowly. “What is it?”

“Dominic knows about the newspapers under the mattress. He mentioned it to Travis.” She gave her friend an apologetic look. “You need to find a new hiding spot.”

Two spots of color appeared on Rosie’s cheeks. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why should you be sorry?” Rosie gestured to the bottle of tequila with the international symbol for “pour.” “I mean, you’re not the grown man ignoring his wife, instead of just asking her questions and having a normal conversation. That would be too much to ask for. Stupid . . . jackass.”

Rosie slapped a hand over her mouth.

After pouring a round of shots, Bethany picked up a pen and scratched some notes on a nearby legal pad. “We’re going to have to meet twice this week. No way we can cover cock talk and get important things done—”

“Bethany?” Georgie said.

“What?”

“Lose the agenda.”

Her older sister primly set aside the work pad. “Might I suggest, Rosie, that instead of hiding newspapers under the mattress, tomorrow you leave a dead rat in their place?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of my vibrator. It’s capable of more affection than Dominic lately.” Rosie split a look between them. “Tequila makes me overshare.”