Faked (Ward Family #2)(9)

If it was Lia, she would've cursed like a sailor the moment she saw me, reacting in the exact amount of time it took me to realize that I was now bound to spend an evening with her identical twin. What was her name ...?

Clarissa.

No, Clara.

I gave her a sideways look as she walked next to me, trying desperately to pretend she wasn't about ready to lose her mind.

Claire. That was it. Claire and Lia. I'd heard their names said in the same breath often enough by Golden Boy. As we walked in awkward silence, I racked my brain for what I could remember about her.

Not much, I thought with a frown.

A student. Somewhere. Majoring in ... something smart sounding.

I rolled my eyes. No wonder nobody invited me places.

"And you said Finn is sick?" she asked.

Humming my agreement, I stepped behind her so that I could open the passenger side door of my Jeep for her. With furrowed brows, she glanced from the open door, to my hand, to my face, and then did the loop over again.

"Deathly," I told her. "Not even his mom's famous chicken noodle soup will be able to cure what ails him."

As I said it, I gave her a quick glance because Lia would know that Adele was a terrible cook.

"I wonder why he didn't call," she muttered.

Call her sister, was what she meant, but as she carefully held together the massive slit in the dress that almost exposed the entire length of her tan legs, I decided that this development made for a far more interesting evening than I'd planned.

Why was pretty Claire Ward pretending to be her sister?

Safely ensconced in the passenger seat, she folded her hands primly in her lap and stared straight ahead. Pretending badly at that. It was a wonder that either one of them thought they'd be able to fool Finn, of all people. Sure, their faces might have the same features, but the woman who looked like a princess was nothing like her sister.

And I was okay with that.

As I climbed into my seat and cranked up the Jeep, I decided that uncovering this mystery could be a hell of an entertaining evening. If she managed to make it past my dad and Adele, I'd be impressed.

From my peripheral, I saw her shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath and let it out. It made me grin.

"What?" she asked, with a bit more heat behind her tone.

"Just find it funny that you need breathing exercises to spend the evening with the other Davis brother."

"I wasn't doing breathing exercises," she explained calmly. "Just ... wasn't expecting," Claire paused, and her dark blue eyes flicked briefly in my direction, "you."

"Not many people are, princess."

"That is not my name," she snapped. Now she sounded like her sister.

"I am aware of that." I gave a brief glance of my own, careful not to use the name she was wearing for the evening, and not nearly as well as she was wearing that dress. "But you look like one, so it fits."

Her brow furrowed, but she didn't answer right away.

We drove in silence, heading into downtown. I sighed when all I saw in front of me was red brake lights.

"Was that a compliment?" she asked. This time, her gaze wasn't brief. It didn't move away from me. It pinned me in place, like a bug under a light.

My eyebrows popped up. She might not have Lia's snark, but this was a banked heat I wasn't expecting. "Depends on if you like princesses."

Claire didn't roll her eyes, but she did let her eyelids fall shut before lifting them slowly. Hiding her reaction made her even more fascinating in my book, which didn't bode well for her. This stodgy evening, one I'd normally avoid like boiling acid if it wasn't for my own predicament—was far more interesting with her in it. Even more so than if Lia had been in the seat next to me.

I hooked a wrist over the top of the steering wheel. "I happen to. For the most part. Of course, I have favorites like any red-blooded male."

She didn't take the bait, just stared through the front windshield with her hands still folded neatly in her lap.

"Ariel is in my top three, hands down," I continued.

Claire exhaled slowly.

"As is Jasmine." I looked over at her.

"This is so very original. I'm not even sure how I'm supposed to react right now."

At her dryly spoken reply, my grin was instant. "Aren't you curious who's in the number one spot?"

"I don't know if curious is the word I'd pick," she muttered.

A laugh burst out of me.

I glanced at my blind spot and pulled around the car in front of me. Claire's face angled in my direction, and I saw her staring at the clover tattoo on the side of my hand. She wasn't being very careful, the princess in the yellow dress. Lia had seen my tattoos before, so nothing about them would interest her.

For reasons I refused to look deeply into, I threw her a bone before we arrived at the dinner. "Remember when I got this one? I feel like I got mocked for days."

She blinked a few times at the subtle reminder of who she was supposed to be. "I still want to," she said smoothly. "Just trying to decide if they'll kick you out for exceeding the maximum amount of visible ink at an event like this."

"Nah." I pulled my cuff up and glanced at the bottom edge of the compass that I'd added about six months earlier. "Enough athletes will be present tonight that they'd be pretty damn hypocritical if they had a problem with me."