America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(23)

But now he thinks I’m totally into him.

If he weren’t famous—and gorgeous—and I wasn’t a giant geek who isn’t interested in the pretty boys who are almost always a disappointment, this could go somewhere. But he’s only here because he needs something. “I won’t be your PR stunt.”

He pushes off the post and comes to sit in the chair next to mine, legs spread wide so our knees are almost touching. I hold still, because I don’t want him to see my flinch.

“You don’t like public attention,” he says.

“Or lies,” I say, exactly like the hypocrite I am, because lying is exactly what I’ve been doing most of my adult life.

“Three phone calls, and I can get ten million more people watching Persephone and learning about the bees and the giraffes.”

I’d call bullshit, except I know a thing or seven about Bro Code, and I know Beck’s the least successful of the guys who stayed in the public limelight after the band broke up. It’s not that I wanted to follow Levi Wilson or Cash Rivers, but living in Copper Valley, where they all grew up, it’s impossible to not know about them.

Which means it’s almost impossible to not know that he’d call both of them and ask them to share the video feed of Persephone and talk about giraffes being endangered.

To their gazillionty fans.

They’ve already publicly stood up for him on their social media platforms, while somehow also apologizing to me on his behalf.

People fuck up, and Beck’s my brother from another mother who’s going to make this right for the poor girl he pulled into his shit was the gist of both of their messages.

“Is this bribery or blackmail?” I ask.

“I’m not selling,” he tells me, “but I am working on delegating what I can so I can be home more. Family is where it’s at. This foundation Charlie told you about last night? It’s something my entire family can be proud of. And it’ll help so many other families, give their kids a shot at playing sports, at being healthy, at having somewhere to go after school and during the summers. I don’t need more money. But making more money lets me help more families. So this isn’t bribery, or blackmail. It’s a guy who’d like to make a difference in the world asking for a favor that only you can give.”

“So it’s guilt.”

“The attention goes away after a while. In six months, nobody will even remember this.”

“Exactly. So you can wait six months and then launch your foundation.”

“It’s not that simple.” He leans forward, hands dangling between his knees, a plea lingering deep in his eyes. “This foundation isn’t just mine. I’m dragging Vaughn Crawford’s name through the mud too for being associated with me, and if I think I do good for the world, I’m nothing compared to him. This is a step up for me. And yeah, you can say I’m doing this to save face and keep selling clothes. You could. But if my businesses tank, if I walk away and let it all die, there are hundreds of people who’ll lose their jobs. Hundreds of families suffering. I don’t sew the clothes. Marketing is a hell of a lot more than me smiling for a camera. Hell, I don’t even design anything. I just put my mark on the things I like and would want to wear, and we buy the rights from the designers who couldn’t make a fraction of what they make if I didn’t put my mark on it. It’s not just about launching a foundation. It’s about saving hundreds of people’s jobs too.”

I sink back in my chair and pull my knees to my chest. “That’s really not fair.”

“We announce the foundation in less than two weeks. And if I don’t fix my image yesterday, Vaughn’s out, and the whole thing dies, because we need both of us in this to make it work. You’re my best shot. With the reaction to the video last night, you’re my only shot.”

I’m his only shot.

I open my mouth, but instead of a rational, well-thought-out argument why this is a terrible idea, I say, “Oh, shit.”

Because my back gate just opened.

And a potbellied pig in a tutu on a leash just stuck her head in.

No, we’re not in an alternate dimension.

Or the circus.

Nope.

That potbellied, tutu-ed pig means one thing.

My parents have arrived.





Twelve





Beck

Sarah bolts to her feet so fast my brain gets whiplash. “What—” I start, but she grabs me by the arm and shrieks, “Inside!” so desperately that I don’t think, I just move.

Until—

“Serendipity! I knew it. I knew it! Judson, I told you she was keeping a big secret.”

“That you did, darlin’.”

The voices send chills down my back, and I turn, my jaw slipping as a couple with a tutu-ed pig on a leash shut the back gate behind them.

Sarah’s still pushing me toward the house.

Toward her taser.

“Oh, shit, Sarah, stop.” I dig my heels in, because there’s no fucking way I’m letting her taser Sunny Darling and Judson Clarke.

“Nope, nope, nope, no stopping, get out.” She’s holding my arm so tight her fingernails are slicing into my bicep, but I squat lower to make my center of gravity work for me and resist.

Fuck, she’s strong.