The Pretend Girlfriend (A Billionaire Love Story #1)(46)

And that was really why she'd wanted that extra half hour. It took time to come out looking like a rich guy's girlfriend. Or her impression of it, at least. Though it also occurred to her that no one at Starbucks would know aside from them. This wasn't an interview or anything.

Okay, fine, I just want to look good, is that a crime? Gwen told that part of herself. It shot back with: For you, or for him?

She told that part of her to shut up.

Figuring the call was over, she started taking the phone away from her ear to hang up.

"And Gwen?" Aiden said.

"Yeah?"

"Take care. You sound a little... I don't know... Worried. Don't be. It's going to be fine."

Gwen smiled. "Thanks. See you in a bit!"

He paused, and she thought he was about to add something else. Then he hung up.

***

The Starbucks seemed farther away than she remembered. She shot out of the elevator, half a slice of hot toast dripping semi-liquid (but oh so delicious!) peanut butter all over the tiles.

It had taken her that hour and a half to get ready. And now I'm going to be late! Gwen thought, pushing out into the stream of pedestrians. She almost bowled over a short old man wearing a trilby, a pipe gritted between his teeth.

"Sorry!" Gwen said, bursting through the cloud of cherry-scented tobacco that surrounded him. Now I'm going to show up smelling like smoke!

The city had woken up, and was now in the full swing of the morning rush. The formerly quiet street rang with car horns and bicycle bells as crazy cycling deliverymen wended their way through the streams of people.

By the time Gwen got to the Starbucks, she knew what awaited her. A line. A long line that snaked its way out through the doors and out along the front of the building. She surveyed it quickly, not finding Aiden anywhere. That was good at least. She may be late, but at least she got there before him.

She stopped, gulping down deep breaths as she tried to figure out what to do now. Of course, there was really only one reasonable thing: call Aiden and tell him that she couldn't grab a seat at the Starbucks and to find someplace else they could get together. Like her apartment.

She took out her phone, which immediately started buzzing in her hand. Aiden's name flashed on the call display!

He knows! Gwen thought. But how could he possibly know; I haven't told him yet? She added.

Composing herself, she tapped the screen. Gwen turned to face the street, watching the taxis jockey for position at the light as she covered her other ear with her hand to try and block out some of the noises.

"Aiden! Hi... Look, about Starbucks, I'm actually, uh, not in the mood. How about we just hit up a hotdog stand or something and then go back to my place?" Good save, she thought.

"I guess I'll just have them dump this vanilla latte out then."

"Come again?"

"Turn around," he said.

A prickling sensation crawling up and down her back, she turned around. Aiden sat at a table inside the Starbucks close to the window. He waved, then picked up what looked like a grande latte.

"So, I'll just dump this out. I don't think it could compete with... is that half a slice of toast?" he said.

"Toast? Oh! Man..." Gwen said. She'd tried to get here so fast that she'd forgotten about the remainder of her pre-breakfast. It was cold now, of course. The peanut butter had hardened into a sort of shell covering the bread and part of her hand.

Feeling absolutely mortified, Gwen ended the call, held up one finger to forestall the look of amusement threatening to spread across Aiden's face, and went over to a nearby trash bin to make a deposit.

Inside, Aiden handed her a few tissues for her to clean off the now sticky mess. Gwen sat down, but still couldn't speak. Did that really just happen? Gwen thought. She'd been so pleased at finally scoring a point in this little contest, and she had to go ruin it for herself by forgetting about a piece of slightly burnt bread!

She covered up her silence by drinking some of the latte. It was sweet. And hot. Too hot. She put her hand up to her mouth to keep from sputtering.

Real attractive, Gwen, she kept thinking. But Aiden didn't say anything. He waited for her to finish choking down the ill-planned gulp of hot espresso and milk, then handed her another tissue.


"Thanks," she said.

"Not a problem. So... Why the emergency meeting?"

She started in, but stopped. There was something wrong. It was the middle of rush hour. Outside, that serpentine line snaked its way even farther along the sidewalk than earlier. There wasn't a square foot of space on the tiled floor of Starbucks not taken up by some yuppie waiting impatiently for their morning fix. And yet, here she sat—sat!—at a table with Aiden.

"How did you get a table?" she said.

He shrugged. "Maybe I've been waiting a while. Maybe I come here to work because I like the area."

That was really sweet. So sweet that she hardly entertained the thought that he might be acting. It must have shown on her face, because he immediately backpedaled.

"Or maybe I just paid the person sitting here before me to go." Aiden gave her a closed-lip smile and glanced out the window.

"Sure," Gwen said, taking a more measured sip from her cup this time. The latte tasted so good when it wasn't scalding her mouth.

"How I got the table doesn't matter. Will you tell me what this is all about?" he said.