Series: Fever Falls Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“You won’t be bothered by everybody watching us?”
I was still having a hard enough time adjusting to people coming up to me in Fever Falls. Considering how upset he’d been with me when he’d believed I was going to ruin one of the few days he could get out and just be himself, I more than understood why he would have preferred not to go out around town, especially with his new boyfriend he’d made headlines with.
“It’ll be annoying, but it wouldn’t be terrible if they saw us out and about together, would it? Kind of an important part of this whole fake-relationship bit.”
As he grinned, I couldn’t help but marvel at his face. There was something statuesque about it, as though he’d been carved from marble, those steel-blue irises set in place on a work of art rather than a real human being. It really wasn’t a stretch to believe that this man sitting beside me was royalty.
And with the recognition came the reminder that this was all fake, because of course it was. Regardless of what everyone else believed, a guy like Owen could only end up with someone like me in some contrived relationship bullshit.
I took him up on his offer, and his driver took us to the pub he’d mentioned. When we arrived, he escorted me to the bar, where we sat on the stools in front of it. Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” played overhead.
“Oh God,” I moaned.
“What is it?”
“Adele.” I put my finger in my mouth, pretending to make myself gag.
“You don’t like Adele? How am I just now finding this out?”
“I mean, she’s a good singer, but it’s like the moment I think I’m having a good day, she comes on, and suddenly I’m either angry as hell for spending all this time ‘chasing pavements’ or feeling like I’ll never ‘find someone like you.’ She hits my soul, bad. I’m liable to start crying right now.”
Owen laughed. “Now I wish I’d known this fact before our interview.”
The bartender, with a sleeve tat and a goatee, headed over, all smiles. “How’s it going, Prince Man?”
“No complaints today.”
“There’s a first,” he teased as he set napkins on the bar before us. “I’m Marty,” he said, and we shook hands before Owen told me, “He’s good people.”
“I don’t know if I can be considered all that good, given how much alcohol I’ve served you over the years, but I’ll take it.”
“Good people, but a bad influence,” Owen quipped as Marty handed us menus.
“Oh, thank God they have burgers!” I exclaimed as soon as I saw the selection in the front flap.
“Are you a big burger kind of guy?”
“I don’t know why, but I was just craving some before we came over. Feel like I could eat everything on this menu right now.”
“That would be a lot of food,” Owen said.
“Hey. I think I’ve warned you about underestimating me.”
“I’m not underestimating you, Hot Lips, that’s for sure.”
I noted and appreciated his use of the name, especially as he inspected my lips as though he was reflecting on my dick-sucking skills.
As Marty headed off, Owen’s gaze shifted to my back.
“What? Do I have something on my shirt?”
“No.” He leaned close to me and whispered, “I was trying to see if I could tell what kind of underwear you had on today.”
Even though he’d said it so that no one else would hear, I glanced around, looking Marty’s way.
Now on the other side of the bar, it was clear there was no way he could have heard.
But the way a few of the patrons eyed us and took pictures, likely because they knew who we were, made me feel as if somehow they may have psychically picked up on what he’d said.
“Did you wear anything particularly pretty?” he asked.
My cheeks must’ve been bright pink. “Well, we had the interview today…”
“Oh, so no.” The disappointment in his tone was palpable.
“I meant we were doing the interview, so I wanted to wear something I felt good in.”
In an instant, his smile shifted into a far more mischievous expression.
“What color?” he pressed.
“Maybe I should leave that to your imagination.”
“Or, maybe you could show me.”
I glanced around again, and he must’ve sensed my uneasiness because he added, “I was kidding. Sorry, I’ll stop talking about it here if that makes you uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine. I like when you talk about it.”
“Then we’ll revisit this conversation in a more private setting. I feel an emergency coming on.”
“Oh, considering what I did today, there’s definitely an emergency.”
He was about to say something when a woman beside us said, “Pardon me. Do you mind if I get a quick photo?”
I was disappointed we’d been interrupted, but even more so when I saw the way Owen’s smile dissipated and then returned, as if he knew he had to keep up appearances for the request.