Page 40 of The Fake Out

“I need you to keep this between us. No matter what.” He paused and put his hand on my arm until I turned to look at him, his eyes serious.

I nodded. “I promise.”

He blew out a breath. “That woman in the video? She’s my sister.”

“Oh,” I whispered.

“She lives in L.A. We’re close. She has a little boy who just turned three. His name is Oliver.” He pulled out his phone and showed me a photo of a little boy with dark hair and bright-blue eyes.

“He’s adorable.”

“I know. Looks like his uncle, right?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Anyway, I don’t get to see her often so when she asked if she could drive over and see me when I was in Vegas, I was all for it. Soon as she got there, I could tell something was off. The next thing I know she’s guzzled half her weight in rum and Coke and is stripping off her clothes and dancing on tables and taking dares to recite the preamble to the Constitution while standing on her head. I got her out of there as fast as I could.”

“Is she okay?” I asked.

“We had a long talk and she admitted things have been really tough, and she’s been drinking more than she should. I found her a rehab where she could bring Oliver with her, and she stayed there for a few weeks. She’s doing better. It’s kind of a one day at a time sort of thing. She’s fragile right now and I don’t want anything to derail her.” He pulled off his baseball cap and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I try to keep my personal life out of the spotlight. The media is a beast and once they get a hold of something, they won’t leave it alone.”

“Which is what would happen if her name got out.”

“Yeah.” He smacked the cap on his knee and then yanked it back on his head. “When that video came out and they all assumed she was one of the dancers, it seemed like the easiest way to keep her name out of all this.” His shoulders slumped. “But now the Children’s Heart Fund is threatening to sever ties over it. They don’t think that video is the right image for a children’s charity.”

“Well…”

“A lot of responsibility comes with this job and I take it seriously. I’ve been so careful where and who I hang out with, what words come out of my mouth when I do interviews. I don’t want some little kid asking me about naked dancers the next time I do a hospital visit.”

He flopped back on the truck bed with a frustrated growl and stacked his hands under his head. I absolutely did not notice the sliver of skin that peeked out at the bottom of his t-shirt.

I tucked a knee under me so I could see his face. “Is it really the end of the world if you have to find another charity to work with after this all dies down?”

“Yes.” He frowned. “My youngest sister, Millie, was born with HLHS, hypoplastic left heart syndrome. Basically, a part of her heart wasn’t formed correctly. Instead of four chambers like you and me, hers only had three. I was fourteen when she was born, and it changed our whole family.”

“Is she okay?”

“She still has regular check-ups, and she’ll need more surgery as she gets older. But she’s doing okay.” He stared up into the inky sky, where the stars were just visible despite the light pollution from the city. “Anyway, I decided I wanted to find ways to help other kids and families who have to go through this.”

I rubbed at my chest where a small pinching feeling had settled. “That’s very admirable.”

He sat up suddenly, his face very close to mine, close enough to smell cinnamon on his breath. “Do you believe me?”

His sincerity was so evident that it was impossible not to. I nodded slowly. “But I have no idea what this has to do with me and a marriage proposal.”

“I probably could have approached that differently. My team has a plan to fix all this bad publicity.”

“Your team?”

“My agent, publicist. The team.”

Of course, he had a team. “Okay.”

“They say we need to create a distraction. Something that would help my image. What’s better than a fiancée? Not any old fiancée either: a small-town, salt-of-the-earth librarian. You’re smart, you’re the right age, you aren’t otherwise engaged, right?” He frowned as if this thought may have just crossed his mind.

“Well, no, I’m not.”

He clapped his hands. “You’re perfect. It’s like the book. Except we won’t have to get married. It’s an engagement of convenience.”