The Pretend Boyfriend (The Pretend Boyfriend #3)(7)
Author: Artemis Hunt

“I have to go to the restroom. You want to join me?”

Still shaken, Sam manages a smile. “If I did, the waitress might think we were both trying to squiggle ourselves out of paying.”

“She may be right.” Delilah indicates her large tote bag. “Just watch out for it, will you?”

She heads in the direction of the restroom.

Two weeks from now, Sam would be looking back at this moment and wondering if it all had been too easy. Too suspiciously f**king easy.

Because she came here tonight armed with several plans. She hadn’t been sure Plan A – getting Delilah to invite her back to her apartment off the bat – would work. In fact, she was ninety-nine percent sure she wouldn’t get a peek in this early. And the clock was ticking on the trial deadline.

As soon as Delilah is safely out of sight, Sam delves into Plan B. Which is the precursor to Plan C, which she hopes she might not ever have to use.

She grabs Delilah’s bag and rifles in it. She finds what she’s looking for almost immediately – a two-piece set of apartment keys.

Her hands feeling rubbery with what she’s about to do, she quickly takes out a piece of wax from her own purse. One she had purchased for just this purpose. She sinks in both of Delilah’s keys into the wax, making a lasting impression. Then she returns both the keys and the wax into their rightful compartments and arranges the bag as it was.

Her heart gallops races within her chest.

6

“Just five recruitments? Five recruitments all day?” Sam is dismayed. With all the shit going on in Brian’s life, she really doesn’t need for this to happen.

Jolie, the receptionist, winces apologetically. “I’m sorry. It’s the new Fitness Worx recruitment drive. They are huge, and they have plenty of advertising muscle. They were doing a blitzkrieg everywhere for ten blocks. They knew we were opening today, and they didn’t want us to get off the ground.”

Sam swivels around to stare at the balloons, all prettied up in an arc around the double entrance doors. The ribbons, the streamers, the buffet spread. She had thrown a party and no one had come. The trainers stand around, feeling ill at ease. Only a solitary woman is inside the gym at the treadmill. She had been someone who was recruited much earlier, before they opened their doors.

Cassie comes up to her and squeezes her hand. “Oh Sam. It’ll get better. These things take time. Word gets out slowly nowadays, you know. If it’s any help, I’ve asked everyone in the office to come over within the next couple of weeks to join.”

“Thanks, Cassie.” Sam’s heart sinks. They were so much in the red. Correction: Brian was so much in the red, and she can’t afford to let this happen to him – to bring him down with her probably pointless dream.

Who was she kidding? Did she really think she could take on Fitness Worx, the big guys? They must be laughing at her – rolling on the floor with her pathetic attempts to lure new gym users.

“Where’s Brian?” Cassie says tartly.

“Out.”

Brian had wanted to stay away from the crowds because he was afraid his presence would be a deterrent. He had been especially quiet when he came in early this morning. He had kissed her absently on the cheek, and then told her that he would be staying away all day.

“You don’t have to,” she told him. “You’re making too big a deal out of it. No one’s going to recognize you.”

Stare at him maybe, because he is so striking to look at. But not put two and two together and figure out where they had seen him before. But he was adamant that he would not be her ruination.

“Oh really? Getting his dick sucked?” Cassie can be so crude sometimes.

Sam doesn’t want to tell her that Brian has been monogamous for some time now. There’s no point. Cassie is determined to hate on him anyway. Caleb is supportive, even though Brian is not here. He is talking to Thor, and the two men would occasionally dart their glances over to her, as though they are speaking about her.

Thor gives her a slow smile. Before she had met Brian, Sam would have blushed at this. She’s flattered if Thor thinks she’s attractive, but she has Brian now and there’s too much at stake for both of them.

Her gaze keeps being riveted to the door. So this is what it means to have your own business. So much of it depends on customer traffic. She can keep her eyes glued to the door all she wants to, but all the hoping in the world won’t make customers appear if they are determined to stay away.

7

Outside, Brian rests in his parked car. He’s watching the gym, observing how few people are going in. He has just come from spying on Fitness Worx, which is having a real bonanza day.

He had overheard a customer in Fitness Worx saying, “There’s a new gym down the block called ‘Shape’ or something.”

“Oh, them?” one of the trainers said. “They’re nothing but wannabe upstarts. They don’t have as much equipment as we do, and what they have is woefully lacking. The owners are inexperienced and know nothing about running gyms. That’s why you should sign up with us. We have twenty branches all over the state, and we’re giving a discount today. I predict that ‘Shape’ gym will be closed down before the month is up.”

Brian bridled at this, but did not say anything as he pretended to leaf through some brochures.

And now, the wheels in his head are churning furiously.

He may know nothing about running gyms, but he sure as hell knows his way around advertising. The only thing is he’s going to need some money.

Lots of it.

He grips the steering wheel of the Ferrari. Where the hell is he going to find the extra injection of cash? Especially now that he’s going for therapy again?

The diamond earrings he had bought for Sam lies snugly in its little velvet box, invading his thoughts. She doesn’t know about them, and he had been hoping to spring that surprise on her for her birthday.

*

Dr. Robertson sits across the desk from him. Brian has never felt comfortable on a couch, and he’d rather just stare at the renowned psychiatrist from across a desk, as though they are having a business discussion.

“How do you feel today, Brian?”

“Like a freight truck ran into me.”

“You were really shattered yesterday.”

“Yesterday, it was an eighteen-wheeler.” Brian pulls in a deep breath. “Seriously, I’m better now. Yesterday was . . . embarrassing. It won’t happen again.”

“Why do you find it embarrassing?” Dr. Robertson is older than Brian remembered him, with silver hair at his wings, but his blue eyes are every bit as hawk-like and piercing as Brian recalled. But he has always felt at ease with the man. He doesn’t confuse you with a lot of psychobabble, and he’s honest to the bone. Brian appreciates brutal honesty.