The Wedding Trap (Second Service #1)(24)
Author: Adrienne Bell

"Charlie and I went to lunch. Then we walked around the city. I didn’t want to be disturbed."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "The not-wanting-to-be-disturbed part, I believe.”

Great. Everybody thought that she’d spent the whole afternoon jumping pretend Charlie’s bones. At least her mother didn’t think she had to pay for it. Or did she?

Her mother was giving Alex a long, disapproving stare. Had Spencer gotten to her too?

“What did you do today, Mom?"

"Your father played golf with the Mr. Masterson and Mr. Munoz. And I had a lovely lunch with Spencer."

Bull’s-eye.

"Ah," Beth said slowly. Suddenly, she understood all the strange looks being directed at her. Spencer had done what he always did best—spread bullshit. Everyone in the room thought that she was such a loser that she had paid a man to pose as her imaginary boyfriend and then spent the day screwing his brains out.

"He had some very interesting things to say," her mother said.

"I’m sure he did," Beth said. But she wasn’t going to stick around to hear them. She started to walk away, pulling Alex with her. Beth had the distinct impression that he was trying not laugh.

"Where you going?" her mother called after her.

She held up her hands up in surrender as she went. "To the bar, Mom."

Screw keeping control of herself. If she was destined to take two shots to the back of her head at the end of the night, she wasn’t going to waste her last moments on earth feeling utterly miserable.

Beth snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and found an empty spot at the far end of the lounge.

"Tell me again why I was worried about saving any of these people?"

Alex grinned. "They all think I’m a prostitute, don’t they?"

"Yep," she said. For some reason, Alex finding humor in the situation only darkened her mood further. It wasn’t funny—it was disastrous. Spencer had gotten exactly what he wanted: she was a joke.

Given what had happened to her today, it shouldn’t have mattered. But for some reason, it cut deep. She imagined what the epitaph on her gravestone would read.

Beth Bradley.

Liar. Sinner. John.

"It’s not funny," she said.

His smile widened. His shoulders began to shake. "It’s pretty damn funny."

"For you, maybe," she said, taking a sip of champagne. It would have made a bolder statement if she just slammed the thing down, but it tasted too damn expensive to waste on soothing her anger. "I have to stick around after this is over. I’ll be the one to clean up this mess."

"Or not," he said.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing," he said with a shrug.

"Tell me," she said.

"What would happen if for just a minute you stopped caring what all these people thought about you? What if you let them come up with their own misguided opinions, then laughed them off and let it go? What would happen?"

Beth opened her mouth but nothing came out. For a moment she wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Alex was laughing, but he wasn’t laughing at her. And maybe it was a little bit funny to think of how upset some people were over something that simply wasn’t true.

Beth looked at the people watching her from across the room. Some were curious. Some looked upset. Some, amused. And some, a great deal more than she would have imagined, looked like they couldn’t care less.

"Maybe you’re right," she said with a grin. "Maybe I’ll leave this world behind and move out to DC with you. I could become your pimp."

"I believe they’re called madams," he said.

"We’ll have to look it up."

She’d always cared so much about what people thought of her. She spent so much time trying to please everyone that she ended up pleasing no one, herself included.

But not every one disliked her. Alex seemed to genuinely appreciate her. And there was Isobel, of course.

Isobel. The first person to assume Alex was a man whore.

But her best friend would never…

"There you are.” Beth turned around at the sound of Isobel’s voice. "I’ve been looking all over for you two."

Isobel had a drink in her hand and a smile on her face. It was obvious that she wasn’t feeling much pain.

“We’ve been over here. Hanging out against the wall. Enduring the stares of strangers,” Beth said.

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“You didn’t happen to tell Spencer your little theory about Charlie’s real occupation, did you?”

Isobel’s hand flew to her mouth. She shook her head. “No,” she said.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Isobel flashed her a guilty smile. “I may have let it slip to Jordan, who may have mentioned it as a joke to his brother.”

“Isobel!”

Isobel waved her hand. "Nobody listens to Spencer.”

Beth arched her eyebrows.

"Okay, everybody listened to him," she amended. "But if it makes you feel any better only about half of them believe it."

"Yeah, that makes it all better," Beth said.

Isobel turned to Alex. "So is it true?"

Alex only shrugged.

"Oh my God, I knew it," Isobel said.

"No," Beth said. "Seriously, Isobel. He’s not a gigolo."

"Really? That’s disappointing," Isobel turned her attention back to Alex. "So who are you, then? I’m the only other person who knows for certain that you aren’t Charlie Parker."

That muscle on the side of Alex’s jaw twitched again, and Beth groaned inwardly.

"Isobel," she said in warning. Her friend didn’t know that she was doing far more harm than she realized. "He’s just a friend."

"No, he’s not," she said. "There is no way that you have a guy as gorgeous as this hanging around you, and I don’t know about it."

"You’re not helping," Beth said. If she had to guess, she’d say that Isobel was about three glasses of champagne into the evening. Nothing short of being blunt was going to get through.

"I just don’t want to see you get hurt," Isobel said. Beth nodded. It was sweet…in a way. A way that Alex was taking all wrong.

"She’s not going to get hurt," Alex’s words were imbued with all kinds of meaning that sailed right over Isobel’s head.

"Yeah, well, you make sure of it. Or I’ll be coming after you," Isobel said. She poked her pointer finger into his chest for emphasis before turning to Beth, her eyes comically wide. "Damn, he’s solid," she said in a whisper that was loud enough to be heard three towns over.