Page 57 of His Fake Fiancé

Okay, so that wasn’t really fair. He hadn’t actually spurned her. He’d coaxed her into an incredible orgasm first. Even thinking about it now sent a rush of heat to her face. And places farther south.

She locked up the filing cabinet and shut down the computer. Today was an early day, because she and Jake had to go meet with Trey Turner, Jake’s lawyer. And she was nervous as hell. Which didn’t help her already frazzled psyche.

When she’d woken up last Sunday morning, she’d still been humiliated. Jake Callahan, the man whore of northern California, had rejected her. She’d thrown herself at him, and he’d rejected her. She’d stared at the ceiling, awake far too early than she should have been, her mind moving at a million miles a minute.

But, as she’d lain there in the dark, she’d realized she was grateful he’d put the brakes on their make out session. Because making out with Jake was so much more than she’s ever imagined. Having sex with him just might kill her. And it would definitely cause some damage to her already fragile heart. The last couple of weeks living with him and Olivia had already put a number of chinks and holes in her armor. Any additional pressure and the whole thing was going to shatter.

She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She needed to stop by the house and grab something appropriate to wear. All she had at home were casual outfits, jeans and t-shirts and sweaters and such.

She stopped dead on the front porch of the house. She really needed to stop referring to the Callahan guest house as home. Wasn’t the slip up with KC last weekend enough? It had been bad enough dodging and weaving Kase’s questions all Sunday morning. They’d met for brunch and Claire had managed to spin some lie about how she’d thought someone had said something nasty, and then she’d gotten upset and left. Jake had followed her, and they’d talked about it, and she realized she’d overreacted. End of story.

Kase had watched her from across the table, and Claire knew she didn’t believe the story, but Kase didn’t push. But what was Claire supposed to say? I freaked out because I realized Jake’s never going to love me, but then we made out until I orgasmed, and then he left. Jake Callahan refused to have sex with me.

It was far too humiliating to even think about. Thankfully, KC had to work, so she’d headed back to Los Angeles on Sunday afternoon, and hadn’t had a chance to give Claire the real third degree.

All of this was reason number one million and three on why she needed to remember that this whole thing was fake. She and Jake were just pretending to be a couple. They weren’t a real family.

The ring on her finger felt like it weighed a million pounds as she hurried up the stairs. She needed to get in and out before she ran into anyone. Her dad and brothers should be out working cattle or fixing something broken, but it would be just her luck to run into one of them when she was in a hurry, and didn’t have to time to explain herself for the billionth time.

“Hey, Chicken.”

She sighed, her hand on her bedroom door knob, and turned to see Linc coming up the stairs.

“Whatcha doing?” He stopped in front of her, hands on his hips. Very self-assured and at ease, as if his question was perfectly reasonable and not none of his business.

“Just grabbing some things.” She pushed open her bedroom door, hurrying inside, hoping he’d take the hint. He didn’t. He just leaned against the door jamb, like he had all the time in the world.

“Not working this afternoon?” He kept his voice even, but since she’d known him her whole life, she could hear the underlying annoyance in his tone. “Got a hot date or something?”

She silently counted to ten and then added ten more for good measure. A big fight wasn’t worth it right now. She had plenty of other things she needed to focus on. Things like the fact she was about to co-ordinate her lies with an officer of the court.

The coffee in her belly—the only thing she’d been able to stomach this morning—curdled, the sourness making her queasy. Why had she ever agreed to this?

She pulled open the closet door and rifled through her clothes. What did one wear to lie to a professional? She leaned her head against the row of hangers.

“You okay?” Linc put his hand on her shoulder. His voice was full of nothing but concern now. For some reason, it made her want to cry.

She nodded and pulled a black sheath dress off the hanger. With a cardigan and some flats, it should work. Forcing a smile, she turned toward her brother. He had that concerned look on his face, the one he always got when he knew something with her was off. They may have been a number of years apart, but as the closest in age, they had a special relationship. She loved Brock and Jax, but Linc was the one who always got her.

He ushered her over to the bed and urged her to sit. She still had the dress in her hands, and was currently crushing it to death, so she laid it over her lap and smoothed the fabric with her fingers.

Linc sat beside her, bumping her with his shoulder. “Talk to me, Chicken.”

The urge to spill her guts, open her mouth and let it all spew out, like that time at the county fair when she’d eaten her weight in corndogs and then ridden the tilt-a-whirl one to many times in a row. But she couldn’t. That wouldn’t be fair to either Jake or Linc. She’d promised Jake she would do this for him, and to back out now would be really shitty. Not to mention, jeopardize his custody of Olivia.

She also didn’t want to say anything to Linc—or the rest of her family—because she didn’t want to involve him in this charade. And yes, she also didn’t want him to go all big brother and confront Jake or something. She was tired of the men in her life thinking she needed to be rescued.

“It’s nothing,” she said, and bumped his shoulder back. This time when she smiled, it felt more normal, if a little tired.

“Not that you’d tell me if it was something.” Linc sounded as tired as she felt. He sighed. “Just promise me you won’t forge ahead with something you shouldn’t, just because you don’t want to ask for help.”

Shit, did he know what they were doing? “Linc…”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a squeeze. “I know you, Claire. And I know you’re feeling suffocated, no matter how much you try to hide it.” He planted a kiss on the top of her head. “And, yes, I know around here, we treat you like you’re still a kid sometimes, but it’s because we all remember you as that little baby, all pink skin and foghorn lungs. And from the moment dad brought you home, we all vowed we’d protect you. So, don’t forget the reason we do the things we do is because we love you and we don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

He pushed to his feet and strode out of the room. Claire watched him go, her jaw getting rug burn, it had dropped so far. Her jumbled emotions bubbled over and the tears she’d been fighting for what seemed like forever—or at least since her meltdown last weekend—streaked down her cheeks. She let them fall, because it felt good to release all of this pent up emotion.

And maybe if she let it out now, it would take some of the nerves with it. She just needed to push all of the stuff Linc had just unloaded on her into a box to be dissected later, and she’d be good. Maybe. Probably.