Page 31 of Frosted Fakes

"It is fake though, right?" Tara looked between them. "Obviously fake."

Elliott kept her voice neutral. "What makes you say that?"

"You're standing three feet apart and look like you're facing execution." Tara grinned finally.

Fair point.

"We're working on it," Elliott said.

"Work faster. Mrs. Richardson doesn't miss details." Tara pulled off her beanie, ran a hand through her short hair, then tugged it back on.

Not helpful.

"Right." Elliott said, moving toward the kitchen. "I'll start the morning bake. Julia, front of house. Tara, prep?"

"Obviously." Tara shot Julia a look. "You two are terrible at this. Primary school Christmas play level. You have realized that, right?"

Again, unhelpful. But she wasn't wrong. Elliott clenched her teeth. She’d just have to try harder, wouldn’t she?

The morning was a disaster. Julia drifted into the kitchen, stood too close, then jumped away like Elliott had burned her. Elliott tried "darling" once and nearly choked. They were wooden, unconvincing, awful.

Tara watched with barely concealed amusement.

By noon, Elliott was ready to abandon the whole scheme. This would never work. Gabby Richardson was too sharp. She'd see through them immediately.

The bell chimed. Jamie walked in with a pot.

"Soup delivery. Butternut squash with sage." He set it down and grinned. "So. Girlfriends?"

"Don't start," Elliott warned.

"I think it's lovely." His smile was mischief. "How long together?"

"Two weeks," they said in unison.

"And your first date?"

Elliott's mind blanked.

"We went to…" Julia started.

"The pub," Elliott finished. "For drinks."

"Lovely," Julia added.

"Very romantic," Elliott said flatly.

Jamie laughed. "You're both terrible liars." He handed them bowls. "But Julia's mother? Terrifying. I spent an hour with her yesterday. Felt like an audition. She asked about my training, suppliers, business plan. Thought she'd demand tax returns. Also, I think she touched my bum."

"That's her," Julia said.

"Are you going to sue her for sexual harassment?" Elliott asked with interest.

Jamie ignored that. "She asked about you too." He said, looking at Elliott. "Your background, training, school. I played dumb. But she'll ask you directly. She won't accept vague answers."

Elliott's knuckles whitened around her spoon. "I don't have impressive answers. Didn't go to culinary school. Learned from Milly. That's it."

"That's not nothing," Julia said.