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She dropped into her chair with a groan. How was this her life?
Her ex-boyfriend suddenly going all Neanderthal in shining armor and trying protect her from her own love life. Her almost boyfriend MIA. Her fake boyfriend . . .
Her eyes landed on the New York Minute blog post, still on her computer screen.
Fizzle or fire. Pff. Fizzle or fire.
How about neither?
How about a perfectly respectable adult relationship? (That would just happen to end three weeks from Tuesday.)
Maybe she couldn’t stop Noah from trying to be her savior. Maybe she couldn’t stop Davis from spending more time in the air than he did with her.
But she could damn well control this. Fire or fizzle, indeed.
She picked up the phone and dialed her fake boyfriend.
Chapter Twelve
“Tell me why we’re here again?” Ryder bent down to peer through a miniature sterling-silver-framed greenhouse set on the pedestal between them. She could just see his dubious dark eyes over the paper flowers and birds the Tiffany staff had arranged inside.
“To buy Noah and Sabrina an engagement present.” Wow. Was that ever going to sound normal? Just shopping for my boyfriend and his new girlfriend—I mean fiancée—I mean wife. Ugh. She strolled along the walls of the fourth floor alcove, browsing the luxury gifts.
He laughed. “No offense, Vic, but you don’t need me for that. I don’t even know what half this stuff is.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Well, that is a greenhouse.”
“For what, fancy Smurfs?”
“For display.”
He stood, meeting her eyes again over the little structure. Staring her down.
“Fine.” She relented. “I need you to be seen with me buying an engagement present.”
“Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere.” He flashed her a lopsided smile.
God help her, her insides melted just a tiny bit.
This was good stuff, though. Exactly what they needed. She glanced around surreptitiously. There were no paparazzi, of course. Tiffany & Co. would never have allowed them inside. But there were several clerks on the floor who clearly recognized them. And most promisingly, a family of tourists who she was pretty sure had followed them from the ground floor.
They were keeping their distance, but she’d caught them whispering and looking in their direction. All she and Ryder needed was for them to snap a photo or two of the two of them looking like a totally boring and non-scandalous couple shopping for friends and then post them on Instagram or Share Spot or something like that. They would go viral instantly, and the gossip columns would pick them up from there. Ryder had helpfully shown up in a nice suit as requested. Everything was going according to plan.
Ryder nodded toward the tourist mom, who was now not-so-successfully attempting to hide behind a display of crystal barware, clearly trying to take a picture with her phone. “Looks like we have a fan.”
Vicky laughed, tossing her head back, even though he hadn’t said anything funny. She definitely didn’t want the story to be “Vicky Ashby Miserable Picking Out Engagement Gift for Ex.”
Ryder chuckled softly. He took a step closer, leaning in so only she could hear. “You want me to kiss you again? Make Noah jealous?” He waggled his eyebrows.
She flushed, quickly glancing back at their friend, who was still holding up her phone. Was she taking video?
“Not the way you look like you’re thinking about kissing me,” she hissed at Ryder. “We’re trying to kill those kinds of stories, remember?”
She laughed loudly again for good measure, then added as an afterthought, “And I don’t care if Noah is jealous. I do care if the world sees us doing respectable couple things together.”
He picked an item off the shelf next to them. “You mean like buying one of these very expensive . . . Is this a bubble wand?”
She examined it. Apparently, yes, it was a bubble wand.
