Chapter Five

Chapter Five

“Hell’s bells, Brady. This is a shit plan, and you know it.”

Dixon was sprawled out across their apartment’s couch with a dead-on impression of his father across his face. Heavy judgment, slight detachment, always hungry. Even with his disapproval, he snaked a hand out and grabbed the last of the tortilla chips on the coffee table.

Brady was in the kitchen, sucking down a bottle of water. The heat index was ninety-eight degrees, but the humidity was becoming heavier by the minute. All the walking to and from Sloane’s place had drenched him thoroughly with sweat. The shower had been refreshing but did nothing to help his need to hydrate, especially after the coffee. He was pretty sure he could suck down the entire bay right now if given the chance.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he said after he came up for air. “We’ll have lunch, smile, take a few pics, and then get out of there when we’re done. After that? Just repeat until Sloane goes back home. Easy peasy.”

Dixon shook his head. “I’m not talking about this fake-relationship bull hockey. I’m talking about going to the hoity-toity garden lunch thing when you know damn well that Felicity is going to be there.” He jabbed the chip in Brady’s direction. “You might be fake dating Sloane, but Felicity is real engaged to Marcus. You eating little sandwiches and snails and drinking champagne with them isn’t going to change that.”

Brady had known he was going to get flak from his cousin about the arrangement he’d made with Sloane, but him being grumpy over Felicity’s presence hadn’t crossed his mind. Then again, Dixon had never been a big fan when it came to Felicity. Not when Brady had finally had the courage to ask her out when she first came into the bar years ago and not when she’d left him at that same bar three years later.

“Escargot,” Brady said, side-stepping most of the concern. “That’s what the snail dish is called. And I don’t think that’s what they’re going to serve at lunch.”

Dixon rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Point is, the situation ain’t changing.” He crunched into his chip but kept talking. “You don’t have anything to gain from this other than a reason to turn into mopey, heartbroken Brady. I don’t know about you, but I don’t know if I can handle that again.”

It was Brady’s turn to roll his eyes. “I wasn’t that bad.”

They both knew it was a lie.