World's Worst Boyfriend: A Romantic Comedy Adventure (Fake It Book 3) Carina Taylor (the first e reader TXT) 📖

was gorgeous. The velvet navy couch in front of the large window drew out a rich tone in the midst of the cream.

My phone chimed.

Fletcher: You walk out of this house right now and drive away.

Me: Can’t. I have a sick dog.

I wasn’t surprised Fletcher knew I was here. He probably had surveillance set up all over the place.

Fletcher: I swear, Saidy, if nothing happens to you, I’m going to kill you.

Me: Now you know how I felt when you showed up to my house bleeding. It’s my turn to protect you.

Fletcher: Then walk away. Or I’ll be tempted to do something dumb.

Saidy: I didn’t want him to think it was you at my house last night.

A woman walked into the living room, startling me. I guiltily tucked my phone into my pocket as though she would be able to read our conversation across the large room.

I guess it made sense that Sullivan had people here in the house with him. It was huge. But I was pretty darn sure she wasn’t his mother. This must be the housekeeper Fletcher mentioned.

The woman stopped and looked at me in surprise, then glanced around as though she were trying to figure out where I had come from.

“Hello. Can I get you a drink?” she asked, her accent thick. And then she smiled when she came closer, seeing that I was Latina also.

“¿Limonada, agua o refresco?” she asked.

Crap. Agua was going to be the best thing. At least I remembered what that word meant. Despite looking like my Dad, and him and my paternal grandparents being native Spanish speakers, my skills were rudimentary, at best.

“Es tan agradable conocer a las amigas de Sullivan.”

She was smiling and I was kicking myself for not spending more time practicing Spanish. This was one time of many where someone had spoken to me, expecting me to understand. I knew enough to know she was talking about a friend of Sullivan’s, but I couldn’t be sure if she was talking about me or someone else.

“Oh good, you’ve met Esme,” Sullivan said as he reappeared.

“Yes, she so nicely offered to get me a drink.”

Sullivan waved her off. “I’m taking Saidy out for lunch. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” He handed her an envelope from his bag, and she nodded.

“See you tomorrow.”

Ambrosia barked excitedly, and Esme glared at it, telling it ‘no’ sharply. I liked her.

“Esme, Fletcher said he was planning on giving you a ride home again,” Sullivan told her with a smile.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile before she turned and disappeared down the hall.

I was left alone with Sullivan. The man my boyfriend was investigating.

He had a satchel over his shoulder. “Would you feel more comfortable driving yourself?”

Wow. Was my nervousness that apparent? It probably was.

“Sure. I’ll follow you there if that works. With the dog and all too…sometimes he gets car sick, even on short rides, and we wouldn’t want that in your car. Plus, I have to go check in on a project after lunch, so it’d be great if I could take off straight from there.” I tried to play off the fact that I was driving myself and that I was simply a workaholic. Not a scaredy cat who was convinced he’d murder me if given half a chance.

He smiled and opened the front door. “There’s a little bistro in town I like to go to, if that sounds all right with you. It’s not the Italian dinner I had in mind, but it’s a decent place.”

A bistro sounded nice. Non-threatening. It was like he was going out of his way to make me comfortable. Which was strange. He’d been pushy the night before. Now he was being downright reluctant to push my boundaries.

I wasn’t going to complain though. If I could distract him from Fletcher, maybe I could keep him safe.

I followed Sullivan’s big SUV to the small bistro. I recognized it as a little restaurant my mom and I had tried before—and enjoyed. It had outdoor seating in the front and the back, along with a few small tables inside.

I stood at the door waiting for Sullivan to get off the phone and come inside.

Ambrosia was busy running circles around my legs as I stood outside the bistro’s entrance.

A couple minutes later and Sullivan climbed out of his car and made his way over to me. I wasn’t sure who made me more uncomfortable at the moment: the criminal or the dog who was trying to chew the back of my shoe.

“Sorry to make you wait. You know how business is. It never ends.” He glanced down at the dog. “It’s coming with us?”

I pointed to the sign that showed that dogs were welcome.

“In that case.” He held the door open for me, the satchel still over his shoulder. We ordered lunch.

Actually, he ordered us both lunch because I couldn’t seem to get my words to work. Then he led us to a small table on the back patio.

A few fumbling attempts and I managed to tie Ambrosia’s leash to an extra metal chair.

When I sat down, my elbow knocked the metal chair to my right, sending a shooting pain straight to my soul.

“Are you all right?” Sullivan asked with a concerned look on his face. “I even heard that hit.”

I rubbed at the sore spot, and in the process knocked my big purse onto the ground.

“I’m just fine. Just fine,” I assured him as I quickly leaned down to pick up my purse.

My forehead connected with the edge of the table and I groaned.

Sullivan leapt up and hurried to my side. I leaned back quickly, accidentally kicking a table leg and sloshing water out of our cups.

Sullivan’s low chuckle made me want to run.

“Here. Why don’t you sit still a minute?” He slid my chair backward—with me in it—a few inches, then he knelt down and picked up all the contents of my purse, putting them away. I cringed as I watched him pick