his chin. His stubble had grown since she’d seen him in person, and he looked rugged and masculine, and conventionally attractive enough to fool the internet, she supposed. “It’s a cynical world,” the liar said. “I think people want love and romance and happy endings.”
Katrina wanted those things, too, but she wanted them in reality. Not the fantasy these people were spinning.
“How do you feel about being the hero in this love story?”
Ross laughed. “You know, I think the real heroes are the ones who documented it for the world. Becca and her dear hubby.”
Whaaaaat. The video cut to the studio and Becca and her dear hubby—gag—whose name turned out to be Alan, according to the chyron on the bottom of the screen.
Katrina squinted at the brown-haired man. Oh right. The entirely forgettable guy who had been with Becca at the café. Nice, she had another person to focus her ire on.
“We were so captivated by the thought that we were witnessing love in real time,” Becca gushed. Alan nodded enthusiastically. “I suppose the rest of the world was too.”
“There was no love,” Katrina muttered. Jas took a measured sip of his juice, but was silent.
“I just want them to be happy, truly,” Becca said, and tittered. “And maybe invite us to the wedding.”
“They’ll have to invite the whole internet to their wedding,” Alan joked.
The video cut to Ross. “How did you feel when you first saw CuteCafeGirl, Ross?”
“Oh, I thought she was beautiful and stunning. Intelligent. And we had so much in common, right off the bat.” He pressed his hand to his hairless chest. Why was he still shirtless? Wasn’t he cold? “We’re both animal lovers, for one. And the more we talk, the more we find out about each other.”
She jerked. Jas stilled next to her. What? Had he said talk? Not talked?
“So you two are still in contact with each other?”
“Yes.” His dimples flashed. “Kat’s a little shy, but she’s as delighted as I am that our story has inspired so many people.”
“Is there going to be a fairy-tale wedding?”
Ross winked. “Time will tell.”
Katrina shut the TV off with a snap of the remote. “It’s . . . he . . .”
“What a motherfucking asshole.” Jas’s calm pronouncement had her turning to face him. He met her gaze. “He’s on TV saying you guys are still talking to each other. This is going beyond the lies he spun before. He’s . . . he’s enjoying this fame. So is the woman. And you had to leave your own damn home.” He launched to his feet and ran his hands through his hair until it was spiked up. “This is so unfair.”
She watched him, bemused. It was all stuff she’d said yesterday, when he’d sat so calmly and listened to her.
It was like a trade, she supposed. Now that he was upset, her own ire deflated. “It is unfair,” she agreed. “But that’s how it’s going.” Her smile was wobbly. “One superpower my brain gives me is that I’m always low-key prepped for the worst. This scenario wasn’t one I considered, but it’s not the absolute worst.”
He growled.
“To be honest, I truly expected them to go on television and rattle off my name and Social Security number.” Katrina winced. “He gave the internet my nickname, so, like, not great, but it really could have been worse.” She rose and dared to place her hand on Jas’s arm. “You know what? Next couple of days, let’s try to focus on other things. Not stress too much until we have to. It’s okay. We can handle this.”
He looked down at her hand. “You’re right. We can handle it.”
She let her lashes conceal her eyes as she turned away and picked up their plates, Doodle coming to her feet, tongue sticking out in anticipation of returning to the kitchen.
It had sounded a little too much like a vow, those words coming from him. We can handle it.
She’s a client.
She’d take her own advice and stay focused on other things, like enjoying this time, tucked away in this adorable little farmhouse, with her dear friend.
Chapter Fourteen
IF JAS DIDN’T leave the house soon, Katrina was going to kill him.
Okay, kill was, perhaps, too strong a word.
Tap, tap, tap.
Katrina’s eye twitched. Or not strong enough.
Doubtful anyone else would be annoyed by Jas tapping a pen on the table while he worked on his laptop, but repetitive noises made her head ache. Especially since he’d been doing it for the last two whole hours.