Fake it Til You Break It: +One, Book 5
M/M Contemporary Romance | Slow-Burn Tension | Close Calls | Blurred Lines
Available with Kindle Unlimited
Jasper Ryan has spent his entire life faking it. He smiles on cue, nods when expected, and endures all the banal small talk. It’s exhausting, and without his favorite plus-one, he’s flailing. Worse, since Project SafeHouse depends on donations from the city’s elite, if he doesn’t get it together soon, his social standing won’t be the only thing on shaky ground.
Reluctantly, he turns to +One. All he needed was a buffer. What he gets is Beckett Shaw.
Adept at navigating the nuances of social etiquette, Beckett knows when to blend in and when to stand out. But none of the usual rules apply when it comes to Jasper. Shy, anxious, too polite for his own good—the guy is a walking disaster wrapped in cashmere. And while he’s comfortable being a hired shield, the more time they spend together, the harder it becomes to remember that’s all he is.
It was supposed to be simple. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. But every touch lingers, every glance sparks, and now, pretending is no longer an option.
Because if Beckett has his way?
Jasper won’t have to fake a damn thing.
Reluctantly, he turns to +One. All he needed was a buffer. What he gets is Beckett Shaw.
Adept at navigating the nuances of social etiquette, Beckett knows when to blend in and when to stand out. But none of the usual rules apply when it comes to Jasper. Shy, anxious, too polite for his own good—the guy is a walking disaster wrapped in cashmere. And while he’s comfortable being a hired shield, the more time they spend together, the harder it becomes to remember that’s all he is.
It was supposed to be simple. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. But every touch lingers, every glance sparks, and now, pretending is no longer an option.
Because if Beckett has his way?
Jasper won’t have to fake a damn thing.
Excerpt
“Mr. Ryan?”
Ah, Jessa and Amber were back.
“I know, I know.” I chuckled as I turned. “I’m coming.”
The laughter died in my throat. The air leached from my lungs. And my heart attempted to crawl out of my mouth.
Tall, with broad shoulders and a crooked smile, Beckett Shaw stood just behind the girls. He appeared relaxed, his arms resting at his sides, and when our eyes met, his smile stretched a little wider.
He dipped his head in greeting. “Jasper.”
My name, spoken with casual familiarity in that deep, smooth voice, made my head spin and my pulse stutter, but I brushed it off. Probably just nerves from being caught off guard.
I had seen Beckett Shaw at different parties and events around the city, and we had spoken once or twice in passing. I wouldn’t, however, consider us friends, or even on a first-name basis.
Clearly, he thought differently.
“Thank you, girls.”
I gave them each a pointed look, indicating they should head back inside. The last thing I needed was an audience to my awkwardness.
They leaned against one another and giggled, but they didn’t argue. The dirty little traitors. They knew exactly what they had done, and judging by their expressions, they were quite pleased with themselves, too.
“Jessa and Amber said you were working,” Beckett explained. “I thought it would be easier if I came to you.”
While the second part of that statement could be debated, it didn’t escape my notice that he had taken the time to learn their names. It might not seem like much, but for these kids—kids who had so little—identity meant everything.
And it raised him a couple of degrees in my estimation.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” No sense in pretending I hadn’t been in the wrong. “And I apologize for my appearance.” As I spoke, I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and tugged self-consciously at the hem of my shirt. “I promise I’m usually better about managing my time.”
The fact that he had also dressed casually in a pair of dark wash jeans and a simple blue V-neck did nothing to lessen my anxiety. Not when he wore it so well, and especially not when the soft material hugged every hard muscle of his upper body.
“You’re a busy man. That’s nothing to apologize for.” A quiet, indulgent chuckle rolled off his lips. “It’s not like I expected to find you playing basketball in a jacket and tie.” His gaze raked over me. Slow. Assessing. “This suits you.”
My entire being short-circuited at the unexpected flattery, and I had no idea what to say in response. To thank him meant I agreed. Which sounded a little conceited. To say nothing, though, felt rude.
“That’s nice of you to say.” That seemed neutral enough.
“I’m not nice,” Beckett corrected. “I’m honest.”
I blinked at him, malfunctioning like a faulty light switch while I grasped for, and failed, at something to say. Thankfully, I had a lot of practice faking social competency, even if I wore it like an ill-fitting cardigan.
“Should we head to my office?”
I took a step forward but stopped when he didn’t move. He studied me now, his pale blue eyes creased at the corners, and that easygoing smile morphed into something sharper.
“Jasper?”
A shiver rippled through me, and I really wished he would stop saying my name like that. “Yes?”
“Take the compliment.”
Ah, Jessa and Amber were back.
“I know, I know.” I chuckled as I turned. “I’m coming.”
The laughter died in my throat. The air leached from my lungs. And my heart attempted to crawl out of my mouth.
Tall, with broad shoulders and a crooked smile, Beckett Shaw stood just behind the girls. He appeared relaxed, his arms resting at his sides, and when our eyes met, his smile stretched a little wider.
He dipped his head in greeting. “Jasper.”
My name, spoken with casual familiarity in that deep, smooth voice, made my head spin and my pulse stutter, but I brushed it off. Probably just nerves from being caught off guard.
I had seen Beckett Shaw at different parties and events around the city, and we had spoken once or twice in passing. I wouldn’t, however, consider us friends, or even on a first-name basis.
Clearly, he thought differently.
“Thank you, girls.”
I gave them each a pointed look, indicating they should head back inside. The last thing I needed was an audience to my awkwardness.
They leaned against one another and giggled, but they didn’t argue. The dirty little traitors. They knew exactly what they had done, and judging by their expressions, they were quite pleased with themselves, too.
“Jessa and Amber said you were working,” Beckett explained. “I thought it would be easier if I came to you.”
While the second part of that statement could be debated, it didn’t escape my notice that he had taken the time to learn their names. It might not seem like much, but for these kids—kids who had so little—identity meant everything.
And it raised him a couple of degrees in my estimation.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” No sense in pretending I hadn’t been in the wrong. “And I apologize for my appearance.” As I spoke, I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and tugged self-consciously at the hem of my shirt. “I promise I’m usually better about managing my time.”
The fact that he had also dressed casually in a pair of dark wash jeans and a simple blue V-neck did nothing to lessen my anxiety. Not when he wore it so well, and especially not when the soft material hugged every hard muscle of his upper body.
“You’re a busy man. That’s nothing to apologize for.” A quiet, indulgent chuckle rolled off his lips. “It’s not like I expected to find you playing basketball in a jacket and tie.” His gaze raked over me. Slow. Assessing. “This suits you.”
My entire being short-circuited at the unexpected flattery, and I had no idea what to say in response. To thank him meant I agreed. Which sounded a little conceited. To say nothing, though, felt rude.
“That’s nice of you to say.” That seemed neutral enough.
“I’m not nice,” Beckett corrected. “I’m honest.”
I blinked at him, malfunctioning like a faulty light switch while I grasped for, and failed, at something to say. Thankfully, I had a lot of practice faking social competency, even if I wore it like an ill-fitting cardigan.
“Should we head to my office?”
I took a step forward but stopped when he didn’t move. He studied me now, his pale blue eyes creased at the corners, and that easygoing smile morphed into something sharper.
“Jasper?”
A shiver rippled through me, and I really wished he would stop saying my name like that. “Yes?”
“Take the compliment.”