Page 31 of The Dating Charade

“What?” Kennedy said.

“I’m going to have to talk with the nice firemen for a minute, so how about you go with Star to—” Cassie fumbled momentarily, searching for some interesting, quiet activity “—get ready for bed?”

Their eyes stared back at her blankly.

Yeah. She’d have to work on her motherly, summon-inspired-ideas-on-command skills.

“And . . . ,” Cassie said with emphasis as the sirens grew louder. They blinked their glassy eyes. “Wear your pretty new pajamas!”

Kennedy’s brows furrowed. Cassie was getting worse.

“And eat brownies? In bed?” Cassie asked.

Bingo.

“All the brownies!” Kennedy squealed, hopping a few times.

“Sure!” Cassie responded with equal enthusiasm.

“And a movie!” Kennedy added.

“Why not?” Cassie said, hopping along with her.

Kennedy’s voice shrilled like an excited kitten. “And Mountain Dew!”

A squeal of brakes sounded at her doorstep. Cassie’s hopping stopped. Not even forty-eight hours in, and all her grandiose plans for healthy snacks and activities were flying out the window. She nudged the girls toward the steps. “Yeah! I don’t have Mountain Dew, but yeah! Whatever I can find in the refrigerator.”

Television. Chocolate. Soda. Might as well throw in a cigarette for the road.

She kicked a box of crayons underneath the sofa, crammed a stack of construction paper into the drawer of a side table, shoved the glittery unicorn backpacks into the closet. Catching sight of herself in the mirror above the fireplace, she pushed down the lump at the top of her messy bun. The sounds of vehicle doors opening and closing came just as she tossed the last can of Coke to Star up the stairs.

She paused and took a breath. It felt awkward hiding the girls upstairs like a big secret. Awkward. And made her feel a bit guilty.

But if the man of her twenty-four-hour dreams just so happened to be on the other side of that door, and the girls were all sitting around eating bonbons, two things could happen. Jett could shrug his shoulders, laugh about the little mishap with the cat, and—without showing any recognition of the three strange children in her house at all—go about his merry business.

Or, and what was about 99 percent likely, he could ask.

Oh, and who are these lovely ladies? Oh. How long are they staying? Well, what did their social worker say? And if she can’t find any other relatives? Insert the bulging eyes. You mean you are planning to adopt these kids if given the chance? These three kids? The teenager? All three?

And then he’d trip over his own ax as he stumbled out the door.

There was another rule for her future bestseller on dating: never freak a guy out with three kids twenty-four hours after your first date.

No, she wouldn’t lie to Jett about the girls if he asked. Not on a matter this significant to her heart. She wouldn’t lie . . . which was exactly why she had to hide them.

It was the only moral thing to do.

A knock sounded on the door. Game time.

“Jett. Why, hello.” Cassie plastered on a cool and confident smile as she swung open the door.

“Cassie?” Jett popped off his helmet and put it to his hip. He grinned. “Gotta say I wasn’t expecting you here.”

“You either.” Boy, was that the understatement of the year.

“Was expecting someone half your size, actually.” He volleyed his head, his gaze roving around the living room.

“Oh? Well, you got me.”