"Serious scheming, you mean," Selma said, with a thank you wave toward Eric.
"Scheming?" Hannah repeated after Tiffany had moved to another table.
"Sure. We just need to find you a relationship. And as for permanence, I'm thinking it only has to be true love until the money's in your hand."
"Yeah, well, I like the way you think." And, honestly, she felt no guilt at all about the possibility of pulling a con on her mom and stepdad. After all, Ernest was practically drowning in money, so it wasn't as if her mom needed the funds. And Hannah's father's wish was for her to have the money. As far as she was concerned, her mom had been playing dirty. And if Hannah had to jump in the mud to get what was hers, then that's what she would do.
Except she needed someone to jump with her, and there wasn't anyone on the horizon. "The problem is that my only option for a potential fake relationship--one that wasn't even really a lie--doesn't work anymore."
"Yeah? Who?"
"Easton."
Selma's eyes went wide and she crossed her arms over her chest. "And it wouldn't be a lie because why?"
Hannah flashed an impish grin. "Because we're partners, right?"
Selma snorted. "True that."
"But seriously, even if I wanted to use Easton as my beard, it wouldn't work. Ernest comes to Austin pretty frequently, and eventually he'd see you and Easton together. And somehow I don't think he'd appreciate my man cheating on me."
"Probably not. Plan B?"
"If I'm going to do this--and I am, because what choice do I have--I need to have a believable relationship, probably an engagement. I can share the wonderful news this weekend at their annual wedding anniversary party. And then later I can call my mom in tears to tell her about our catastrophic breakup. After the money is in my hands, of course."
"Fair enough. Who?"
She glanced around the bar. Saw a few of her friends who were already paired
off as well as several customers she didn't recognize. "I have no idea. Maybe I need to step into the land of fiction. Jean Paul. And he's a French archeologist who teaches at Stanford, but we met when he was doing a seminar in Austin, and now he's on a dig in Africa. But we're madly in love and we're planning a wedding in Provence."
"I thought lawyers were supposed to be better liars."
"Funny. As far as I'm concerned, Jean Paul is the perfect boyfriend."
"Not even close. The secret to lying is sticking close to the truth. Everyone knows that."
"So what are you saying?" Hanna asked.
A wide, slow smile slid across Selma's face. "I'm saying you need to leave it to me."
Chapter Three
"Come on, Griff," Matthew Herrington said as he spotted his newest personal training client. "One more, and you'll hit a personal best."
"Keep goading me, and I'll hit you," Griffin snarled, his arms shaking as he pushed the barbell up higher and higher until Matthew caught it and helped rack the weight.
"That was spectacular," Matthew said, with genuine enthusiasm.
"No kidding." Selma's voice filtered in from across the gym--the locked gym--and she started walking over. "How long have you been training, Griff?"
"Not long," Griffin mumbled, his head ducked as he sat up, then shrugged back into his ever-present hoodie. He zipped the jacket and stood, his back to Selma. "I'm going to go hit the shower. See you around, Selma," he called over his shoulder as he trotted toward the back of the gym.
As soon as he heard the locker room door snap shut, Matthew rounded on his sister. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"With me? What are you talking about?"
"The man was working out in gym shorts and a tank top. What the hell do you think I'm talking about?"