Head Over Heels: A Rock Star Fake Marriage (Southern Temptations Book 2)

by Roxy Wynn

  Well maybe if you didn’t operate outside the law for a day job, you wouldn’t have to worry about stuff like that.

  “Right.” He nodded his head. “I would call him, but knowing Alfie, he’s left his phone to die, or abandoned it somewhere…”

  Well, this was off to an interesting start.

  Calloway puckered her lips like she was sucking a lemon, but gestured for the three of us to take the elevator. Oliver led the way, holding the door open for us like the gentleman he was. While the two of them stood silently waiting, I was giddy thinking of what I would say to Alfie. I had so much to ask him about Station Girl.

  “I really do apologize for this,” he said, gesturing for me to step out once we reached our top floor destination. The manners on this guy were impeccable. “I wish he could have followed the instructions just this once.”

  I found the statement odd. Did Alfie have problems following directions? On Music Makers he seemed like a stand up guy, but reality TV could be deceiving. The idea of Calloway having to do this several more times with other women amused me. Serves her right.

  When we arrived at the penthouse door, I heard the faint sound of giggling coming from inside. Oliver huffed and put his ear to the door, listening, before knocking. When he pulled his head back, he was frowning.

  More quiet laughter and whispers followed, and then a moment later, three women filed out the door. They could have starred in a Whitesnake video with their heavily bleached hair, exaggerated makeup, and tons of tattoos. My heart sank. All the clues were pointing to Alfie being a creep. Maybe getting to meeting him wasn’t such a great idea after all.

  What was the old saying? Never meet your heroes? If he was a sleezy asshole, I would be so disappointed.

  “Bye, Loves,” a voice bellowed from the other side of the door. It was a deep, rich voice that came out with a very thick northern England accent. I knew that voice well.

  When he came into view, Alfie Lane was not at all what I expected. He still had the same good looks and handsome bone structure I remembered from Music Makers, but he also had the disheveled appearance of someone who had been on a forty-eight-hour bender. His usually clean-shaven face was covered in stubble, and his dark brown locks stood up in defiance.

  And did I mention he was wearing nothing but boxer briefs? I don’t care how sexy your body is, when you have a meeting with strangers, at least have the decency to wear pants.

  “Oh, Maggie, you forgot your earrings,” he said, scrambling to hand them to a girl with multicolored unicorn hair. If it were styled properly, it would be beautiful, but it was obvious this girl did the job herself in the bathroom. She raced back to Alfie and collected the giant glittery hoops in her hand, before kissing him on the cheek and joining the rest of her friends who stood waiting for the elevator.

  Alfie waved at the trio before giving his attention to Oliver. “Are you early?” He peered down at his wrist, to a watch that wasn’t there. “I could have sworn we said nine. Is it nine already?”

  In less than a minute, Oliver had turned a shade of red I had only seen in our industrial strength food coloring. While I stared at the trio of young girls, I had missed how comically angry Oliver had become. I expected steam to pour from his ears.

  “Alfie,” he said between clenched teeth. “We are right on time.” He glanced down to Alfie’s lack of pants. “Go into your room and put something appropriate on for the love of God.”

  Mrs. Calloway had her hand over her eyes as if that would make the situation go away, or transport her to a more appropriate situation. Bailey used the same tactic the time he drew all over his bedroom wall with sharpie. It didn’t work for him and it sure as hell wasn’t working for her.

  “Right,” Alfie said, cheerfully. “Come on in then, I’ll throw on some trousers, and we can get to business.” He turned away and strutted to a back room while Oliver took deep breaths, trying to regain his composure. I counted to ten in my head before he got himself under control again.

  “Ladies, let’s take a seat, shall we?”

  Wow. So they really were going to just go on with this meeting? The longer I played along, the worse I felt. Like sitting through a time share presentation for tickets to a theme park when you know you have no intention of buying anything.

  He held out a chair for me, and I took a seat, watching Alfie with morbid curiosity. Sure, he was a grown man in a pair of maroon briefs in a room of new acquaintances, but since he had no shame, I figured a quick peek wouldn’t hurt. I was stuck there, why not?

  Singing softly and picking clothes out of his closet, he searched for the perfect outfit. He took hanger after hanger out and inspected its contents before tossing it carelessly to his bed. Finally, after vetoing several choices, he settled on a slim fit pair of tan pants cut just above the ankle, and a Def Leppard T-shirt that he tucked in. The look was an odd one, but at least he was wearing pants.

  This was one of those classic situations depicting expectation versus reality. You know, the ones on Buzzfeed with a gorgeous item for sale, but when you get it, it’s a hot mess? That was Alfie Lane personified. I went in expecting some amazing rock star, and instead I was face to face with a weirdo.

  A sexy weirdo, but still a weirdo.

  Since Music Makers wrapped, Alfie had been hitting the gym, but he wasn’t some enormous muscle man. Instead, he was long and lean, with a well toned swimmer’s body. The only bulky part of him were his thick biceps, covered in tattoos, that stretched the sleeves of his T-shirt. It gave him a delicious bad boy vibe.

  I was still staring when he looked up, caught my eye, and winked.

  Shit.

  Quickly turning to Calloway, I leaned in and whispered. “I’m just going to get my autograph and bounce. I have a ton of work to do today and all of this…” I gestured to the presidential suite that looked like it just hosted a frat party. “Is crazy.”

  Calloway put her hand on my arm and whispered. “You WILL stay put. We have put too much time into this to get up and walk away.”

  I scoffed. I didn’t know what the hell Calloway was referring to. We had been here less than an hour. But I pulled my arm out of her grasp and stayed in my seat, my curiosity getting the best of me. No doubt she had her hands full if she was going to find a wife for this guy. If I were her, I would be freaking out too. His party habits and choice of women were abysmal. No one in their right mind would agree to this unless Calloway coughed up a lot more cash.

  I ran my finger along the length of the table and when I turned it toward my face, it was covered in glitter. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

  “Right,” Alfie said, taking a seat next to Oliver on the opposite side of the table. His gaze bounced from Calloway to me and back again. “Which one of you nice young ladies wants to marry a rock star?”

  I rolled my eyes but stayed silent, realizing this was a total waste of my morning.

  Chapter Six

  Alfie

  It wasn’t until I heard Oliver’s incessant knocking that I realized the amount of trouble I was about to be in. Last thing I remembered was tearing off all of my clothes the night before because one of the girls cranked the heat. She complained the air conditioner was too cold, so she turned it off. An hour later, on the couch by myself, I was drenched in sweat.

  Ollie specifically warned me not to fuck this up, and here I was throwing three women out of my room in what looked like a very risqué situation.

  Needing to sample some of Louisiana’s infamous music scene, I wandered out by myself last night. I wanted to behave, I really, really did. But one thing led to another, and next thing I knew, I was on stage jamming with talented musicians having the time of my life.

  Then I met Heather, the bassist for a female punk group, had several more drinks, and ended up taking the entire band back to my flat to compose our new punk album.

  At least, that was the plan. It ended up being terrible noise, but either way we had a blast. Of course, with punk music, terrible
noise is occasionally the point.

  Now, I had my knob on display, and no one but myself to blame.

  What a wanker.

  Having a room of strangers see you in your knickers is one thing, but when your bride might be in that group of strangers, it was another thing entirely. To my surprise, the small brunette didn’t seem as upset as the old lady did. When she was in the hall, she was covering her eyes as if I had my cock out and tried to slap her in the face with it.

  After settling in, Ollie read aloud from a paper. “We are here today to see if the union of these two individuals would be in the best interest of the group. I am representing Alfred Lane, and Eleanor Calloway is here for Sarah Taylor.”

  The old woman shifted in her seat, presumably happy my trousers were firmly in place. “Rest assured, Mr. Kelly,” she said. “My associates and I have facilitated several successful unions. Each have passed the marriage interview with flying colors. We provide a beautiful wedding with all the bells and whistles proving how in love our couple is.”

  She turned then to the younger brunette and held her hand, like a grandmother would, smiling. The younger woman flared her nostrils and rolled her eyes. I liked her instantly.

  “Listen, it was a pleasure meeting you Oliver,” Sarah said, ripping her hand from the old woman’s grip. “And Alfie, I’m a little surprised at the whole trio of young women that left the building when we got here, but you do you. I’ve seen Rock of Love, I know a thing or two about how rock stars operate.” She pulled a CD out of her purse and handed it to me. “Can you sign Station Girl for me? My son and I love this one. Your music is beautiful, but I just can’t with all of… this.”

  The old woman bristled again and pulled Sarah down in her seat. The two of them had an odd dynamic I was very interested in learning about.

  Grandmother? More like the witch in Hansel and Gretel…

  “Please, Mr. Kelly and Mr. Lane, continue with your offer. Sarah is just… concerned for the well being of her son, Bailey. We don’t want him corrupted at such a young age.” She glared at me like I might sprout horns at any moment. A part of me wished I could, just to rile her up.

  Oliver gave me his ‘behave or I’ll kill you’ look and turned on his charm.

  “Mrs. Calloway, Alfie and I believe Sarah is an ideal match. We are trying to convey a more wholesome image for Mr. Lane, and a young woman with a son is perfect.”

  Sarah looked from Oliver, to Mrs. Calloway, and then to me. “You guys are crazy. There’s no way in hell I’m going to expose my kid to this. Growing up around this shit is why therapists make so much money. Or worse! What if my kid grows up like Norman Bates and talks to my corpse because he’s so fucked up? Sorry, no thank you.”

  “Was it the shirt that offended you, Love?” I asked.

  Sarah looked me in the eyes for the first time since I caught her checking me out in my bedroom. “No, this is most certainly not ‘love’.”

  “Ms. Taylor, our offer is for you to come out of this in one year two hundred thousand dollars richer with a house and access to our top-notch lawyer. In exchange, we ask for minimal interaction with Alfie. A brief time for the courting process, a public engagement party, and one year of marriage,” Oliver said.

  I had to hand it to the bloke, he always knew how to sell me.

  The old woman nodded her head in agreement and addressed Sarah. “You don’t have to decide straight away, but Mr. Lane has already over stayed his visa. If we don’t facilitate this process soon, they may not allow him to return.”

  “How is any of that my problem?” Sarah asked. I had to hand it to her, not only was she gorgeous, she was also a spit fire. A real strong woman. Tiny, but fierce. If Ollie was able to smooth things over, and we ended up married, I would have a hell of a time getting away with anything around her.

  The old woman changed then, from the helpful grandmother back to the witch. “Because dear, you need access to the best lawyer money can buy, and because you need a husband in your life. Fake or not, the judge will see you in a favorable light if you are married.”

  Sarah scowled at me again. God, she was perfect. I hardly even knew her, but I knew I wanted her, and I did not like the hatred in her eyes. She didn’t know me well enough to hate me yet.

  “Listen,” I said, looking into her beautiful brown eyes. “You and I got off to an inauspicious start. I’m not a bad bloke.” I stood up and walked around to her side of the table, knelt, and took her tiny hand. “My sincere apologies for what you witnessed this morning. For what it’s worth, I know how it looked and it’s not what it seemed.”

  Sarah scoffed and pulled her hand away, but I continued.

  “You have no reason to trust me, and I don’t blame you if you never do, but just give me a chance to redeem myself. Let’s have dinner, you and I, to get to know one another. From there, if you hate me, then say no to all of this and I’ll find someone else.”

  Ollie and the old bag held their breath while Sarah stared straight ahead, thinking. She had no reason to agree to any of this, and I couldn’t blame her if she wanted to walk out. But I hoped she wouldn’t. If this meeting was any indication of her as a person, I was in for a ride.

  “Fine,” she said. Everyone let out the breath they had been holding. “I will think about this. But that’s it. I’m not signing anything today, I’m just not saying no.”

  “Thank you,” I said, reaching for that little hand again. She pulled it away quickly and collected her things.

  “I will call you tomorrow,” she said to the old woman who nodded her head in resignation.

  Grabbing the forgotten CD off the table, I followed her to the door. For how short she was, her legs moved remarkably fast. “I meant what I said about dinner… or lunch, or tea. Whatever you prefer. Just don’t say no based on my behavior this morning.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I have a kid I have to worry about. Nothing matters but him.” She stared at me pleadingly. If this were a different situation, I would kiss her. But now wasn’t the time.

  “I understand that. I really do. Here.” I placed the CD back in her hand, and for one quick moment, I saw her smile.

  Jackpot.

  Chapter Seven

  Sarah

  Taking my time, I walked back to Ruby’s, replaying that weird-ass meeting through my mind. What was Alfie’s deal? From what I saw the man didn’t even want to be married. You don’t answer the door in your underpants with a gaggle of women if you do.

  No matter how many times I thought about him, I couldn’t find any silver lining or redeeming qualities in Alfie Lane. I tried, but the man was frustrating and the exact opposite of what I needed in my life right now.

  With Bailey starting kindergarten soon and the bakery doing better than ever, I was thrilled with my life. Sure, I would like to find someone special to spend it with, but having a husband wasn’t a priority to me. I didn’t care for internet dating and preferred to do things at my snail pace. It was comfortable for me.

  Getting married to a stranger was a gamble I didn’t want to take, no matter how much I loved his music.

  The only part that appealed to me was the access to his lawyer. If Eli took me to court, I would win. But there was still a nagging voice in my head reminding me that while courts often favored mothers, they will still push for shared custody with fathers, even when said father valued Taco Bell over his child.

  If Eli hadn’t screwed everything up, I would tell Calloway to shove her marriage proposal right up her ass. But that’s not the way it was. A lawyer and a ‘father’ no matter how fake he was, was a check for the Alfie ‘pro’ list.

  Meanwhile, the ‘con’ list was a mile long.

  Walking into the bakery, I slipped past the cafe line and headed around the register into the kitchen. I looked around for Chrissy before making a B-Line into the storage closet, where Tiffany and Kenneth were busy working on a surprise baby shower cake. We all knew dry storage was the one place Chrissy wouldn’t go since there
were no ready to eat snacks.

  I took one glance at the disgusting take on a diaper cake and immediately approved. The inside of the cake was coffee with a caramel heath bar buttercream frosting. The outside was a heap of realistic fondant diapers filled with melted candy bars. A work of art if I didn’t say so myself.

  “Guys, this is the most amazing cake I’ve ever seen,” I said. “Bravo!”

  Kenneth, whose uniform was covered in chocolate fingerprints, took a step back and surveyed his handiwork. I had to hand it to the guy, his cake skills were top notch.

  “You don’t think the diapers look too real?” Tiffany asked. “I showed my mom a picture, and she was horrified.”

  I laughed. “No, I love it. The more realistic the better. Do you think it’ll be done by Sunday?”

  Kenneth gestured to a pile of melted Snickers bars. “Yup. Just have to add these to a few of the empty diapers, and it’ll be good to go.”

  Clapping him on the shoulder, I beamed at him. “Great, keep up the good work.”

  I opened the door again, Keeping an eye out for Chrissy, so I didn’t ruin her surprise. From the crack in the door, I spied her in the office sitting at her computer.

  Perfect.

  Slipping out, I closed the door behind me and tried to act natural, like I just stopped in on my day off to visit. When I knocked on the office door, she smiled up at me from her pile of menus. “Hey! What are you doing here? I was trying to menu plan for the expansion. I’m wondering if we should hire a fancy pastry chef to be the face of this thing.”

  I took a seat across from her and put my feet up on the desk.

  “Cute shoes,” she said.

  “Thank you. I had a meeting this morning and wanted to look professional.”