“So, am I driving you home Little Miss Stubborn?” They were approaching town, the big sign saying Welcome to Forever Falls growing larger off to the side of the road. It had been a long time since she’d seen that sign. A long time since she’d set foot out of her hometown.
“Fine,” she conceded.
“Make it sound more like I’m holding a gun to your head.” He laughed, reaching for his blinker so he could turn off the big coastal road.
“Actually, don’t turn here,” Monroe said. “Take the next exit.”
“Sure thing.”
Ethan drove them along a little way farther, taking a much smaller exit that led to a winding road through the back of Forever Falls. This part of the town was filled with small houses in various states of repair. Slowly melting snow drifts punctuated the streets, and large, bare trees lined both sides. The road swept left and then right, looking almost like a child had drawn the lines.
“Turn here.” She pointed to another street. On the corner, a big yellow house sat like a candy shop confection amidst a sea of white clapboard and standard brown brick. “And then here.”
“Why does this feel like you’re leading me through a maze?” Ethan said as he slowed the rental down and then eased into a blind corner. “This isn’t even a road.”
The alleyway ran behind Main Street. On either side there were the backs of the shops, the section of restaurants and bakeries all with big green dumpsters behind them. As they moved into the retail section, the backs of the shops looked nicer. On the other side of the road were big fences, blocking off the backyards of the houses facing the opposite direction. The alley was barely big enough for Ethan’s large rental SUV, and he cringed as they went through a particularly narrow gap.
“Then left here, immediately followed by a right.” Monroe pointed. They were back on Main Street again and only a few blocks from her little apartment.
As Ethan pulled up at a stop light, he turned to her, a puzzled expression on his face. “Wouldn’t it have been way easier to go down Main Street the whole way?”
This was why she didn’t want him to take her home. Not because she had any concerns about him knowing her address or anything like that. But because Monroe had…a quirk.
Don’t tell him about that. He’s going to think you’re ridiculous.
“Traffic backs up Main Street on the weekend,” she said with a shrug. “It’s quicker to take the back streets.”
Ethan looked dubious, but in the end he shrugged. It was starting to rain now, and tiny drops splattered against the windshield. Monroe directed him to pull up in front of her apartment, which sat above the Polish bakery run by her landlord, Magdalena. The older woman was out front, ready to pull in her sign as she closed up shop for the day. She caught sight of Monroe in the car and waved, then she stopped and stared, not even trying to hide her curiosity.
“I think we’re being watched,” Ethan said.
“That’s my landlord.” Monroe laughed. Magdalena was fussing with the sign as if buying herself some time. “She’s been trying to set me up with her nephew for years.”
“Should I be jealous?” Ethan asked with an amused smile.
“He’s thirty-three, balding, and he lives in his mother’s basement. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Maybe I should play the part so she doesn’t get any ideas.” Ethan had turned in his seat to face Monroe, a teasing smile on his lips. Oh how she wanted him to play the part. So, so badly.
“You’re a little too good at this, you know. Am I your first fake girlfriend? Be honest now.”
His smile was pure sunshine and warmth. Damn. There was something about Ethan that went far beyond his good looks. Because there were plenty of guys who were good-looking and thought that was enough to skate by on. Plenty who thought that gave them license to be a jerk.
But Ethan was something else. Yeah, at times he seemed like he could be a little broody and mysterious. But hanging out with him today had shown Monroe another side of him—playful, curious, heartfelt. As much as she tried to keep people out, hearing him talk about his search for his father had tugged at the soft, squishy bit she tried real hard to hide.
“Nope, you’re my first. Fake relationship virgin right here.” He grinned. “I don’t know how this is supposed to work.”
“Me neither,” she admitted.
“What if I lean in and pretend I’m kissing you, then? Give your landlord something to gossip about.”
“Works for me.”
As Ethan leaned in, all the air left Monroe’s lungs. Up close she could see the glorious details of him, the faint reddish sheen to some of the blond stubble on his jaw. The multiple shades of blue in his eyes. The tiny little mole on his right cheekbone.
And God did he smell good.
She let her eyes flutter shut as Ethan’s cheek brushed hers. From any other angle it would look like they were kissing and, frankly, Monroe’s body couldn’t seem to tell the difference. It did all the things it usually would if she were actually being kissed.
When Ethan pulled away, she wanted to scramble out of the car and stick her head in a snow drift to cool down a bit. But that would make it obvious that she was all hot and bothered, and she didn’t want him to know that.
“Think it worked?” he asked.
“I’m sure it did. It would have looked legit.” She nodded. “So, what’s the next step in your plans?”
Yes, a change of conversation. Very good, brain.
“I need to go and see the guy who runs the Ghost Tours on Tuesday. Brian McPhee.”
“Oh, right.” Monroe knew Brian—he’d worked for her dad for a while, before he broke away to run his own business. “Want me to come with? He can be a little cagey around people he doesn’t know.”
“You’d do that?” His face lit up.
“Sure.”
“Thank you, I really appreciate it.”
“You know,” Monroe said. “If I’m helping you with finding your father, then maybe this could be a quid pro quo thing.”
“How so?”
“This stays between us, but…” She swallowed, finding herself feeling surprisingly emotional. “The diner is falling under hard times and my boss is thinking about selling.”
“Really?” Ethan frowned. “That’s no good.”
“I convinced him to give me a month to see if I could turn it around.” She let out a whoosh of breath. “Because what if the person who buys it decides to knock it down and put something else there? Year-round work isn’t the easiest thing to find in a town like this. Most jobs are feast or famine with the flow of tourism, you know? People like Big Frank and Darlene have been working there forever.”
And people like me.
“Whatever I can do to help, count me in. I can take a look at your business processes and bookkeeping systems if you like, see if we can tighten some screws to save money.”
“Thanks.” Monroe nodded. It wasn’t exactly what she had in mind, but she appreciated his willingness to help. No wonder people flocked to Ethan—he was like a magnet. That’s when Monroe had a snap of brilliance. She knew exactly how Ethan could help out the diner.
“Meet me tomorrow? You can have your eggs and then I’ll walk you through my plan.”
“Sure.”
Monroe slid out of the passenger side seat and gave Ethan a wave. Maybe this fake relationship thing wasn’t so ridiculous after all. In fact, if her plan worked the way she’d hoped, then this might have just been the best thing that could have happened to her.
…
Ethan shook his head vehemently. “No, absolutely not.”
He was pretty sure that his darling fake girlfriend had lured him to the diner with the promise of a delicious breakfast, all under the guise of tricking him into her ridiculous plan. And that was saying a lot, since he took responsib
ility for the whole fake relationship thing.
“Oh come on, it’ll be fun,” Monroe cajoled. It even appeared as though she’d dressed extra pretty in an attempt to bend him to her will.
Her curly red hair was swept back into a low bun with several tendrils springing free around her face. She had a pair of silver hoops decorating her ears and a top under her uniform apron that was a pretty shade of green.
“I am not dressing up as Thor to hand out flyers,” he said adamantly.
“Well, it’s more about taking pictures than handing out flyers,” she replied, smiling sweetly.
Oh no. She wasn’t going to retract her prickles and be all sunshine and lightness just to get something out of him. He. Would. Not. Fall. For. It.
“It’s the exact opposite of what I’m trying to do here, which is blend in. How is dressing up in costume and taking photos with people supposed to help me blend in?”
“You’ll be hiding in plain sight,” she argued. “Besides, you promised to help me.”
“No,” he repeated.
“Okay.” Monroe nodded and sat back in her chair, biting on her bottom lip.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. “Why do I feel like you saying okay is just the calm before the storm?”
The corner of her lip twitched. “I don’t know, why do you feel like that?”
“Hmm, maybe because I know a thing or two about fiery women. You never back down from a discussion quite so easily.” He stabbed at a mushroom with his fork.
“Who says I’m fiery?” She wrinkled her nose.
“Me.”
“Oh yes, that’s right. You called me a redheaded cliché.” She rolled her eyes. “I remember that.”
“Well, you said I wasn’t your type, so I guess we can call it even.” He popped the mushroom into his mouth and chewed.
“I stand by it.” She tried to sniff like she was quite happy insulting him, but he caught the sparkle in her eye. Monroe enjoyed the game, that much he could tell. “So you really won’t even consider my idea? I thought it was smart.”
“To bribe people to have a meal so they can get a photo with a guy dressed up as Thor?” He snorted. “And here I was thinking you wanted to make use of my business skills…not my abs.”
“Awww. Are you worried I’m using you for your hot body?” She laughed and slid out of the booth seat across from him. “Maybe a hot Viking is my ultimate sexual fantasy.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waved a hand and she disappeared off into the kitchen to get back to work, the sound of her laughter trailing behind her.
In spite of everything that had gone on this past year, Ethan felt lighter. Happier. Monroe, against all odds, had injected some levity back into his life when it was the last thing he’d expected. Hell, Ethan wasn’t sure he’d smiled once since his mother died. Let alone laughed. Let alone felt a stir of something besides the driving need to accomplish his goal.
But the fact was, Monroe definitely stirred something. And for a few brief moments when he was around her, Ethan felt like the man he used to be.
Chapter Eleven
Dammit. Monroe really had thought dressing Ethan up as Thor to bring more paying customers into the diner was a smart one. A, because if he wasn’t sitting mysteriously in his booth then there was no reason for people to linger unnecessarily. They could get what they wanted—a photo—and be on their way. And B, because Monroe had already tried all the “regular” ideas like trimming back shifts and reducing waste and adding some higher margin items to the menu.
If all the sensible things had already proven not enough, then maybe an outrageous idea would be the thing to move the needle.
Also, there was reason C…that Monroe really wanted to see Ethan dressed up as Thor.
In the kitchen, she found Big Frank at his usual spot by the stoves, flipping pancakes and managing a batch of bacon that was hissing and spitting in a pan. Darlene was swapping out the coffee pots and setting new ones to brew.
“Miss Monroe Roberts,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smiling quite so much since you came home with ten grand in your fist after winning that baking show.”
Ten grand. All of which had immediately gone toward some renovations at her father’s house to make it more accessible for him after his injury. What was left over had paid for the lawyers who helped her file her divorce.
The first part made her happy. But the second… Well, what a waste of money that turned out to be.
“New relationships will do that,” Big Frank said a little wistfully.
“You’re such a romantic,” Monroe teased. She thought it was adorable how the guy still clung to the soft and fuzzy notions of love and wasn’t afraid to show it.
“Or sex,” Darlene replied with a shrug.
Monroe’s mouth popped open and Big Frank chortled at his station.
“What?” Darlene said, shooting them both a look. “I might be old, but I’m not dead. Lots of seniors have very active sex lives, you know. It’s a healthy part of any marriage.”
Monroe really did not want to think about Darlene and her husband getting it on. In large part, that was due to the fact that her husband had been Monroe’s eighth grade science teacher and even now she could only call him Mr. Phillips.
“I can’t believe you kept that secret right under our noses!” Darlene shook her head.
“Oh I saw something.” Big Frank grinned. “Said you two were arguing like an old married couple.”
“Well, let’s not go crazy with the M-word.” Monroe held up both hands. “It’s nothing like that. He’s only been in town a short while, so let’s hold up on the serious relationship talk.”
As if on cue, her phone started buzzing with a call from an unknown number. She had ten more minutes left on her break, just enough time to deal with whoever was calling her and then have a quick glance over the inventory sheet before she went back out onto the floor.
Monroe walked through the back part of the kitchen, past the supply cupboard slash office, and out the back door into the alley behind them. It was a nice day outside, so she figured some sunshine would do her good. She swiped her thumb across the screen of her phone.
“Hello?”
“Monroe.”
Her breath caught in the back of her throat, almost painful in how fast it screeched to a halt. She would know that voice anywhere.
“Brendan,” she replied coldly.
It hurt to hear him say her name. One, because he never used to call her by her full name. She’d always been “Robby” to him—a shortened form of her surname and what he’d called her ever since they were in high school. It was their secret joke. He’d whisper it as he held her at night, in the time when they used to touch one another without hesitation.
Those days were long gone.
“You haven’t responded to the lawyers,” he said. There was noise in the background, something that sounded like a coffee machine and the chatter of people. He was calling from work.
Smart…this is why you should screen your calls.
Only she couldn’t. Monroe lived in fear that one day her dad might have a fall and a neighbor or medical practitioner might be calling her, since she was the first one on the next of kin list.
“I’ve been busy,” she replied. “And you lost the right to expect anything of me the second you started screwing my cousin.”
She could practically feel him wincing through the phone. “Isn’t that old news now? I thought you would want to move on with your life.”
“I have moved on. As far as I’m concerned, we’re divorced and I’ve been living as such.” Let him interpret that however he wanted—despite the fact that her life the past three years had been sad and lonely and gray. She would never admit it out loud. “So this matter of a bit of paperwork doesn’t change anything for me. Hence why it’s not a priority.”
She could practically see him—wearing a dark suit and white shirt, hair styled in that way he prided himself on so it looked like he’d done nothing at all when in fact the process took half an hour and no less than four different types of hair product and styling tools. Brendan was handsome, there was no denying that. But he was also vain as hell.
“What? Working my butt off to take care of my father? Living my best life.” She said the words sweetly, because she knew they would needle at him.
And yeah, maybe that made her a bitch. In her mind, Brendan deserved that and a whole lot worse.
“You’re purposefully holding things up because I want to marry Amber,” he snapped. “It’s childish and, frankly, petty.”
“Oh, childish like not being honest with your wife, and petty like purposefully choosing a lawyer from Boston to get back at me for not wanting to move there? That kind of childish and petty?”
The silence on the other end of the line was charged. Her ex could have quite the temper when he was backed into a corner. And right now, he was most definitely backed into a corner.
“You need to get over it,” he said.
Get over it? Get over it? Did he really think that she could walk away from betrayal so easily?
“You ruined my family. My dad and his sister haven’t spoken since you and Amber left town. I can’t look my cousins in the eye in the grocery store. My Christmases are half of what they used to be.”
“You can’t always expect someone to take your side, Monroe,” he said in that patronizing way of his that he knew got under her skin.
“I damn well can, especially when I’d done nothing but uphold the vows of our marriage.”
“Ah yes, always the victim.”
Oooh, now that made her blood boil! “I guess it’s your turn to be the victim now, Brendan. I’m sure you can get the divorce corrected on your own, but I imagine that would be a much more complicated, lengthy process than if I cooperated.”
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