I whooped at that, and ate another slice of pizza. We had another round of drinks and then played some darts. Nicole kicked everyone’s ass at darts like it was nothing, and we all groaned and gave her hell about it. I realized about halfway through the evening what a good time I was having, how sitting with the girls had made unwinding with a beer a lot better than if I’d just stayed with those two knuckleheads from work. If it was painful to be this close to Trixie, to want her so much, to feel the simmering, low-level attraction I’d felt for years turn into a supernova in one night, it was worth it to make her smile and laugh when she had been so down.
5
Trixie
I probably ate half a pizza, and I didn’t even care. A screwdriver and then some lemonade later, I felt better. Not that I had any new options, but I no longer felt like everything was horrible. After the fun of seeing Nicole beat all the guys at darts because they had no idea she was a badass, I sat down and picked the cheese off another piece of pizza. Zack and Cody or Drake and Josh or whatever the hell the firemen’s names were—something that sounded like it came off an old Disney channel show—left. When I got back from the bathroom, Nicole and Michelle had offered to wait for me, but I’d waved them off so they took off as well. I surveyed the damage and sat back down to finish my lemonade. I’d had one drink about three hours and half a pizza ago, so I was sober. I didn’t need a ride and didn’t need to hurry. It wasn’t like I had a shop to open in the morning. If I felt a little glum about being deserted at the bar, it only fit in with everything else going on.
Then Damon came and sat next to me again. “Where’d they all go? Have we been ditched?”
“Looks like it,” I said, sipping my lemonade.
“You want a drink?”
“I’ve got one.”
“A real one?”
I shook my head.
I was losing the power of speech because he was too close to me. Take me home. Put your mouth on mine, take my clothes off, make me forget everything that’s making me miserable right now. Give me one night. I won’t tell anyone. I don’t care if that makes me just another girl who threw herself at you. You’ll forget, but I won’t. I felt craven, hungry for him.
“Hey, you look like you’re feeling down again,” he said.
He touched my chin with one finger, tipped my head up so I met his eyes. Those wild, aquamarine eyes that seemed like something a gorgeous vampire in a movie would have, a hypnotic, beautiful blue-green gaze.
“Your eyes are insane,” I said. “I’m not even drunk, I just always thought so.”
“Is that a compliment? Is insane a good thing?”
“Definitely,” I confirmed, nodding emphatically, “your eyes are definitely insane in the good way.”
“Thank you. Since we’re saying what we’ve always thought, I love your hair.”
“What?”
“It’s glossy and dark. I like when it’s down over your shoulders,” he said. Then he reached out and lifted my hair, pushed it behind my shoulder and ran his hand down it. What were we doing? Was this the next stage of flirting? The part where it felt like I was going to hyperventilate because he gave me a compliment and touched my hair?
I felt the weight of his gaze, the yearning for more of his touch as he gently ran the tip of his finger down the side of my neck. I could feel the ghost of his touch like it had left a path on my skin, blazed a trail that would show in the mirror if I looked. I knew my cheeks would be stained red from it anyhow. My whole body felt alight and consumed by heat from the way he looked at me. Being the focus of his attention was dizzying, and I wasn’t sure I didn’t want to hide after all. Maybe it was easier not to be noticed, to be the awkward one he didn’t pay attention to.
This was nothing. He touched my neck. His fingers barely skated along my skin before the whisper of a touch was gone. My face flamed, and I had to look away.
“Thanks for sitting with us tonight. It helped take my mind off things,” I said.
“Still feeling down?” he asked, concern in his voice.
I lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, “I’m okay.”
“Listen, what are your options?”
“Um, let’s see… I can magically motivate my landlord to repair the thousands of dollars of plumbing damage and then have the place professionally cleaned and get my insurance to replace the ruined cooler and take a loss on the flowers I had in stock and on order. Or I can hope to score the jackpot on a scratch-off lotto ticket and buy my building. I mean, that was my goal—buying it, not playing the lottery. I’ve got a little saved, but not much. I can’t get a loan at this point, because I can’t use my house for collateral. I’ve got a mortgage on it.”
I paused, “I don’t have anything of value I can sell. I bought my car used and that was eight years ago. I don’t think it’s legal to sell a kidney,” I gave a bitter laugh.
“So all you need is collateral?”
“Yeah, that’s all,” I said sarcastically. “Which is like saying all I need is a long-lost rich uncle to leave me a fortune or all I need is my rat bastard landlord to feel generous and give me the building for my birthday. Pretty damn impossible.”
“What’s the purchase price? I mean, I could lend you the money myself.”
“No. That’s very sweet of you, but I’m not borrowing money from you. What if something happened and I couldn’t pay you back?”
“You mean what if you suddenly became a very different person and started racking up credit card debt with all your tropical vacations and spray tans and flashy jewelry? You have an eight-year-old used car and a one-bedroom house. You’re at that shop every waking hour and you’re one of the most responsible people I know.”
“Look, it’s a nice thought, but no thank you. I wouldn’t be comfortable doing that. And it’s not your job to solve all my problems. But thank you for offering,” I said, flustered, wanting to run out the door and hide. He offered to loan me the money? Who does that?
“Not all your problems. Just the financial one. What other problems do you have?”
“Um, let’s see. My car has an oil leak. My mom wanted me to get married like two years ago. I can’t find my garage door opener. That’s about it.”
“Trixie,” he said. For one second, I didn’t hate my name like I always had. “For one thing, I can take a look at the oil leak and probably fix it for you. My house is paid off. I inherited it free and clear from my grandpa. I’ve never had a house payment so I have a lot of savings. I can help you out. “
“Really? Then why don’t you just marry me and find my garage door opener while you’re at it?” I joked.
“Okay,” he said without hesitation.
Wait. What the hell just happened?
6
Damon
We stared at each other like we’d just been in an accident and didn’t know quite what had happened.
She’d jokingly proposed, and I’d readily accepted. That was unexpected, to say the least. I knew she was joking. I registered her sarcasm even as she said it. But I still said okay. What did that mean?
Trixie shook her head. “I was just kidding, Damon.”
I glanced down at the table, at her hand, pale and small. I felt a shift, some strange urge to protect her. I covered her hand with mine. As soon as I did, I felt a jolt like electricity, a kick in my blood from the contact. I held her cold hand in mine, warmed it. She was holding my hand back, her fingers laced through mine. I kept looking at them, the way my tanned, work-roughened skin looked against her paler, softer hand. Her eyes met mine, and I could tell she felt the same shock that I had.
I pulled my hand away. “Why not? We’re consenting adults. If we were married, you could use my house as collateral to secure the loan. We could use some of my savings for the down payment.”
“No way. This is crazy,” she said, eyes narrowed. “Why would you do that? Why would anyone do that? Just offer to freaking marry someone so they could get a loan and save their business
?”
“It wouldn’t have to be a real marriage. Just—like a marriage of convenience. People married for property all the time back in the day. It wouldn’t be forever—I don’t expect you to like, bear me five healthy sons or some archaic shit like that. We’d just stay married until you had the loan for the building and the repairs and got back on your feet. It’s not like you wouldn’t make the payments on the loan. I trust you. You’re not going to get my house repossessed or something.”
“Why, Damon?” she asked again, and I heard her voice crack.
“I don’t know. Maybe because I had a house given to me—don’t get me wrong, Laura inherited Grandad’s Caddy and sold it to buy a new car and stuff—but not everybody gets that handed to them. It’s like I had a head start, so I can comfortably help someone else out. You’re in a bind, and it isn’t any trouble to—”
“It isn’t any trouble to marry me?” she asked. “Nope. No way. Giving me a ride home, that’s no trouble, or picking up a gallon of milk for your mom is no trouble. Marriage—as in joined in legal wedlock, plus putting up your house as collateral to save my business—that’s a lot of trouble. No one is that nice, and there’s no way you have, like, middle-class guilt or something.”
I was losing her, and I wanted to keep fighting. “It might be fun; did you think of that? I get to help out a friend, probably get brownie points with my mom…”
“Oh, and I’m sure our moms would totally understand our in-name-only marriage to get me a business loan, Damon. This is insane.”
“A little, but all my best ideas are.”
She just looked at me, her mouth open, her head shaking from side to side.
“Trixie, let me help you.”
She sighed and shook her head again. “I’ll think about it.”
“Really? Or are you just trying to humor me?”
“This is a crazy idea,” she stated.
I nodded my head. “I know.”
“Like completely insane. Like certifiable.”
“Sounds like me,” I teased.
“I don’t know, Damon,” she hesitated.
Just like that I was holding her hand again, “Let me help you, Trix,” I said.
She met my eyes and all the air whooshed out of her lungs like I’d taken her breath away. She gave a rueful smile that made me want to do a victory fist pump.
“Shit.”
“Is that a yes?”
“That’s a maybe. I’ll think about it. Even though it’s a horribly unfair plan that you get nothing out of. I mean, are you a charitable organization suddenly?”
“Always have been. You’ll be the eleventh girl I’ve married to provide collateral for small business loans,” I deadpanned. “One more and I get a statue in the town square.” She rolled her eyes.
“I’ll call you.”
“I don’t have your number. If I’m going to give you my name, I think I should have your number,” I said, flirting a little.
She reached in her purse. I thought she was getting her phone to share the contact info with me, but instead she pulled out a pen and flipped my hand over. She wrote her number on my palm in purple ink.
“That’s my favorite color,” I said.
She just smiled at me and slipped out of her chair, “Good night,” she said. Then she leaned over and kissed my cheek. A quick kiss, a brush of soft, warm lips against my skin. I shut my eyes briefly and swallowed hard. I wasn’t sure why, but her kiss on my cheek moved me somehow. I caught her hand as she stood, and I held it.
“You can count on me,” I said. I needed to say it, even though I wasn’t sure why.
“I know,” she said. “That’s what’s scaring me.”
7
Trixie
I called Kiera early in the morning. This whole situation needed my sister’s perspective, but I hadn’t called her after I left the bar because she had little kids and I didn’t want to wake her or them. If anyone called my sister after nine at night, authorities would never find the body.
“So, you’re saying that Damon Vance, who you’ve had a crush on since like the seventh grade, wants to marry you and you have to THINK ABOUT IT? What the hell, Tig?”
“It’s not a real marriage. Just a fake marriage for loan collateral.”
“Even in a fake marriage, you can see him naked if you ask nicely, I’m pretty sure,” she teased.
“Well, I’m not clear on the etiquette in a fake marriage with a guy who takes pity on me because I’m a poor, fatherless waif or whatever who can’t afford to buy a building in downtown Rockford Falls.”
“I don’t think that’s a pity proposal. People don’t really do that. Maybe a pity dance if you were at prom and your date ditched you to make out with somebody else, but not an actual offer of marriage. That’s way overboard.”
“It’s stupid. I mean, what’s in it for him?”
“Maybe he likes you and wants to help because he can. He’s a nice guy, sis. Don’t overthink it. It’s not the worst idea.”
“You’re crazy,” I said.
Kiera laughed. “You know Damon. He’s a great guy. He can help you. Not to mention I know you used to doodle Mrs. Trixie Vance in your diary in high school.”
“You read my diary? Of course you did. You always were a sneaky little shit,” I shook my head.
“Do you have a better idea on how to solve your problem? Your shop is shut down, possibly forever if you don’t find a way to get the plumbing fixed and all your equipment replaced. Are you gonna go work at the gas station selling vapes and chili dogs?”
“No. I could go work for one of the Overton florists.”
“Yeah, working the cash register and doing deliveries. Because that uses your talent,” she said sarcastically.
“That’s harsh,” I said grimly.
“It’s true,” she shot back. “You have a way out of this problem. And the answer happens to be the hottest fireman Rockford Falls has ever seen. What is the downside here? I realize I’m sleep-deprived but I must be missing something. Is there a downside to this?”
“No. I was up all night thinking about it, and the only problem is feeling like I’m taking advantage of Damon.”
“He offered.”
“Technically I proposed and he accepted.”
“Same difference. He was sober and understood the implications of saying yes.”
“He said okay.”
“What are you, the detail police today?” she grumbled.
“Somebody had to make waffles at four, I’m guessing by your mood,” I said.
“Shut. Up.”
“Have you tried not giving him waffles?” I asked. “I mean, I know he’s the cutest kid ever and all but…”
“Oh, hey if only I’d thought of that,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Of course I’ve tried not giving him waffles. Why would I voluntarily give him breakfast when it’s still goddamn dark outside? He cries like his heart is broken. He won’t go back to sleep. It’s wake up, make him waffles and watch him play happily or wake up, refuse him waffles and fight the endless tantrum. And by endless I mean he kept going till after nine in the morning. I thought I’d died and gone to hell and it was loud there.”
“Okay, okay. Waffles for everyone, okay?” I said.
“I’m so tired. I wish that my big struggle was deciding whether to marry the hot guy who wants to solve all my problems. Don’t make this hard when there’s an easy solution,” she said wearily.
“I love you. Go take a nap, okay?” I said.
She yawned goodbye and hung up. She might be sleep-deprived, but she was right. There was no downside. I texted her, I’m doing it. You were right. Never tell anyone I said I was wrong though.
I knew that message would make her laugh. I also knew it was the truth. If I agreed to marry Damon, I could use his house as collateral to fix my shop and buy the building. I would pay him back, with interest, beginning the first month I had my shop open again. I didn’t care if I had to live on ra
men noodles and wear worn-out shoes and cut my own hair. I’d repay him. That would be priority number one. Because I could never really thank him adequately, I could at least honor the agreement scrupulously and provide him free flowers for life.
Good decision. Now just try not to fall in love for real, my sister texted back. I chewed on my bottom lip.
Love is the last thing on my mind, I replied, not sure if it was the truth.
I felt awkward about how to approach Damon. How did you contact a guy you proposed to and then freaked out and wanted time to think? Phone call? In person? Hire a skywriter to write, “I accept my own proposal, meet me at the courthouse” above the fire station? It was a business arrangement, pure and simple. So, I just texted him.
If the offer still stands, I agree that marriage is the most practical solution for me. Thank you, I texted him, then waited.
I saw the three dots appear onscreen to show he was typing, and then his message popped up.
That’s the most romantic message ever. Yes! It’s all so sudden, but YES I WILL MARRY YOU! 1000X YES!
I snorted with laughter, Lmk what day works for you, goofball.
I looked up the estimates from plumbers to figure out what I’d need to repair the pipes and electrical damage. I’d already filed for replacement on the cooler and my insurance adjuster was scheduled to come on Tuesday sometime and survey the wreckage. So anytime but Tuesday, I was free to get married. That sounded weird, like being available to meet for lunch or something. Any day but Tuesday I’m free for a lifetime commitment and a legally binding contract, I thought ruefully. My only way out of this mess was to marry a man who didn’t love me. I mean, a man I didn’t love. At least there was a way out, even if it went through the garden of questionable decisions.
My Fake Husband Page 3