by Cat Johnson
She sighed. “I’d be happier if you just had plans with your friends. Don’t you go to strip clubs or something together?”
“You want to tell your sister your new boyfriend bailed on dinner to go to a strip club?”
“No. I guess not. But don’t you have any plans for tonight?”
“Yeah. I do. I was going to go to bed early because I have to be on base for a meeting at zero-seven-thirty.”
“That’s not very exciting.”
“I had enough excitement on my last deployment, thank you. My real deployment. Not the fake one you’re sending me on.”
“Fine. We’ll go. But I’m telling her we have to leave early.”
“Sounds good to me. What time should I pick you up?”
“Dinner’s at six.”
“I’ll get you at five-thirty then. And I’ll bring a bottle of red wine.”
Crap. He really was a good fake boyfriend. But that didn’t mean he’d be a good real boyfriend, she reminded herself. “Okay. See you then.”
“Looking forward to it,” he said.
At least one of them was.
She disconnected and in an act of rebellion texted her sister rather than calling her back.
A small thing, yes, but it made her feel better.
She needed something to cheer her up. Even the aroma of the fresh ground coffee and the prospect of a color coordinated closet wasn’t doing it for her anymore.
TWELVE
Alicia answered the door breathless with her boots in her hand rather than on her feet. “I’m so sorry. I’m almost ready.”
Enjoying seeing this side of her, he shook his head. “No rush. Take your time.”
“Come in. I’ll be ready to go in a minute.”
“All right.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, as she trotted to what he assumed was her bedroom.
He’d picked her up on Valentine’s Day for the party but he hadn’t come in past the foyer. This was his first time seeing deep inside the sanctuary of her home.
A person could tell a lot about someone by looking at where they lived.
Turning to take in the immediate area, he saw she was a coffee drinker. And not so good of a housekeeper. There were no less than three mugs with various levels of coffee still inside scattered around the living room.
He resisted the urge to gather them up and carry them to the kitchen, sure that act wouldn’t earn him any good will or gratitude. More likely, he’d get a lecture. Probably about the unfair expectations regarding the role of women as housekeepers in society.
Although, he did enjoy when she slipped into professor mode and lectured him.
If she would put her hair in a bun, dress in a tight little skirt, a low-cut shirt, and glasses and crawl on top of a desk while delivering some psycho-babble, even better.
That wasn’t going to happen but a guy could dream.
Further inspection confirmed she was as brainy as he’d first assumed. There wasn’t just the typical bookcase that most homes had, filled with dust-covered books indicating that if anyone had ever read them, it hadn’t been in decades.
In Alicia’s house, there were also stacks of books on every flat surface. Some open, as if she’d been interrupted in the middle of reading. Others with papers sticking out of them, to mark important pages, he assumed.
He moved closer to the bookcase and perused the titles. He spotted that series she’d recommended to him and his eyes widened at the size of those suckers. Yeah. No chance he was getting through even one of those.
But as expected as the books were, he found something completely unexpected as well. Half of one shelf was lined with vinyl records.
Old school. He liked it.
Yes, pretty much every song in the world could be gotten digitally, but there was something about listening to an album in vinyl that made it different. Special.
He pulled out one to see how her taste in music ran, and was further surprised at what he saw. He pulled out two more and again, found more of the unexpected.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
Turning, he saw Alicia wearing a long top over leggings and boots. She was indeed ready to go. He had to admit that casual Alicia was just as attractive as the sexy psychologist version had been in his fantasies.
She cocked up one brow at the albums in his hand. “I see you made yourself right at home.”
He ignored the sarcasm. “You own not one, but at least three albums of sea shanties. I need an explanation.”
“I inherited them. They were my father’s. He used to sing them around the house.” She spoke softly, as if lost in her memories as she recalled those times..
He didn’t miss the word she’d chosen. Inherited. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Scowling, she moved forward and took them out of his hands. “It was quite a few years ago.”
“Still a loss.”
Turning back from the bookcase where she’d replaced the albums, she said, “Ready to leave? I don’t want to be late.”
It might have been the most he’d ever gleaned from the other side of the wall she hid behind, but now the moment was gone.
“Sure. We can go.”
They drove to her sister’s house in his Jeep, without the argument about who would drive this time. And unlike last time, she didn’t try to give him directions at every turn either.
What was also different was the big hug he got from Jen and the warm handshake he got from Jason, and the slobbering welcome from what was apparently the family dog, all before he’d even made it through the door.
Brian squatted down and ran a hand through the long golden hair of the retriever. “And who are you?”
“That’s Chester,” Alicia supplied. “He was locked up for the party so he didn’t bite our mutual friend Andrew.”
“For some reason he really dislikes Andrew,” Jason said.
Brian snorted, not at all surprised by that information.
“Chester. Very nice to meet you.” He leaned closer and whispered near the dog’s ear. “And you have very good taste.”
The dog treated him to a wet tongue kiss that had him laughing.
He stood before he ended up on his ass with a hundred pounds of dog on top of him and wiped the slobber from his face.
“Sorry about him,” Jen apologized.
“No problem. I love dogs.” He noticed Alicia watching the interaction with interest.
“And they obviously love you,” she commented.
“Yeah. Usually.” Now that he’d disengaged from the show of familial affection from all members, including the canine, he handed the bottle of red wine he’d brought to Jen. “My contribution to dinner. I hope it’s okay. I didn’t know if there was vegan wine or not.”
She waved away his concern. “No worries. We’re not true vegans. Yet. It’s just so much healthier, I decided to try out a few recipes.”
“And lucky you. You get to try it with us.” Jason had leaned in close to deliver that, proving he wasn’t as excited about the menu as Jen was.
He smiled. So this was what having siblings was like. Not much different from having teammates from what he could see, so maybe he wasn’t missing all that much by being an only-child.
“Get you a beer?” Jason asked, hooking a thumb in the direction of the kitchen.
“Sure. I’d love one.” He noticed Jen had already whisked Alicia off in that direction and added, “I’ll come with you.”
Alicia would probably need his help by now. She wasn’t the smoothest when it came to deception.
When he entered the kitchen right behind Jason, it was to see a wide-eyed expression of panic on Alicia’s face.
Shit. That hadn’t taken long.
All eyes on him, he moved next to her and wrapped one arm around her shoulders.
“What’s going on in here?” he asked with an air of casual interest.
“I was just asking Alicia what your last name is since Jason and I were talking before and he was
wondering if you have any Navy friends in common,” Jen said.
“And I told her that I couldn’t give her your last name because you’re a SEAL and those sort of things are classified,” Alicia added.
His lips twitched with a smile at her bullshit attempt to cover the fact she didn’t know his name.
Of all the things they’d covered, all the rules they’d made for this fake relationship, he realized now they’d never exchanged last names.
“It’s okay, baby. I don’t think your family is a security risk. It’s Anderson.”
Jason nodded and handed him the beer. He took it and said thanks before Jason went back around the counter to help Jen open the bottle of wine.
He took that time to lean down and kiss Alicia’s cheek, mainly so he could whisper, “Good try.”
He decided it might be fun to remind her of something else.
“And I don’t know your last name either.”
Her eyes had already been wide with terror at nearly getting caught in a lie over something as simple as not knowing his last name. But when she realized he didn’t know hers either, they got comically larger.
Finally, she got herself together and after a glance at her sister and brother-in-law, who were now in the midst of arguing over if the lasagna should remain covered with foil or uncovered in the oven, she mouthed, “Lopez.”
Enjoying this second fake date even more than he had the first, he smiled. “Good to know.”
That could be ticked off the long list of all the other things he’d like to get to know about Alicia. And hopefully would be able to in the course of their fake relationship, which was proving more fun than he’d ever imagined.
He should have started fake dating years ago.
Although there was one problem with this fake dating stuff. The lack of sex was definitely not ideal.
He was entering blue ball territory between his celibate deployment and now his sex-less fake relationship.
That was something he thought a lot about as he drove her home after dinner, dropped her off without so much as a good night kiss and as he drove back to his own lonely apartment.
Unfortunately, all that thinking didn’t yield an acceptable solution.
The idea of a fling with a stranger while fake dating felt like cheating.
He didn’t want to end the good thing that he had with Alicia, even if it was sexless. But as long as he stayed with her he didn’t feel right being with anyone else. Even for one night.
By the time he crawled into bed, alone and needy, he’d changed his mind. Fake dating sucked.
THIRTEEN
“Are you ever going to have time to hang out with me again?” Shelly asked.
“Me?” Alicia’s eyes flew wide. “You’re the one who canceled on me twice in a row. And who worked late tonight.” Which was why they were catching up about their respective weeks on the phone instead of drinking at McP’s.
“And you’re the one who just told me you had couples’ night at your sister’s Sunday with your new man.”
So many things were wrong with that statement she didn’t know where to start. “He’s not my man. And it wasn’t couples’ night. I just couldn’t figure out how to say no to dinner without Jen getting suspicious. But that’s it now. I’m telling her Brian’s going on deployment. That way I won’t have to have any more fake dates.”
“You’re a lunatic. You know that?”
“Why?”
“Why don’t you want to see this guy anymore?” Shelly asked.
“Have you not been listening to me? It’s all fake.” She stressed the last word to make sure Shelly understood.
“Is it really though? You’re actually spending time with him. Sharing meals. And having drinks. And meeting family. And having a good time, from what you’ve said. That sounds real enough to me.”
She sighed. “No. It’s more like a business transaction. I could have just as easily hired an actor to play my boyfriend. But instead, we decided to barter services. I pretend for his teammates. He pretends for my sister.”
“A man hiring a prostitute for sex is a business transaction too, but that doesn’t mean the sex isn’t real.”
She cringed at hearing Shelly put her fake relationship with Brian in those terms. “This isn’t like that. And we’re not having sex,” she added, just in case there was any question.
“But I bet you could be. You can’t tell me he’s not interested.”
“He’s not interested. We both agreed to no sex as one of the rules.”
Shelly let out a humph. “We’ll see.”
She hated the smug tone in her friend’s voice. “No we won’t because we have no more fake dates planned.”
“Okay. If you say so.”
Before she could lob yet another defense at her friend, her cell vibrated with a text.
It was probably Jen. Who else could it be? She was already talking to her best, and pretty much only, friend.
Of course, it could also be Brian. Maybe he needed her to show up at McP’s or something.
As her heart picked up speed at that thought, she glanced at the display—and got a punch to the gut.
She stared at the contact name she hadn’t realized was still in her phone.
It must have transferred over automatically with all her other information when she’d gotten her new cell. But there it was, and it still had the power to have her shaking.
She’d momentarily forgotten she was still talking to Shelly.
Feeling weak, she raised the cell to her ear and tried not to vomit. “Shell.”
“Yeah.”
“Greg just texted me.”
“As in Greg, Greg? Your Greg?”
“Yeah.” Even though he was most definitely not her Greg. Not anymore. He hadn’t been for a long while.
“What does he want? Not to get back together. You’re not going to, are you? Would you take him back?” Shelly asked in rapid fire succession.
These were all good questions. One’s she didn’t have answers to.
“I don’t know.” She swallowed and clarified which question she’d been answering with, “I don’t know what he wants. He just said he needs to talk.”
“Oh my God. What are you going to do?”
Again, she said, “I don’t know.”
“Are you okay?” Shelly asked.
“Yeah,” she lied.
“You’re not. I can hear it your voice.”
“You’re right. I’m not.”
“I’m coming over.”
“Don’t. I’m fine. And you said you have an early conference call in the morning.”
“That’s all right. I’ll just be tired. Nothing a little cover-up and coffee won’t solve.”
“No. Really. I’m going to ignore this text—pretend I didn’t see it—and go to bed. Possibly after a pint of ice cream. Or a bottle of wine. Or both.”
“You sure?” Shelly asked.
“Yes. Definitely. I’m just going to avoid that text and him. No worries.”
“All right. But please. If he texts again or calls, call me. Any time. I don’t care.”
“Okay. I will.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too. Good night.” She disconnected the call and stared at the cell in her hand.
Greg’s text lay dormant there, like a sleeping snake she was afraid to awaken.
She was still staring at the instrument of her torture when it vibrated in her hand. She jumped, her heart lurching until she saw Brian’s name appear on the text alert.
BRIAN: Hey. Sorry it’s last minute. But are you available to be my fake dinner date tomorrow night?
Able to breathe again even as her heart pounded, she was so relieved to be back in her nice safe fake dating comfort zone, she happily replied.
ALICIA: Yes!
The exclamation point was probably over the top but she’d already hit send before she could delete it.
BRIAN: LOL Glad you are excited about it.
&
nbsp; She read the words and could easily picture the man who’d typed them.
So easy going. Always smiling. Eager to help. To solve any problem she might have. And they weren’t even dating.
She stared at the two most recent texts in her inbox.
One was from the man she’d dated for what seemed like forever before he’d taken her happiness and her heart with him when he’d left. And for some reason he was back in her life. The other was from the man she’d known for what? Less than two weeks?
Suddenly she didn’t want to be alone tonight.
She tapped in a text.
ALICIA: Want to come over?
She hit send and waited for the reply. When his yes came, her heart began to pound.
What had she done?
And was she going to regret it?
FOURTEEN
The door swung open and Alicia stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light from inside.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he said.
“Want to come in?”
“Yes.” More than anything.
She stepped back and let him inside, then closed and locked the door as he watched.
Finally she turned and met his gaze. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
When her text had come through he’d wondered that himself.
That hadn’t stopped Brian from throwing himself into the Jeep and breaking a few speeding laws to get there.
Rising to the challenge, he was willing to help her make up her mind. “Well, what can I do to help?”
“I don’t know.” Her brows were drawn low.
She wasn’t coy. She wasn’t being a smart ass. It seemed to be a completely honest answer.
He could see she was back to over-thinking again. And that there was something up with her.
She didn’t seem to be herself and he didn’t know why.
“That text tonight. Was that an I need a friend text? Or, the other kind?” he asked.
“Other kind?” She frowned deeper.
Brian had forgotten she wasn’t always the quickest to pick up on verbal cues.
“A booty text,” he clarified.
“You mean like sex?” she hissed the last word low. Like it was a dirty word and she didn’t want her mommy to hear her.