“She’s quite a feminist in her writing, don’t you think?”
Deanna set the flowers on the coffee table and sat next to Merrick on the sofa. “She’s a strong woman who’s experienced pain and joy and sorrow. I don’t believe you can be creative without getting in touch with yourself. What draws me to her is the fact that she’s a woman, and her words speak to the plight of all women.”
Elsa returned to her chair. “I’m a huge fan as well. As women, we are more than a pretty face. Motherhood is a superpower, but not our only one. Tell me about your mother.”
“My mother’s name is Gretta, and she’s my hero.” She looked at Merrick before continuing. “Like you, my mom raised her children on her own.”
“And your father?”
“He was in the military and did a tour of duty in Germany and never came back.”
Elsa sipped her wine. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Deanna sat up. “Oh no, he’s not dead. He just found someone else he liked better and stayed in Germany. He filed for divorce and never returned.”
“Oh, well, then, I’m sorry for his loss.”
“How was the drive, Mom?” Merrick wrapped his arm around Deanna and pulled her closer.
“It was lovely. The aspens are turning, so the fall colors lit up the forest.” She breathed deeply as if she could smell the leaves. “What’s cooking that smells so wonderful?”
“Garlic lime chicken over quinoa. It will be ready in about ten minutes.”
“Perfect. That gives me time to find out more about how you met.”
That was another thing they hadn’t rehearsed.
“How we met?” She turned to Merrick. “Why don’t you tell her our story, love.” She saw him get a “deer in the headlight’s” expression.
“How we met?” he repeated.
“Yes,” Elsa said. “How did you meet? Was it love at first sight?” She stared at the two of them sitting next to each other on the couch. “It’s obvious you have a true love connection. I can’t wait to hear your story.”
“You read too many romance novels, Mom. Not everything is book-worthy.”
Deanna saw a hint of disappointment flicker in Elsa’s eyes. If the woman loved Nicholas Sparks, she was a romantic and had a soft spot for love stories. As Merrick’s fake girlfriend, didn’t she have a responsibility to provide her with a story to remember?
“Ours is book-worthy.” She snuggled into his side for effect. “We met at the Corner Store. I work with difficult men.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t know if Merrick told you or not, but I’m the assistant to Samantha Black, who is the lead singer for Indigo.”
“He did mention that you were in the entertainment field.”
“Anyway, there’s a lot of ego with musicians, and I was arguing with one of them. Merrick stepped in and became my hero, and he’s been one ever since. You’ve raised a fine man, Mrs. Buchanan. You should be proud.”
“He was an easy kid to raise. It doesn’t surprise me he stepped in. He’s always felt responsible for the people around him whether he knew them or not.” She sipped her wine. “I’m sure that’s why he went into law enforcement. Somehow, protect and serve runs through his veins.”
The timer for the chicken dinged, and Deanna rose from the sofa. “Dinner is ready. Should we move to the table?”
Merrick stood and offered his hand to his mother. “Deanna is an excellent cook.”
She wanted to bubble with laughter. All she’d ever fed him was a take-and-bake pizza.
“You’re far too flattering for my good,” she teased. “Don’t get your mother’s hopes up. We could be rushing her to Doc’s for a stomach pumping in a few minutes.”
They made their way to the table and took seats.
Deanna plated up her chicken and accessorized the meal with a parsley sprig while Merrick poured more wine.
“You’re not drinking?” Elsa asked when Deanna’s glass remained empty.
“I’m not much of a drinker.” She reached for the bottle of sparkling water and filled her glass. “Wine goes straight to my head.”
Elsa picked up her wineglass and held it out in front of her. “I’d like to propose a toast.”
Deanna and Merrick picked up their glasses and waited.
“To moderation in all things, except in love. May you find your hearts entwined forever and your bodies long enough to give me a grandchild.”
“Mom,” Merrick said with a hint of warning.
“What? There’s nothing wrong with planting a seed.”
He shook his head. “Are we talking about you or me?”
His mother smiled. “I’d prefer you to plant the seed, and I’ll watch it grow.”
A warm feeling fluttered in Deanna’s belly. It was that same feeling she got when she drank wine—a drunk feeling, but this time caused by words and not alcohol.
Chapter Nine
“I don’t know, Mom, Deanna has a busy schedule.” Merrick poured a cup of coffee and inhaled the rich scent of freshly ground beans. “She’s got a lot of people to manage.” Was her schedule busy? He couldn’t say. They never discussed her job or the kind of pressure it put her under.
“I like her, Merrick. She’s the perfect mix of sweet and sassy, and she doesn’t seem to put up with your shit.”
Mom certainly homed in on the “I cooked so you clean” statement after Saturday’s meal.
“I like her too. It’s why I chose her … or she chose me.” That part was getting muddy. She made the first move, but he persuaded her to help him fool his mom. They were complicit in the plan that unfolded so beautifully. This was a problem because he didn’t count on his mother wanting to see them again so soon. After last night’s success, it would be hard to fake a quick breakup. They pulled the dinner date off so well, even he believed it was real.
That kiss good night was real, even if it wasn’t. Red was an effing idiot for letting a woman who could kiss like Deanna get away.
“I’m not taking no for an answer. If you don’t say yes, I’ll call her myself.”
Mom was not a pushover, and she’d press until he caved.
“I’ll ask her.” He couldn’t let his mom get in the middle of the situation, or she’d have Deanna in Denver picking out wedding dresses and a cake.
“Perfect, call me tonight. I’ll make your favorite meal.”
“Burger King Whoppers?” he teased.
“If my arms were long enough, I’d reach all the way to Aspen Cove and slap you upside the head.”
“I’ll ask her. Now let me get to work and stop bugging me.”
“I only pester because I care.”
“Bye, Mom.” He made a kissing sound into the phone and hung up.
Now what was he supposed to do? There was no plan to continue the ruse beyond Saturday. He poured his cup of coffee into an insulated mug and walked out the door. Women were trouble. It started with mothers and bled all the way down to sweet, pretty pop star assistants whose kisses were addictive.
He hopped inside his truck and drove to Main Street, parking behind the sheriff’s station. In the alleyway was Cannon and Bowie accepting delivery for the bait and tackle store.
“You need some help?”
Cannon nodded toward the stack of boxes, piled four high at the back door. “We never turn down free labor.”
Merrick hurried to assist. “What’s the big delivery? I thought the season was almost over.”
Bowie nodded. “It is, but this angler’s club decided to do a fishing tournament on the lake. The one thing I know about anglers is they’ll want the latest and greatest. They are a competitive bunch and will spend whatever it takes to catch the biggest fish and win the prize.” He hefted a box and led them inside the shop.
At the counter, Bowie tore into the box and pulled out several reels and poles.
“Those look mighty fancy for trout,” Merrick said.
“Personally, I’d take the thirty-dollar Kastking Centron over this Penn, but
that’s because I’m frugal. You know how people can be; they aren’t happy with what they have and need to have the next best thing,” Bowie said.
“I know all too well how people dump perfectly good equipment for something shinier and prettier.” That attitude wasn’t exclusive to fishing equipment. It happened with people too.
“It’s a shame,” Bowie added. “Shiny and pretty isn’t always the best bet.”
“All a matter of taste, I suppose.”
Cannon came inside carrying another box. “What are you two going on about?”
Merrick shrugged. “Just how shallow people can be.” He picked up an old rod sitting on the counter. “Why would anyone discard this when it’s perfectly good?” He pressed the spool release, and the weight hit the ground.
“Hey.” Bowie took it from his hand. “That’s my reel, and no one is getting rid of her.”
“Her?” Merrick asked.
“A good reel is like a good woman. When you find the perfect one, you treat her right. You baby her and make sure she’s got what she needs.” He held up the reel. “This needed a tune-up. I cleaned her and replaced her line. If you don’t take care of the things important to you, they break down.”
“Are we talking about reels or women?” Cannon tore open another box and pulled out bait and flies.
“I’d say we’re talking about both. If you don’t treat your woman right, she’ll go looking for another man. If you don’t take care of your fishing pole, she won’t be of any use to you either.”
“Speaking of other men … how did the ‘date’ with Deanna go?” Cannon asked.
Merrick rubbed his chin. “We accomplished what we set out to do.”
Bowie shook his head. “That’s a woman who’s using the wrong kind of bait to catch what she’s after.” Bowie moved to the lures that Cannon stacked on the counter. “Take this shit.” He held up the PowerBait. The neon yellow jar sparkled in his hand. “You’ll catch the fish, but what’s the fun in getting something so easy? In my experience, easy has never been satisfying.”
“She wants what she wants.”
Cannon grunted. “She only wants what she thought she had. I mean, carp looks pretty, but once you’ve had a taste, you know to throw it back. Maybe what Deanna needs is to taste a bass. Now those are worth keeping. Maybe you’re her bass.”
“Are we seriously having a conversation about fish and women?”
Bowie laughed. “As silly as it sounds, it makes sense. My Katie is a bass, and she’s a keeper.”
Cannon snorted. “I’d say Sage is more of a catfish these days. She’s prickly, and it hurts when you’re her intended victim. Then again, she’s pregnant, and carrying my kid can’t be easy.”
“Lucky bastards,” Merrick said.
“You can be lucky too.” Bowie tossed Merrick a container of worms. “Use the right bait, and you’ll get the perfect fish.”
He chuckled. “I’m not looking to reel anything in at this time. In my experience, law enforcement and women are a bad mix.”
“Only if she’s got a bench warrant out on her.” Cannon turned and walked toward the door. “Got to go. I’ve got my delivery coming in about twenty minutes.” He put his finger to his lips. “I ordered this fancy thing called a Snoo Smart Sleeper. It’s supposed to help the baby sleep longer. I figured if it doesn’t work for the baby, I’ll stick Sage in it. My woman needs her rest.”
“You’re an idiot,” Bowie said. “Those things cost too much.”
Cannon raised his hands. “Happy wife—happy life.”
“I should go too. I’m sure there’s paperwork to fill out. No doubt, Mrs. Brown’s cat caused some havoc over the weekend.”
Bowie followed him out the back door. “What’s it like turning in car chases for cats in costume?”
“It’s heaven.”
“You know what heaven is?” He pointed down the alley to the bakery. “It’s waking up to your best friend and looking in her eyes and knowing that your life would never be the same without her.”
“I’ll let you know if I find her.”
“Maybe you already have, but you’re too worried some other angler has a better chance at reeling her in. All you can do is toss out your line and give it a shot. Either she bites, or she doesn’t. If she doesn’t, she wasn’t the fish for you.”
Did they just compare women to fish again and the chase to bait and a fishing line? If his mother were there, she would have cuffed them all upside the head.
He walked inside the station and found Poppy filing paperwork. He picked up the keys for the cruiser. “I’m making the rounds. Is there anything I need to be aware of?”
She shook her head. “Tom is missing. There’s a BOLO for a cat in a Superman costume. He shouldn’t be hard to find. I’d keep my eyes to the sky. If I were Tom, I’d hide in the highest tree.”
He shook his head. “If I were him I’d jump to my death and hope the cape didn’t work. Poor cat.”
Outside, he was about to hop in the cruiser and take off when he saw Deanna enter the diner. Thoughts of Mom ran through his head, followed by Bowie and Cannon’s fishing analogies. Maybe it was time to toss his line into the water—at least long enough to snag another fake date. Was that what he wanted? How long could he keep up the game they were playing?
Red showed his jealousy on Wednesday night, but Deanna said nothing of where that went. Were they already back together?
A slow burn fired in his belly. She deserved better than an egotistical musician with a line of groupies waiting to take their turn. A man like Red could never appreciate a single daisy in a bouquet of roses—never see the beauty in the simple flower. Deanna was a daisy who happened to live on a street by the same name. Was that an accident or the universe recognizing the truth?
She was beautiful and resilient, pretty, and strong. She seemed to grow wherever she was planted and thrived in whatever conditions the world threw at her. Deanna was different from most women. She was undoubtedly different from Cassie, and she understood life and its risks. Everyone leaves their house for what could be the last time each morning, she’d said, and she was right. With that in the forefront of his mind, he walked into the diner, ready to seize the day because life was uncertain.
He glanced around looking for her and found her tucked into the front corner booth by the window. Before her was a stack of papers an inch thick.
“Hey, beautiful.” He slid into the booth seat across from her. “Did you miss me?” If she said yes, what would he do? Kiss her again? A tingle raced up his body to his lips. He’d like that.
“Hey, you?” She straightened the pile and shoved it aside. “You want coffee?”
It wasn’t the confirmation he was hoping for, but she pushed aside her work to focus on him, and that felt good. How many people only gave a fraction of their attention to the ones they loved? This woman gave him her undivided attention, and she had no interest in loving him. That said something about her character.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
A blush rose from her neckline to her cheeks. “No, I’m buying you coffee.”
It was only an inch or two, but his heart sank. “That’s a start.”
Maisey walked over with her loafers squeaking and the pot of coffee swinging in her hand. “You two want a cup of coffee?”
Merrick turned over the two mugs on the table. “Fill ‘er up.” He grabbed the sugar and measured two teaspoonfuls into Deanna’s cup. It’s what she added to her coffee Saturday night when they ate cake and enjoyed a cup just before Mom left. “She’ll need cream.”
Deanna stared at him but said nothing.
“Are you hungry, Sweetheart?” His eyes left her and turned to Maisey. “I’d love a plate of cakes and a side of bacon, and I’ll take the check today.”
“Wait … what?” Deanna shook her head hard enough to send her ponytail wagging. “This date is my treat.”
His lips twitched before lifting into a grin. “So, it is a date?”<
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She opened and closed her mouth several times, and when nothing came out, he held up two fingers. “Bring Deanna the same. She’s so hungry she’s left speechless.”
“Oh, honey, she’s hungry all right, but looking at you two, I’d say her lack of words has nothing to do with her desire for food.” Maisey pivoted and walked away.
“Oh my God, did she just accuse me of being hungry for you?”
He chuckled. “Maybe. Are you?”
Her hand came out and clipped his shoulder. How she got it across the table so fast he couldn’t fathom. “What’s wrong with you?” She looked around and leaned into the center of the table. “Our deal is done, and there’s no reason for you to pretend to be my boyfriend anymore,” she whispered.
“Did it work? Do you have Red back?” He leaned against the booth back and watched her with his interrogator’s eye.
“It’s too soon to tell. We haven’t seen each other since Wednesday night.” The light in her eyes died at the mention of nearly five days ago. “I’ll see him at work today. We have to go over album cover designs and the playlist order.”
Men were simple creatures. Deep down, they were knuckle draggers, and when it came to women, their base instincts took over. If Red wanted Deanna, he would be a chest-pounding, club-bearing asshole until he got what he wanted.
“You’ll have to let me know how that goes.”
He already knew how it would go. Deanna would arrive at work hopeful and leave feeling dejected. The only reason Red acted as if he cared on Wednesday was that he didn’t want to be ignored.
“How’s your mom?”
“She’s good.” He sipped his coffee. “Speaking of my mom. I have a proposition for you.”
Chapter Ten
Did he say proposition? She cocked her head and smiled. “Do I have to cook again?”
“You didn’t have to the last time.” He looked down at his coffee before raising his eyes to meet hers. “I offered to bring you both here.”
What was that she saw in his face? Regret? Remorse? Hope? “I know. I didn’t mind cooking for your mother. She was remarkably easy to please.”
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