by Holly Rayner
He shifted back, but his eyes lingered, and she couldn’t look away from his gaze. In a flash, she felt the heat of attraction that she’d first felt for him welling up inside of her.
Just like that, all of the legal jargon she’d consumed in his office faded from her mind. All she could think about was how gorgeous the man before her was.
And I’m here, sitting across from him, she thought, her heart swelling with gratitude. I’m the luckiest woman in this bar. Heck, I’m the luckiest woman in Memphis—or maybe even in the country!
Her cheeks burned and she looked down to the table. The edge of the laminated menu slid into her line of sight, followed by Jackson’s tanned, large hand.
“Take a peek,” he said. “I’m sure you know the beers they have on tap, but it looks like they have a Holiday special.”
Bianca scanned the page and saw that Jackson was right. The “Ho Ho Hops” beer was described as a “winter ale that will warm you to the core, with slightly bitter hops in contrast with rich, malt overtones.”
“Sounds good,” she said, as if she really cared about the flavor of the beer she was about to order. How could she care about such a thing, when all of her senses were so overwhelmed with Jackson’s presence? She wanted to take in every gesture he made: the light touch of his fingers grazing the brim of his baseball hat; the way his muscles rippled beneath his tee every time he leaned against the table; the faint smell of his cologne, which was becoming tantalizingly familiar to her.
When a server breezed toward them in the casual way that the Corner Bar staff usually worked, Jackson held up a hand. “Two of the Ho Ho Hops,” he said.
The server smiled and winked. “You got it, Mr. Wylde,” he said quickly, before passing by.
“This place is a far cry from the Heritage Manor,” Bianca couldn’t help but note, just as a group of college students erupted with rowdy laughter at a table nearby. “I can’t believe you hang out here.”
“I like the atmosphere,” Jackson said. “I told you—I’m a simple guy at heart.”
“I thought that over,” Bianca admitted. “And I’m not sure I believe you.” Her tone was light and flirtatious, and she stole a glance at Jackson through her lashes as she placed the drink menu back between the ketchup and mustard. “You were raised with all sorts of privileges, I bet. Private school, I’m guessing.”
He nodded. “I went to Bertram Woods, over near Castleton.”
Bianca uttered a dramatic moan. “A Bertram Woods boy!” she said with a laugh. “We had a few names for you guys, at my public school. They’re not friendly so I won’t repeat them here.”
He raised a brow. “Oh really? Come on, tell me. I’m tough. I can handle it.”
She shook her head. “No, no… I couldn’t. What year did you graduate?”
When he rattled off the year, Bianca did some quick math and figured out that Jackson was forty-one.
It amazed her that he was in his forties—he looked like he could be in his early thirties. Apparently, his money bought him more than just multiple nice sports cars; he could also afford luxuries that kept him in glowing health. She imagined organic fresh foods, a staff of people to prepare meals, facials, personal trainers, and anything else he wanted or needed.
It was nice to know that he was a few years older than her. She was surprised to find that, with that knowledge, she felt even more attracted to him.
“So you’re forty-one,” she said. “When you were graduating high school, I was still in elementary school.”
“Oh really?” he said. “Well then you have some nerve, calling me names for going to Bertram Woods.”
She laughed. “Hey, I didn’t say any of the names. I just said we had some. I went to Memphis High, and believe me, we needed reasons to feel superior to you guys. We lost every sporting event we ever played with you, so we resorted to name-calling.”
“That’s not very fair, is it?” Jackson asked, as a female server paused at the table to unload a few pints of beer from her crowded tray.
“You two order the Ho Ho Hops?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s us,” Jackson said. He slid one of the overflowing pint glasses over to Bianca, and she accepted it with a smile.
As the server departed, Jackson shook his head and said under his breath, “So… she doesn’t believe I’m a simple guy.”
“Maybe you don’t really know what simple means,” Bianca said.
Jackson grinned. “I like being challenged,” he said. “How am I going to convince you that I’m really a down-home kind of guy?”
Bianca pretended to think this over, but really she was reveling in the flirtatious energy that had blossomed at their table.
She took a sip of her drink and noted that it lived up to its description. The flavor was perfect—not too bitter, and not too sweet. It was standard at the Corner Bar to work with a tag-team of servers, so she wasn’t surprised that no one had asked them about food yet. It occurred to her that if she drank the beer without eating, the alcohol would go right to her head. But as she sipped, she found that she didn’t mind. It might be nice to have a beer buzz in Jackson’s presence.
A giddy sense of excitement filled her body, as effervescent as the drink in her hands.
“I know,” Jackson said. “How about this. Do you hear the song playing?”
Bianca focused her attention on the tune that emanated from the outdoor speakers. For once, the song wasn’t Holiday themed, a rare occurrence in public spaces ever since the beginning of November. Instead, it was a country song that had been popular about ten years before.
She laughed. “Sure, this is Billy Finn… his big hit from that summer when so many country songs were about tractors.”
Jackson laughed. “Yes, ma’am!” he said. “And guess what I was doing when I first heard this song.”
“What?” she asked skeptically. She lifted her beer to her lips and took a refreshing sip.
“I was driving down Ashcroft road, south of the city, on my way to the Wyatt fishing hole.”
Bianca narrowed her eyes. “Really?”
“Sure thing,” he said with a nod. “Caught a thirteen-inch largemouth bass. It was one of the best fishing days I had that year, and it was even better because my favorite radio station played this song about a dozen times.”
Bianca found herself tapping her foot to the beat of the song. It really was good, and Jackson’s story brought her memory back to the first time she’d heard it, too.
“Wow,” she said. “I remember I was driving to work when it came on. I was giving my friend Jolene a ride and we rolled the windows down and played it loud as we pulled into the shopping center.”
Jackson chuckled at this.
Bianca grinned, too. It was fun to remember how carefree she’d felt at age twenty-four, the summer when the song had first been released. “So, you have a good memory, I take it,” she said. “Do you remember every fish you ever caught?”
He sipped his beer and then shook his head. “Only the fish I caught on the really good, five-star days; those days when the sun glitters on the water, and the whole world seems friendly. I love being out in nature. I have a canoe, too. Maybe I’ll take you out on it sometime.”
Bianca smiled at this. She liked the idea of being out in a canoe with Jackson. Before she could respond, however, a young woman appeared at the table, carrying a tray and sporting a dazzling smile.
“Hey there!” she said. She set down two shot glasses filled with amber liquid, and Bianca saw that her T-shirt was emblazoned with the name of a popular whiskey company. “Would you two care to sample our newest blended bourbon? We combined five of our most popular bourbons and it has a distinct, unique flavor that I really don’t want you to miss out on.”
Jackson eyed Bianca. “What do you think?”
Bianca’s eyes widened. “I barely ever drink liquor,” she said, “but what the heck?”
The memory of being twenty-four and blasting country music from her car spea
kers was still on her mind. She remembered how carefree she used to feel; how everything felt like an exciting adventure. Here, sitting with Jackson, she had that same feeling.
She nodded and reached for one of the glasses that the woman had set down. “I’m in,” she said with a grin.
“We’re in!” Jackson said to the whiskey rep. He reached for a glass as well. “Thank you.”
“Sure thing!” the young woman said. “I’ll be around for the next few hours, so just give a shout if you want a second round. And don’t forget to fill out a raffle ticket on your way out!”
She sashayed away, and Jackson lifted his glass. “Cheers,” he said, in an intimate, deep tone that made Bianca melt.
Bianca lifted her glass and gestured upward with it to mirror Jackson. Then she held the shot glass to her lips. The bourbon burned on its way down her throat and made her whole body tingle once she’d swallowed.
“Whew!” she said, shaking her head slightly and reaching for her beer. She sipped, soothing her taste buds.
For the next half hour, they took turns trying to name each aged and dated country song that played. Bianca thought back to memories that she’d not recalled in years. Jackson laughed as he told her about various adventures with friends he’d grown up with, like the time he and two buddies climbed to the top of a water tower and watched the sun come up, or when his dad taught him to drive on a dirt road at the edge of the city.
He’s not just the CEO of a billion-dollar company, she thought to herself as Jackson ordered a burger and fries. He’s more than that. Much more.
Maybe being his fake wife will be kind of fun.
An image of accompanying Jackson on his next canoe ride flashed through her mind.
Bianca was smiling as she ordered her meal. “I’ll take the burger and fries too,” she said. It wasn’t her usual, but she figured she’d give it a shot. Change is in the air, she thought. It’s time to try something new.
“Got it,” the server said. “We’re slammed tonight, so I apologize in advance for the wait. Could be an hour for the cooks to get this out to you.”
“Oh, now this is a good one,” Jackson said, once the server departed. He hummed along to the chorus of the song. “‘Out Across the County Line.’ Remember this one?”
Bianca nodded her head and started to sing along as the next verse started up. When Jackson joined in, she couldn’t help but smile. As far as she was concerned, the cooks could take as long as they wanted to prepare their burgers. She was happier than she’d ever been, just sitting right there with Jackson.
Chapter 11
Jackson
Three Weeks Later
Jackson scanned the parked cars in the lot. The gravel area in front of the Dove Meadows Dog Park contained about a half dozen cars, but he didn’t see Bianca’s beat-up coupe.
“She’s not here yet,” he said to Rufus, who was sitting up attentively, panting with his tongue extended.
Rufus whined and eyed the lot’s entrance as Jackson pulled into a spot.
Given that it was now mid-December, the temperatures outside were cool. Folks walking their dogs from the gravel lot to the fenced area beyond wore puffy, colorful coats, and hats to protect them from the mild chill in the air. It was nearing two, and Bianca had promised to meet Jackson at the park entrance at two fifteen so that they could let the dogs romp before the busy afternoon of checking out wedding venues.
“We’re early, buddy,” Jackson said, reaching over to Rufus’s head and giving the fur between his ears a ruffle.
Rufus refused to let his eyes leave the place where cars turned into the lot. An SUV entered, and Rufus perked up. He whined again when a poodle jumped out of the SUV, rather than Peaches.
“You’ll see your friend in a few minutes, I promise,” Jackson said. “You’re pretty fond of Peaches, aren’t you?”
When Rufus refused to give Jackson the time of day, Jackson turned his attention to his phone. He opened his email, which was a habit of his when he found himself with a few minutes to spare.
While he browsed various work-related messages, he thought about Bianca. They’d been spending hours each week preparing for the wedding that was now only ten days away. Jackson was impressed at how much they’d managed to accomplish as a team: they’d nailed down a florist, caterer, and band. They’d sent out fancy save-the-date cards, designed seating charts, and booked an officiant.
Together, the week before, they’d sampled various wedding cakes. Jackson could still picture the expression of bliss on Bianca’s face when she tasted the coconut-cream layer cake that they’d decided on. He grinned and looked up from his phone, toward the street that passed by the park.
He felt his whole body become energized at the sight of a car slowing down to turn. In a split second, he realized that it wasn’t Bianca’s, but the sense of anticipation lingered.
I’m just as bad as Rufus, Jackson thought, as he realized how much he was looking forward to seeing Bianca. He’d never have imagined that planning a wedding—and a fake wedding, at that—would actually be enjoyable. But with Bianca, it was.
He returned his focus to his emails, but he looked up again when a motion through the windshield caught his eye. It was Bianca’s car, slowing down and turning. She parked next to him.
Oh, wow, he thought, as she stepped out of the vehicle. She’s gorgeous.
He’d noticed that Bianca’s beauty was becoming more and more apparent to him the more he got to know her. Just two nights before, they’d been walking back to their respective cars after meeting with a photographer, and he’d caught sight of her profile, bathed in the soft glow of a streetlight. He knew every curve of her brow, nose, chin, and cheeks. But somehow, in certain instances, she took on a new degree of gorgeousness that he could not deny. This was one of those cases.
A long, pale green dress hugged her curves. A soft brown cardigan protected her arms and shoulders without detracting from the beauty of her figure. Her auburn hair was pinned back, and she wore ankle boots that gave her an extra inch of height. A simple gold bracelet on her wrist shimmered in the afternoon sunlight. She looked stunning, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she opened the back seat to let Peaches out.
Her golden leapt out into the lot, wagging her tail with excitement. Bianca petted Peaches and then looked over at Jackson with curiosity, as if wondering why he hadn’t gotten out to greet her yet. She lifted her hand and gave him a tentative wave.
He forced himself to move but was still speechless once he was out of his car.
“Hey!” she said. “Are you feeling okay? You’re acting funny.”
“Uh… I…” Jackson couldn’t remember ever feeling so tongue-tied. Usually, he had a quick response ready on the tip of his tongue. But now, as he recognized just how deep his attraction for the woman before him ran, he could barely form a sentence.
I want to hold her, he thought, as a sudden vision of sweeping Bianca up in his arms flooded his inner landscape. I want to kiss her. Right here, right now.
“Jackson?” Bianca said, peering at him with concern.
The sound of Rufus barking from the car pulled him from his reverie. “I’m fine,” he said, as he turned to open the passenger side door.
Rufus jumped out and tackled Peaches with excitement. When the two dogs took off toward the grass, Jackson and Bianca followed.
For the next half hour, they threw a tennis ball for the two dogs and chatted amiably about the wedding venues they were about to visit.
“We’ve heard back from eighty people,” Bianca said. “I think that the Rosewood Gardens seating area is going to be too small. The woman on the phone mentioned outdoor seating, but it could be too cold for that. And what if it’s raining? Or snowing?”
“Do they have heating lamps?” Jackson asked.
Bianca shook her head. “We could rent them, but that’s going to be a whole ordeal in itself. We only have ten days to go, minus two if we count the fact that your sister is getting
into town on the twenty-third… Oh, have you heard back from her yet? Is her husband going to make it?”
Jackson plucked a slobbery tennis ball from between Rufus’s teeth and hurled it out into the meadow nearby. “She texted me last night, actually,” Jackson said. “Stan can’t make it. Apparently he’s in the middle of some big-budget film and can’t risk getting off schedule.”
“But it’s Christmas!” Bianca said.
Jackson shrugged. “That’s how Stan operates. He and Danielle are both super career-oriented. Actually, it’s a small miracle that Danielle’s flying in. She rarely takes time away from work.”
“Your mother will be happy to see her, won’t she?” Bianca asked.
Jackson thought this over. He’d seen his mom once since the Historical Society fundraiser, and they’d talked only briefly about Danielle. He could still recall the distant and detached look on Mary’s face when the conversation turned to her daughter.
“I don’t know,” Jackson said truthfully. “Things are strained between those two. Danielle is different than I am. When my mom left, Danielle wrote her off. She says she moved on and doesn’t consider my mom family anymore.”
“Wow. That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?” Bianca murmured.
Jackson nodded. “That’s Danielle for you. She doesn’t do anything partway. It’s all or nothing.”
“Well,” Bianca said, as she took out her phone and tapped the screen. “If her husband’s not coming, we’re down to seventy-nine confirmed guests. But I still think the Rosewood Gardens is too small. But this Sherwood Ranch could work—they have an indoor ‘gathering room’ that fits one hundred guests. Speaking of, we’d better hit the road. We’re due there in forty-five minutes, and they’re clear across town.”
“Sounds good,” Jackson said.