by Naima Simone
Rochelle’s gaze dropped down to Remi’s body, skimming her dress. Before her mother’s scrutiny even lifted back to Remi’s face, anxiety and unease churned in her belly. Tension invaded her body, drawing her shoulders back, pouring ice water into her veins.
She knew what was coming.
Braced herself for it.
“Maybe... Maybe if you would try to dress just a bit more appropriately for a woman of your—stature, you could possibly be more than friends. If you wore clothes that...concealed rather than drew attention to problematic areas, perhaps Declan would focus more on your lovely face and ignore everything else.”
The gentle tone didn’t soften the dagger-sharp thrust or make the wound bleed any less.
That it was her mother who twisted the knife and sought to slice her self-esteem to shreds only worsened the pain.
“I’m only telling you this because I love you, and I want you to be happy like your sisters. You know that, don’t you, honey?” Rochelle covered Remi’s cold hand, squeezed it, the hazel eyes that Remi had inherited, soft and pleading.
I don’t know that! If you cared, if you really loved me like you do Briana and Sherri, then you would see how you’re tearing me apart.
The words howled inside her head, shoved at her throat with angry fists. Only the genuine affection in her mother’s gaze chained them inside. That and her unwillingness to hurt her mother, even though Rochelle didn’t possess the same reluctance.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Remi murmured, setting her drink down on a nearby table. She couldn’t stomach it anymore.
Couldn’t stomach... A lot of things anymore.
Without waiting for her mother’s reply, she strode over to the small group where Declan stood. He glanced down at her, and that violet gaze sharpened, seeming to bore past the smile she fixed on her face.
Several minutes later, before she had time to fully register being maneuvered, she found herself bundled in her coat on the sidewalk outside the café, Declan at her side.
She didn’t speak as they strolled back in the direction of the library, and he didn’t try to force her into conversation. The events of the entire day whirled through her mind like a movie reel, pausing on the kiss before speeding on fast-forward to him showing up at the library only to pause on her discussion with her mother.
I want you to be happy like your sisters.
Remi could pinpoint the last time her mother had been proud of her. Because it’d been the time of her last heartbreak, her last failure.
And the whole town had been there to bear witness.
For Rochelle Donovan, happiness meant a husband, marriage, children. And Remi desired that—she did. But if she didn’t have them, she wasn’t less of a woman, less worthy. Not having the whole fairy-tale wedding and family thing wouldn’t be due to the size of her breasts, hips or ass. And she refused to decrease in size—whether in weight, personality or spirit—for someone else to love her.
She’d been willing to do that once. Never again.
And yet... Yet, for a moment, Remi had glimpsed that flicker of pride in her mother’s eyes again, and her heart had swelled. It’d been so long.
She was tired of being a failure in her mother’s eyes. Of being a disappointment. Was it so wrong to yearn for that light in Rochelle’s gaze directed toward her, the one Briana and Sherri took for granted?
Remi knew who she was. Knew her own worth. Owned herself.
But just once...
She slammed to an abrupt halt. And turned to Declan.
To his credit, he didn’t appear surprised or alarmed. He just slid his hands into his pants pockets, his coat pushed back to expose that wide chest, flat abdomen and those strong thighs. A swimmer’s body—tall, long and lean. And powerful. Staring at him, she combatted the need to step close and closer still, curl against the length of him and just... Rest. She’d come to rely on herself a long time ago, but in the café, she’d uncharacteristically allowed him to take charge. And it’d been a relief. To let someone else carry the burden for a few moments—yes, it’d been a relief.
But that had been an aberration.
She just needed him for one thing.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend.”
Declan cocked his head to the side, studied her for a long moment. “Why have you changed your mind?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” he murmured. “I think it does.”
A flutter in her belly at his too-soft, too-damn-understanding voice. “No, it doesn’t,” she said. “Are you changing your mind?”
Again, he didn’t immediately reply. “No, Remi, I’m not. I still need you.”
Dammit, he should choose his words more carefully. A greedier woman could read more into that statement.
“Well then, I accept. But I have my own counterproposal.” When he dipped his chin, indicating she continue, she inhaled a breath, held it, then exhaled, attempting to quell the riot of nerves rebelling behind her navel. “You have to agree to attend Briana’s engagement party with me in a month. Four weeks should be more than enough time to convince Tara that we’re a legitimate couple.” She stuck out her hand. “Deal?”
Declan stared at her palm as if he read all her secrets in the lines and creases. Slowly, he lifted his intense gaze to hers and, without breaking that connection, engulfed her hand in his bigger, warmer one.
Then drew her closer.
And closer.
Until his woodsy cloves-and-cinnamon scent surrounded her, warmed her. Seduced her. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. Trapping the moan that nudged at her throat and ached to slip free.
The hand not holding her hand cupped her neck, his thumb swept the skin under her jaw. She shivered.
And held her breath.
Those beautiful, carnal lips brushed over her forehead.
“Deal.”
She exhaled.
These next four weeks were going to be... Killer.
CHAPTER FOUR
Declan: Hey, are you up?
Remi: It’s 9:30. I’m not 80.
Declan: Is that a yes?
Remi: *sigh* Yes.
Declan: Is it ok for me to call?
Remi: Sure.
REMI STARED AT her phone screen, heart thudding in her chest, waiting on the black to light up with his name as if she were a teen and the captain of the football team had promised to call. And when the screen lit up with his name, she had to slap her traitorous heart back down with a reality check.
Fake relationship. Get it together. This isn’t some chick flick starring Zendaya.
“Hello.”
“Why don’t I remember you being this snarky before?” he asked in lieu of greeting.
Because we’ve never had a real conversation past “Hi” and “Excuse me, I need to get to the creamer” at Mimi’s Café. Since saying that would reveal more than she was willing to expose, she went with, “I’m not sure I can answer that. And tell me that’s not what you called to ask me.”
He snorted. “No. It hit me that we didn’t come up with a cover story for how we got together. If our...relationship is going to be believable, we’ll have to be of one accord with that.”
“Wow.” Remi shook her head even though he couldn’t see the gesture. “Is even saying the word relationship painful?”
“Oh, sweetheart, if you only knew,” he drawled.
No, Remi ordered her damn heart again. You will not turn over at that endearment. Cut the shit!
She cleared her throat, absently picking at the thread on the couch cushion beneath her. “So do you have any ideas for how we became completely enamored of one another?”
“I’m guessing me trying to stop you from bringing disease and destruction to the earth, but we ended up falling for one another is out?”
<
br /> A loud bark of laughter escaped her, and she clapped a hand over her mouth even though no one lived with her to hear it. “And what’s this disease that I’m so intent on bringing to the earth? Love?”
His mock gasp echoed in her ear. “How did you know?”
She snickered. “Okay, I’ve read Pestilence, too, and Laura Thalassa is brilliant. Oh, which reminds me.” She snapped her fingers. “I’ve been meaning to recommend Crave by Tracy Wolff, if you haven’t read it already. I think you’ll love it.”
“Thank you. I’ll definitely pick it up.” A pause. “How do you know what books I’ll love?” he murmured.
Heat surged into her face, and she closed her eyes, lightly banging her head against the back of the couch. Dammit.
“I’m a librarian. It’s my job to notice what people are reading.” Nice save, she assured herself. She hoped. Please God, let it be a nice save. “Besides, when a man comes into the library and I catch him unashamedly reading YA paranormal romance, my nerd heart rejoices. And I want to feed his literary addiction.”
When he chuckled, she silently breathed a deep sigh of relief. And sent up another prayer of thanksgiving. And maybe a promise to attend service on Sunday. It’d been a while.
“There’s our story,” Declan said. “We met at the library when you noticed what I was reading and suggested a book you thought I’d like. We struck up a conversation, I asked you out, the rest is history.”
“It’s like our own book nerd fairy tale.”
“Book nerds are the shit.”
“Hell yeah we are.” Remi grinned, and once more had to order her heart to stop doing dumb things. Like swooning.
“’Night, Remi. And thank you again.”
“Good night, Declan.”
Remi: I’ve arranged our first date for Friday night after you get to Rose Bend. Hayride.
Declan: Pass.
Remi: Sorry. Bought the tickets. You wanted to be visible. What’s more visible than a hayride?
Declan: Dinner. Coffee. A stroll. Standing in the damn street. All don’t involve hay. Or hay.
Remi: We’re doing it. Suck it up, city boy.
Declan: Why am I doing this again?
Remi: Hey! You kissed me!
Declan: Oh believe me. I can’t forget.
Remi: ...
Declan: Too soon?
Remi: Bundle up. It’s going to be cold.
* * *
Declan: So the hayride was fun.
Remi: ...
Declan: I can hear you saying I told you so.
Remi: Me? Nooooo.
Remi: But I did.
Declan: No one likes a know-it-all. Even beautiful ones.
Remi: You don’t need to do that.
Declan: Do what?
Remi: Do the compliment thing when no one’s around to hear it.
Declan: I can be truthful whether I have an audience or not, Remi.
Declan: If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t say or rather type it.
Remi: No it doesn’t. Just... It’s not necessary.
Declan: Are we having our first argument as a couple?
Remi: I think we are... And just for the record, I win.
Declan: Of course, dear. Yes, dear.
Remi: Such a good fake boyfriend.
* * *
Remi: Heads-up. If Tara asks, my nickname for you is babycakes.
Declan: WTF??
Remi: She was pushing it. Had to come up with something.
Remi: Ok, kidding. Sorta. But she did corner me today and was her usual petty self.
Remi: Why didn’t you tell me you used to be married?
* * *
THE PHONE RANG seconds later, and Remi sighed before swiping her thumb across the screen. She should’ve expected this call, but her stomach still dropped toward her bare feet. All afternoon, since Tara had approached Remi outside Sunnyside Grille after lunch, she’d gone back and forth about whether or not she would ask Declan about his previous marriage.
Over the two weeks they’d been “together,” the texts and phone calls had been constant, and when he came to Rose Bend, they’d spent every day together. As couples did. But they weren’t real—no matter how her pulse tripped over itself at just the sound of his voice in her ear or the sight of his name in her messages. Or how thick, hot desire twisted inside her when his hand rested on her hip or cupped the back of her neck. A shiver rippled down her spine at just the memory of the possessive touch.
No. Not possessive. She had to remember and remind herself what this was. Fake. A sham. For the benefit of another woman who’d done what Remi could not allow herself to do.
Fall for him.
She could not be that naive or stupid.
Raising the phone to her ear, she said, “Hey.”
“Remi,” he replied. “What did she say to you?”
“She didn’t go into details,” she gently reassured him. Because from the tautness of his voice, it seemed as if he needed to be reassured. “It seemed more like she wanted me to know she had information about you that I didn’t have.” She hesitated but couldn’t hold back the question that had been plaguing her for hours. “Why didn’t you mention it, Declan?”
“It’s not important.”
The abrupt, almost-harsh reply echoed in the silence that fell between them, mocking his adamance.
“Your mom might not have moved to town yet during my last relationship, so you may not have heard about it. But it was the topic of conversation three years ago, for months.” She inhaled a deep breath, bile pitching in her stomach at the thought of talking about Patrick and the disastrous, public ending of their relationship. But if she wanted Declan to trust her with his story, maybe she had to take that first step.
“Patrick Grey was a resident at the hospital in the next town over but lived here. We met at the annual motorcycle rally, and I fell hard, fast. Handsome, smart, and yeah, he was going to be a doctor. Not bad, right?”
She gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh. Because, yes, bad. If only she hadn’t allowed those things to blind her to his other, not-so-favorable traits.
“We were together for a year and a half. And him being a resident, we didn’t have a ton of time together. But I loved and enjoyed every minute when we were. So much that when he started criticizing my dinner or breakfast choices, or offering his opinion on what I wore, I didn’t see his comments as negative. Just that he was concerned with my health or wanted me to look my very best. But when he started using what he called ‘reward systems’—lose five pounds and he would agree to take me to the bar around his work friends—then I couldn’t deny what I’d been ignoring.”
“Remi,” Declan breathed. “You don’t have to tell me this.”
“I’d like to say that I broke up with him,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, because yes, she did need to get this out. She hadn’t spoken about it since it happened. It was time to purge herself of this festering wound. “But I can’t. One Saturday morning, I walked into Sunnyside Grille to meet my sisters for breakfast since Patrick had to work a double shift. Or so he’d texted me. But that wasn’t true. Because when I entered, there he was. Sitting in one of the booths near the door, sharing the Sunnyside Up Special with a slender, gorgeous brunette. Well, that’s not true. They weren’t sharing it because they were too busy kissing.”
She swallowed hard, still seeing Patrick, the man she’d imagined building a life with, giving another woman what he should’ve only offered her. Three years had dulled that pain to a twinge.
“When he saw me, he didn’t even apologize. Instead, he blamed me for sending him to another woman. He wasn’t original. The usual. If I’d only taken care of myself, lost the weight, hadn’t been so fat and lazy. In front of everyone in that diner. He didn’t give a damn about humiliating me in front of
my family, the people I’d grown up with. And I was so stunned, so hurt, I stood there and took it. Grace, the owner, came over and ordered him out. Told him to never bring his ass in there. And Cole and Wolf Dennison escorted him to the sidewalk.” A faint smile curved her lips, and it went to show how she’d healed, because there was a time she’d never believed she could feel any humor with the memory. “But the damage had already been done. People get dumped all the time. But mine had been devastating, humiliating and public.”
“What happened to the asshole?” he snapped.
She blinked. “Um, I don’t know. I don’t care. Last I heard, he found a position in a hospital out of state.”
“That just means it’s going to take me more time to track him down.”
“What?” She laughed. “Declan, stop playing.”
“Who’s playing?” he growled. “And next time I’m in town, I’m treating Cole and Wolf to beers.”
“That’s...sweet.” She smiled, and warmth radiated in her chest. “Thank you.”
“You’re perfect, Remi. I hope you know that. And fuck him if he was too much of a narcissistic, insecure bastard to realize it. Or I bet he did realize it. But to make himself feel better about himself, he tried to make you smaller. And I’m not talking about the size of your gorgeous ass or hips—which you fucking better not touch. I hope you know any real man would see the beautiful, sexy, brilliant woman you are and not ask you to change a damn thing. Hell, he would have to up his game to be worthy of you.”
Her lips popped open. Thank God they were on the phone because she would’ve hated for him to glimpse the tears stinging her eyes or the heat streaming into her face. If he looked at her now, he would see her feelings for him. She didn’t have to cross her bedroom to the mirror over the dresser and know that the need, the hunger, the... No, she backed away from labeling that emotion. But she knew those emotions would greet her in her reflection.
“Remi?” he murmured. “Sweetheart?”
Her fingers fluttered to the base of her throat, and she closed her eyes.