The Dating Arrangement

by Kerri Carpenter

  He laughed. “I don’t want to be just another charred kabob, so let’s tackle this problem one step at a time.”

  She took three calming breaths, put her scotch on the coffee table and then placed her hands primly on her lap. “First, we need to get to know each other.”

  That was easy enough, he thought. Plus he’d like to get to know more about the intriguing Emerson Rose Dewitt. “How about a rapid-fire Q and A session? I’ll go first,” he said, without waiting for her to respond. “I already know your middle name. Mine is Martin, after my grandfather. What’s your favorite color?”

  “Pink,” she said with a nod. Then she jerked forward. “No, purple. Well, it used to be pink, but I really do like purple more. My bedroom’s purple. I suppose you would know that if we were really dating and you weren’t just my fake boyfriend. Although, you should definitely not tell my father that you know the color of my bedroom.”

  “Emerson, breathe. There are no right or wrong answers here. If you don’t have a favorite color, that’s not a big deal. How about favorite movie?”

  He waited for her to name a typical chick flick. The Proposal, Love Actually, something with Ryan Gosling in it.

  “Die Hard,” she said definitively.

  He almost choked on his scotch. Instead he got up and retrieved a bowl of pretzels from the bar. She took one and he did the same.

  “You?” she asked.

  “Star Wars, any of the original trilogy. Favorite kind of food?”

  “Italian definitely,” she said with a mouthful of pretzel.

  “Me too,” he admitted. “Eggplant parm?”

  “Totally,” she said, and then licked her lips, drawing his attention there.

  He wondered what it would be like to lean over and just take a little nibble. She would taste of scotch and sex, he was sure.

  “What about women?”

  He snapped to attention. “Excuse me?”

  “Women?” She grinned. “You know, the sex that’s opposite of yours. Girls? Girlfriends?”

  Ah. “You mean did I have a lot of girlfriends?”

  Her head tilted back and forth. “More like, has there been anyone special in your life. As your pretend girlfriend, that’s something I should probably know.”

  He began tapping his foot. “There’ve been some women.”

  Emerson waited before blowing out a loud whoosh of air. “Please, stop talking. You really are a chatterbox.”

  Despite himself, he chuckled. “What do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t know. Who was your last serious girlfriend?”

  “Jessica.”

  Again, he went silent and she waited patiently before finally saying, “Good. Now, what was the deal with Jessica?”

  He was getting the idea that Emerson wouldn’t let this drop, so he decided he might as well let her in.

  “Jess and I dated when I was living in Vegas.”

  “Ohh, Vegas. Fun. What did you do there?”

  “I learned to play cards in my dad’s bar as a kid. All kinds of different games. But I had a real talent for poker. At one point, I was hanging out in Europe and met this guy from Vegas. He convinced me to come back to the States with him. We returned to his hometown and I entered my first official poker tournament.”

  “Did you win?” she asked.

  “I won that first tournament and kept winning for a long time.” In the meantime, he made a killing and acquired quite the impressive nest egg.

  “I liked playing, but I got a little bored after a while. I had gotten to know the owners of different casinos. One of them hired me on. I started as a poker dealer and ended up moving up to this job where I analyzed the workings of the casino and the flow of employees. I tried to build shifts around the busiest times.”

  “Cool job.”

  “It was,” he agreed. “That’s where I met Jess. She was a blackjack dealer. A good one. Very sassy and straightforward.”

  “How long did you date?”

  “About a year.” He would have seen her longer, only...

  “Why did you break up?” Emerson asked intuitively.

  He shrugged. Jack really didn’t like talking about breakups. He’d much rather talk about baseball, traveling, beer, the national debt. Anything.

  But Emerson nailed him with an expectant stare.

  “There was a period where I was working long hours. It didn’t leave much time for a social life. But it was a temporary experience. I thought she understood that.”

  Emerson nodded once, soundly. “She didn’t.”

  Again, he shrugged. “I found her in a compromising position with a guy who worked in guest services.”

  She frowned. “I’m sorry. It must have been really hard to work together after that.”

  It would have been. But no way would Jack stick around after that hurt. He’d really liked Jess. Found himself opening up to her in a way he hadn’t with any other woman who’d been in his life. She was funny and smart. She could throw a football better than he could and she made a mean chocolate pie.

  Then she betrayed him. It stung. Badly.

  “I picked up and moved,” he said.

  “Because of the breakup?”

  “Mainly. I headed to Tahoe and found work there.”

  Emerson cocked her head. It seemed like she wanted to say something. He was actually curious about her thoughts. But in the end, she remained quiet.

  They continued going over their likes and dislikes. Unimpressed and finished with his bone, Cosmo curled up on the booth and went to sleep.

  An hour later, Jack ordered a pizza. Normally, there was a cook in the back who made the typical bar foods: nachos, chicken tenders, burgers, mozzarella sticks and the like, but he was on vacation this week. Jack was thrilled when Emerson agreed to a supreme pie with the works. He was even more impressed when he watched her take a big bite into her first slice. Most women he’d met were less voracious in their appetite. At least in front of a man. But he liked to see a woman who could eat.

  While he went for a third slice, Emerson told him she liked country music, especially anything by Blake Shelton. In fact, he would venture a guess that Blake Shelton was her big celebrity crush by the way she blushed when she talked about him.

  “I stayed in Virginia for college and went to William & Mary.” She frowned.

  “What’s with the look? Didn’t like college?”

  “Oh no, I loved it. It’s just that, well, both of my parents went to Clemson. They weren’t thrilled when I picked William & Mary.”

  Jack sat back. He was impressed she even got into that school and couldn’t imagine that her parents weren’t too.

  “My sister ended up going to Clemson, so that made them happy,” she said softly.

  “Emerson,” he began, leaning forward. “You should be incredibly proud of where you went to school.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh I am. It’s just that...” She trailed off as she raised her hands and then let them fall into her lap. “It doesn’t matter.”

  But clearly it did. Something about her family dynamic was off and Jack was curious to learn more.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “After college, I worked for a large event-planning firm. I really love all of the details and nitty-gritty of planning an event. Eventually I started doing my own events on the side and found that I didn’t need a hundred-person office behind me. Plus I had a ton of contacts. So I started my own business. I work with a lot of mom-and-pop businesses, nonprofits and other outfits that need help planning events but don’t necessarily have huge checkbooks.”

  Jack liked the way her face lit up as she discussed her company.

  Another thing to be in awe of, in his opinion. She was beautiful, smart, funny, had attended a great school and owned a business. She was a catch and he had to wonder why she
wasn’t taken already.

  “Damn, this pizza’s good.” She sat back, with a satisfied smile on her face.

  “Glad you like it. Tony’s is the best. Wish they could serve it here in the bar.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Why can’t they?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For the reopening party. I can ask the owner of Tony’s if they’d cater. That shouldn’t be too hard to organize. Actually, they might even be willing to make a deal with you and deliver you a certain amount of pizzas a night to sell.”

  He liked the idea. A lot. “So...you could do that?”

  “Totally,” she said nonchalantly. “I know the owner. I brought some business his way. I planned an office holiday party last year and had them go to Tony’s, where they made their own pizzas and had a party. It was really fun.”

  Emerson dabbed her mouth with her napkin before folding it and placing it on her empty plate. “Now that we’ve brought up The Wright Drink, we really should discuss the bar a little more.” She gestured around the room.

  “Ah, the bar...”

  It wasn’t that he hated the bar. He had some good memories from the place when he was growing up. His mom taking him there to visit his dad, sitting on the barstools and spinning around and around until he got sick, and eating more bar nuts than was probably healthy for a kid.

  “Your dad left you the place.”

  “Surprisingly,” he muttered. Her eyebrow lifted. “I didn’t expect it.”

  “He never mentioned it? Consulted with you?”

  Jack shook his head. Why hadn’t he mentioned it? Or even asked if that was something Jack wanted to do. His father’s lack of communication was something that had forever troubled him about their relationship—and was something he’d never be able to go back and fix. He cleared his throat. “Not a word. He also hadn’t told me it had fallen on hard times.”

  “Well, don’t worry. We’re going to fix that.”

  Guilt built up. He knew he needed to make sure Emerson understood the full story.

  “Listen, Emerson, about the bar...”

  “Yes?”

  “I might sell it.”

  Her face fell. “What? Why? That a shame. It’s such a great space.”

  At that moment, Cosmo let out a loud snore. With his eyes firmly shut, he turned over, onto his back, exposing every part of himself to the room.

  Emerson glanced at the dog and then turned her big blue eyes on him in shock. “What about Cosmo?”

  Jack gulped and shook his head.

  “You’re not going to keep him?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I didn’t even know about him until this morning.”

  He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his thighs. “My life... Well, I don’t know what I want to do next. Or where I want to go. Dogs need consistency, routine.”

  Emerson’s eyes were wide and filled with worry.

  “I would make sure Cosmo had a good, stable home before I left. I’m not a monster. I’m just not sure that I want to run a bar. That I would even be very good at it.”

  “I bet you would,” she said confidently.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I’m not sure. I mean you definitely have the customer-service experience from your time working in casinos. But, more importantly, you grew up watching your dad. That was probably the best preparation.”

  He never thought of it that way. “I suppose so. But in any case, I want to fix it up. I’m either going to stay and need a good overhaul so I can reclaim some business and get back into the black, or I’ll make it attractive enough to interest a potential buyer. It’s prime real estate on King Street.”

  “True.”

  She seemed sad at this news, so Jack tried to change the subject. “Speaking of King Street and Old Town, so much has changed. There are so many new restaurants and bars and shops.”

  “When was the last time you were home?”

  “Five years... No, more than that.” Jack tried to remember. He’d been busy. But doing what? Roaming the world, working in casinos, playing poker, shirking from responsibility of any kind. “I wasn’t a very good son.”

  Whoa. Where had that comment come from? Emerson’s eyes locked on to his. Kindness emanated from them.

  “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t come home very often. I didn’t call as much as I should have.”

  “I think most people feel that way about their parents.”

  Agitated, he stood and walked toward one of the front windows. The customers had dwindled down to two, and they were both engrossed in the basketball game on TV.

  Emerson had risen, as well, and joined him near the window.

  “I was off doing my own thing. Kind of selfish.”

  The sun had set and shadows fell over King Street. White twinkly lights were strung in all the trees that lined the street. He saw his reflection in the glass, a reflection that showed a mixture of guilt and regret.

  “How can you say that?” she asked. “What’s selfish about living your life? Doing your own thing? That’s what you’re supposed to do.” She walked closer. “I wish I had done a little more of that,” she said quietly.

  Jack continued to stare out at the glittering lights and all of the people dashing to different shops and restaurants. “My dad used to make me Shirley Temples,” he said suddenly. He hadn’t known the name of his favorite drink when he’d been a kid. He’d called them the “cherry drink” because his dad always added extra cherries in his.

  “I realize now how sweet those drinks are. But man, to a ten-year-old, they were the best.”

  He shifted his weight. “Had my first real drink here too. A beer with the old man. He’d seemed proud to give it to me. A real moment, you know? It was after we won the championship in baseball.”

  Without warning, a feeling so strong and so potent took over. Grief, pure and simple, filled his entire being. The air thickened around him and he placed his head against the cool glass of the window.

  Jack didn’t know how long he stood there. But at some point, he felt Emerson’s arms wind around him. She pressed her body against his, hugging him tightly. Her scent, which he’d already come to know, enveloped him, wrapping him in a hug that smelled like flowers and spring.

  She didn’t say anything, and he was grateful. He reached down and squeezed her hands, trying to convey his gratitude. Until tonight, he’d had no one to really let go with. Funny how a runaway bride with family issues could help him gain a little perspective. He wasn’t alone. Not anymore. At least, not for the next month.

  Thanks to Emerson.

  He turned to face her. Her head tilted, and she met his gaze head-on.

  There were a lot of things Jack Wright didn’t know at the moment. What he would do with the bar, whether he would stay in town or once again go off seeking more adventures, or why his father left him the bar to begin with. But the one thing that he knew for damn sure was that he wanted to kiss Emerson more than anything.

  His gaze dropped to her full lips, watched them part in anticipation. Heard her intake of breath. Saw her chest rise and fall as her fingers slowly curled around his hips.

  He began to lean toward her, but as he did, his phone rang shrilly. He groaned, and Emerson let out a tentative laugh.

  The moment was over.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, with his voice sounding raspy.

  She shook her head and backed up. “No, I’m sorry. We shouldn’t... I mean...ah, your phone is still ringing.”

  He frowned. “Right.”

  Jack begrudgingly took the call, which turned out to be from his attorney. While he talked, he noticed Emerson walking back to their booth, petting Cosmo, and then gathering her coat and purse.
By the time he got Fred off the phone, Emerson was standing by the front door.

  “Leaving?”

  “I think I have to.”

  “I’m sorry, Emerson. I think we got carried away back there.”

  “Listen, Jack, we’re already up to our eyeballs in this whole thing. It’s probably not a good idea—”

  But he couldn’t let her finish that thought. “I liked what happened back there.”

  She blinked. “You did?”

  “Didn’t you?” he countered. She blushed, and he thought the extra color in her cheeks was adorable. He reached for her hand. “And thank you for listening. It was nice to have someone. To talk to, I mean.”

  His words seemed to do the trick and got rid of her nerves.

  “I’m glad. Your turn to be there for me next, on Thursday night. We have one uncomfortable family dinner to look forward to.”

  Jack watched Emerson walk out the door and head up the street. He waited until she’d turned the corner. He’d meant what he’d said. He did appreciate her being there for him tonight. In no way had he expected to break down like that.

  Of course, there was also that kiss. Or almost-kiss. That had been unexpected, as well.

  As Jack walked back into the bar, he had a feeling that the uncomfortable family dinner was going to be a hell of a lot more awkward than he’d bargained for.

  Chapter Five

  “Are you nervous? Don’t be nervous.”

  Jack tore his eyes away from the large two-story brick mansion to look at Emerson, who was sitting in the front seat of his truck, in a forest-green dress and those same sexy boots she’d worn the other night. Her hair was swept away from her face, drawing his attention to the long column of her neck.

  “You look beautiful,” he said.

  “What? Oh. Well, thank you,” she spluttered. The catch of words was better than the nervous chatter he’d been witnessing since he’d picked her up at her townhouse in Old Town, and drove the twenty minutes to her parents’ swanky neighborhood, down the George Washington Parkway, near Mount Vernon. She folded her hands in her lap and he noticed her nails were painted a bright red. “You’re not nervous?” she asked.