Fake Bride With Benefits

by Riley Rollins

  "A tie-dye bagel made with food coloring."

  "Sounds disgusting."

  "From what I hear, the hype of the rainbow bagel is unbelievable. It's trending, whatever the hell that means."

  "You're saying if I open a rainbow bagel shop, it'll attract a bunch of young kids to Maple Ridge and single-handedly save the economy."

  I shrug. "I got no idea. You're the one with the business degree. But way I see it, something like that could have a better shot than an old-school diner that'll serve a bunch of geriatrics until they fucking croak and put you out of business."

  We stop to look both ways before crossing the street, and suddenly Tess leans forward on her tip-toes and plants a quick kiss on my cheek.

  Moonlight peeks through the trees, and her skin looks so damn soft and fine in the night light. I just want to crush my lips against hers, but there's no way in hell I'd let myself do it. I'd let her put those lips around my cock, though.

  "Let's not get too emotional here," I say, wiping my cheek off with the back of my hand.

  Tess grins. "You're sweet to suggest that. Rainbow bagels. That's a bold idea. A bold idea that just might work."

  7

  Tess

  When I plant that kiss on Hunter's cheek, I can't help taking in his scent. It's all woodsy and manly, and I love the way his beard scrapes my lips. He's got the exact same smell he used to, and he gives me the same feeling inside as he did eight years ago.

  Of course, it doesn't mean anything. It was just a gesture between friends, a sign of appreciation for him supporting me. It's not like it meant anything more than that. After all, I'm not looking for anything, even though Meg keeps trying to convince me to sleep with him. I'm not going to let myself make any more mistakes with men, and Hunter Thorne would definitely be a mistake.

  I'm disappointed about the investors' decision, though. I really thought I had the best idea and the best pitch, and that's what everybody tells me. I try not to mope about it, though, because I'm excited by the opportunity that Mr. Roberts from the credit union mentioned.

  So the very next morning after the potluck, I call him and set an appointment. The next day, Hunter and I walk to his office together.

  "Good morning," says Mr. Roberts. "Pleased to properly meet you."

  We sit down in the deep leather chairs opposite Mr. Roberts.

  He takes his glasses off the bridge of his nose and polishes the lenses with a microfiber cloth between his thumb and index finger. "You know," he says, looking me in the eye, "I was very impressed by your presentation the other night."

  "Thank you," I say. "It was really just a last-minute idea."

  "That's not what I hear."

  "I mean, if I could go back in time, I would've put together a better—"

  "What I mean," says Mr. Roberts, "is I asked around, and I hear you've had a lifelong dream of opening a restaurant."

  I nod, and I wonder who he talked to, and what they said about me. "That's true."

  He puts his glasses back on. "I like supporting passion."

  "I'm your girl, then."

  He nods. "But you need to rework your idea."

  I swallow hard. "What do you mean?"

  "Miss Cassidy, with the direction this town is going, I won't be able to get you a business loan for a mom-and-pop style diner. I need to see bolder ideas. Something new, innovative, that can drive the town's economy out of this slump."

  I look over at Hunter. "I told you so," he says with a smirk. Freaking know-it-all.

  "Then tell Mr. Roberts about your idea," I say. "If you're such a business genius."

  Hunter turns his palms up. "This is all you, Tess."

  Mr. Roberts raises an eyebrow. I realize this isn't very professional behavior from someone seeking a business loan.

  I clear my throat. "Mr. Roberts, have you ever heard of rainbow bagels?"

  His eyes narrow. "Rainbow what?"

  "Bagels."

  "I can't say that I have."

  "Well, they're like bagels, but tie-dyed."

  "And you eat them?"

  I laugh. "Yes. They're huge in Japan right now. And Brooklyn."

  "Is that so," says Mr. Roberts. "And they're selling?"

  "I did some market research," I say. "They're going viral on Facebook and Reddit."

  "Well," he says, "I was going to send you away to do some research, but it seems you're one step ahead of me."

  I beam.

  "Of course, I'd have to do some vetting of my own."

  "I understand."

  "Then let me give you some preliminary information on your loan options," he says. He hands me a small number pad connected to his computer. "Please type in your social security number," he says.

  I do, and he takes down a bunch of my personal information for a credit check. When it comes back, he frowns. He squirts some hand sanitizer on, and rubs it in, while looking at the screen thoughtfully. Hunter and I just roll with it this time.

  "Hmm, that's what I was afraid of."

  My heart skips a beat. "What?"

  "You have insufficient credit history to receive a business loan anywhere near the amount you'd need."

  My heart sinks, and next to me, Hunter grumbles. I should have seen this coming. All my bills and accounts were under Roger's name, so it's no wonder I don't have a sufficient credit history. "So... that's it?"

  Mr. Roberts straightens up in his chair and smiles. "Fortunately not. There's one other option." He swivels around in his chair and grabs a three-ring binder off a bookshelf behind his desk. He riffles through it. "Here we go," he says, extracting a printed paper packet. He places it on the desk in front of me, and I lean forward to read it:

  Spouse and Partner Joint Business Loan Application

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Hunter peering down at the paper, his eyebrow cocked.

  I laugh nervously. "This says 'spouse and partner.'"

  "That's right," says Mr. Roberts. "It's a very special, subsidized state loan for married couples starting a business together."

  "But I've been divorced for six months," I say.

  Mr. Roberts smiles. "Well, you two are an item, right?"

  I laugh nervously, and Hunter shifts in his seat like he's got ants in his pants.

  "We're not—"

  "—an item," Hunter finishes for me. "Doesn't anybody in this damn town know when to keep their mouth shut?"

  "I'm sorry, but this just isn't going to work," I say.

  "Well then," says Mr. Roberts, shrugging. He slides the paper packet back toward himself. "I may not be able to help you after all."

  Hunter grumbles. "That's what you brought us here for?"

  "I promised nothing. Only to see what I could do."

  "There's got to be something else," I say.

  "Nothing that comes close. It's not easy to secure a loan of $250,000 plus." Mr. Roberts leans back in his chair, thinking. "You know," he says, "technically, the couple only needs to be married when the loan is disbursed."

  Hunter stares him down. "Are you seriously—"

  "The couple has to be married at the beginning. That, and each partner has to work at least 160 hours in the first month of operation. After that, the terms of the loan are fulfilled."

  I laugh. "You're not seriously suggesting we get married just to get a loan."

  Mr. Roberts shrugs. "Look, I'm not saying to play the system. As a banker, I'd never do that. I'm just telling you how this all works."

  I start to argue with him, but he interrupts me. "Tess. You have a good head on your shoulders, you've got an interesting business idea, and you've been wanting this for a long time. I'm doing my best to help you, but maybe you should try to think more practically."

  Hunter and I look at each other, a grim expression on both our faces.

  "I guess... we'll go home and talk about it," I say. I see Hunter's jaw clench out of the corner of my eye, and I grab his arm before he can open his mouth and sabotage my last chance to open a re
staurant. "Let's get out of here," I say.

  Hunter glares at me across my kitchen table, his arms folded over his chest. "This is fucking nuts," he says.

  "Oh, I agree," I say. My mind is racing a million miles an hour and I'm worried I'm getting ahead of myself. "This is crazy. It's real rich. Once upon a time, I wanted to be your real bride, and now I'm thinking about becoming your fake bride. For money."

  "You talk about this like it's all your decision." He grabs a Chips Ahoy out of the blue package on the table and wolfs it down.

  "Are you stress eating?"

  He gives me a you're unbelievable look. "You've ogled my abs enough to know that I don't 'stress eat,'" he says. "And I'm not stressed about anything."

  "He said we only need to be married for a month."

  "That's a month too long for me."

  "Are you even planning to be here in a month?"

  He shakes his head no. "I got all the parts I needed for the bike. I'm just waiting for some papers, the deed for my old man's place. It's all fucking tied up with the lawyers at the bank. Just legal shit. I should be out of here in a week, tops."

  "You're not willing to stay?"

  "I'm not looking to get roped into some crazy bank scam. I can tell you that," says Hunter, eating another cookie. I can't help but gaze at his lips when he licks them, and I imagine them tasting like chocolate chips. He gets up and sits against the kitchen sink, his arms still crossed.

  "Listen," I say, "Do you think I like this idea any more than you do?"

  He finally cracks a hint of a smile, at least that's what I think it is. "I wouldn't put it past you to try to tie me down."

  "You've really got a vivid imagination."

  "You know," he says with a smirk, "You don't have to tie me down just to get a fuck out of me."

  I turn beet red. "You realize I'm the one who just got out of a real marriage?" I say, getting annoyed. "You think I take the idea of marriage lightly?" My fists clench and I take shallow breaths.

  "Whoa, tiger," Hunter says, patting the air down with his palms. "Simmer down."

  God, he really knows how to be an asshole. A sexy, infuriating asshole that I can't seem to take my eyes off despite my best intentions. But he's all wrong about this.

  "Getting married is literally the last thing I want to do right now," I say. "If we do this thing, it's to get the money and that's it."

  He shakes his head slowly. "There's no one else you can rope into this?"

  "I'm not trying to rope anyone into anything. The only other person I'm this close to in Maple Ridge is Meg, and well..."

  Hunter breaks into a full-on grin. "Now that's something I wouldn't mind seeing."

  "You're a filthy animal."

  "Don't lie, you like it," he says with a smirk.

  "Damnit, Hunter," I say. "This would really mean a lot to me."

  He opens his mouth to argue with me, but then he sighs and drops his hands to his sides. "Fine," he says. "Fine. Goddammit. So say we do, what happens then."

  "Then I get the money."

  "No. What happens with everyone in this town, I mean."

  Shit. I didn't think that part of it through.

  "Oh, I uh..." I stammer, not knowing what to say. "I guess we have to tell them the truth."

  "That it's a fake marriage? You serious? I've never fucking heard of something like that."

  "Fine," I say, exasperated. "Then I guess we have to sell it to them." I can't stop thinking about my divorce, or what the town will say if they find out I'm in a fake marriage. Hunter is right. No one can know, or the town will never stop talking about it.

  "Alright," says Hunter. "You want to go down this rabbit hole, I'll fucking do it. Christ, I'm going to regret this."

  "You'll stay the full month like Mr. Roberts said?"

  He groans. "If I don't have any other choice. But we have to end this marriage before I leave town."

  "Obviously."

  "You know this is fucking ridiculous."

  "I'm aware," I say.

  "I'll do the heavy lifting and construction," he says. "That's all I fucking know about running a restaurant."

  "You're good at cooking, too."

  "Grilled cheese isn't the same thing as rainbow fucking bagels."

  "Melts. And if you can make a melt, you can definitely make a bagel."

  Hunter groans like he's a 90-year old man, and I have to suppress a laugh. "I don't make fucking rainbow bagels," he says. "Not now, not ever."

  "Okay," I say, "Whatever. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. So, we're getting hitched then."

  "A paper marriage."

  "You have to propose, then," I say, just to get a rise out of him.

  He gets on one knee, dramatically, and takes my hand in his. "Oh please," he says, "Please marry me so the bank can pay you 250 grand."

  I jerk my hand back. That wasn't very romantic at all.

  "Well..." I say. "You tried."

  He frowns and stands back up. "So this is a fake marriage with benefits, right?"

  I raise an eyebrow. "Absolutely not. But I hope you're ready to win an Oscar for best performance of the year."

  I lean up against Hunter, pat him on the head playfully, and plant another peck on his cheek. I mean, he's an asshole, but part of him is being a real sweetheart for agreeing to this. I know how crazy it sounds—how crazy it is—but maybe, just maybe, this will be my chance to finally live my dream.

  And when I brush against him, I can feel his big, thick, hard cock against my thigh.

  He doesn't see, thank God, but I can't stop myself from biting my lip. I've got a lot of really good memories about that.

  Too bad I won't be reliving them.

  8

  Hunter

  Fake married. I'm getting fake fucking married.

  What is that, anyway? Devil take it. God damn. I am way too nice.

  Tess grins, pats me on the head, and pecks me on the cheek. My erect cock strains through my jeans, throbbing against her thigh.

  She has to notice. It's like a fucking flagpole down there. And I have to recall my SEAL training just to wrestle control of myself, because every fiber of my body tells me to get inside that girl's pants.

  But when she pulls away, her face betrays nothing. Either she's an Oscar-winning actress, or else she really doesn't want to fuck me.

  Damn. A fake marriage without benefits. I must be turning into an old ass mummy like Marnes, because the younger me never would've let this shit happen.

  After she persuades me to go through with this crazy scheme, she heads out for her weekly supply run at Wal-Mart. The whole damn apartment smells like a Michaels, a foul-ass craft store I've been dragged to a couple times. Shit, if this insane plan gets her to quit this bullshit soap and candle business, that by itself will be reward enough. Now I'm stuck in this damn apartment for another month, minimum. Longer, actually. For a month after the restaurant is up and running. And to think, I nearly got out of here scot-free. I could be halfway to Alaska by now.

  But when she leaves, I'm still hard as fuck. And even though I'm normally in full and confident control of myself, right now I'm so damn horny I can hardly think.

  Sitting on the couch, I unbuckle my jeans and take my erect cock out of my pants. It's a nice cock and I know it. It's the kind of cock that girls just can't help complimenting whenever they see it. And having it for one night is never enough for any girl, even though that's all they ever get.

  I spit on my palm, grip my cock, and slide my hand up and down my shaft. The only fantasy in my mind is Tess, and I fucking want to feel her tight, wet pussy sliding up and down me instead of my hand. I've had it before and it's still the best I ever had.

  Right now I want her bareback. I want all her juices and wetness on me, and I want to be inside her. All the fucking way inside.

  I breathe hard, my pace quickening, and I feel myself approaching the point of no return. I keep jerking until I explode, shooting a huge fucking load of cum a
ll over my hands and abs. I don't slow down my jerking, because it feels too damn good imagining that I'm exploding inside her.

  When I come back down to Earth, I'm breathing hard. Damn. I need to get my shit together. Since when does Hunter Thorne get himself into a situation like this—engaged to a woman he can't fuck—jacking off on her couch while she buys bubble wrap at Wal-Mart?

  She should be getting over her ex-husband, and I should be on my bike right now, heading to Alaska.

  I'm going out of my damn mind.

  "I can't believe we're actually doing this," she says, crossing Main Street next to me. "This is insane."

  "I happen to agree." We just had an appointment with Mr. Roberts, and we filled out the loan application. Now we're walking toward the Maple Ridge courthouse. To get a marriage certificate. Then we just have to fax a copy of it to the loan approval office, and wait.

  "Are you nervous?" says Tess.

  "Nervous for a fake marriage? About as nervous as for a dentist appointment."

  "Oh," says Tess, sounding disappointed. "Yeah, you're right, it's a formality, no big deal."

  We walk down Main Street in silence. I never much cared for this town, but on cool mornings like this, it's damn nice. Such a change from the sweltering fucking ball-boiling deserts of Iraq. All the little stores are opening their doors, and the antique lampposts that line the cobblestone street have just been turned off from last night. It makes me want to dip into the Sunrise Café up at the corner here, and sit on the patio eating pancakes and reading the paper. Just a nice, quiet morning like I'm going to have plenty of in Alaska.

  At the courthouse, an old-timey building with more interior wood paneling than a 1970s Buick, we take a number. There are only three people here in front of us, but with only one clerk working, we have to sit down and wait.

  One of the other folks here is Oscar. Tess and I take a seat on a wooden bench next to him.

  "What's up man?" I ask. "Didn't get a chance to catch up at the potluck the other week."

  "Man," says Oscar, "You won't believe the shit the city is hassling me about."

  "Oh?" Tess perks up.