Fake It Till You Make It

by Anne Harper

  Arresting jawline. Arresting. Nell had read that description in a book once and now was seeing it out in the wild. The man could slice butter for grits with how defined it was, and the sharpness didn’t stop there. He had, dare she also think it, chiseled facial features. High cheekbones, a long nose, and lips that were surprisingly plump. They looked nice in their current half-smile state. His eyes looked nice, too. A bit cold with their light gray but nice.

  His dark blond hair was cropped close to his head, but there was a little swoop to the side that made the arresting, chiseled, surprisingly plump-lipped man harder to figure out in terms of his age.

  Not that, in any other terms, Nell was able to figure him out within the span of a well-meaning offer.

  One that Timmy sure thought she should take, given his blustering when he spoke.

  “That would work,” he hurried. “You would get the discount then, for sure.”

  In any other situation, Nell would be polite and decline and go home with her chin raised high and integrity together. But not today. The rain was still pelting the world outside and she was starving. Crying while driving the interstate was king when it came to calorie burning.

  So she nodded to Timmy first and then the man with a small, tired smile.

  “Okay.”

  Nell ignored the rest of the restaurant and settled into the chair the man pulled out for her, arresting jawline sturdy the entire time. When he was settled, he passed her the lone menu.

  “The coffee here isn’t too bad,” he said. “I don’t mind getting you a cup if you want. Or sweet tea. That seems to be popular, too.”

  “Oh don’t worry, I’ll just cover my half of the meal.”

  He chuckled. “Please, let me at least buy you a drink as a way to say thank you.” Nell arched her eyebrow up in confusion. He continued. “Listening to you was the most entertained I’ve been in a while.”

  Again, Nell should have felt the burn of embarrassment, but she was too wet and hungry to sling shame onto the pile.

  She snorted. “You can pay for that in coffee then. I need something to warm me up.”

  “Deal.”

  Timmy sent a waitress over lickety-split. Her name was Rhonda and she didn’t seem amused at all by the performance Nell had just given. She spoke to the man only and, when she left, she gave Nell a severe look.

  “And there might be a good chance there’s spit in my potatoes when I get them,” Nell muttered. The man laughed.

  “I doubt they’d chance incurring your wrath again.” He leaned over the small table, outstretching his hand. “My name’s Quinn, by the way.”

  His hand was freakishly big. Long fingers. Warm palm. The detail of his height belatedly filtered in now that she had accepted his jawline.

  Quinn was a tall, sturdy man. Maybe six two, with shoulders for days. Even sitting, he felt a foot taller than her five four. His hand was just a testament to how intimidating he must be to most people.

  But not to Nell.

  She shook without hesitation.

  “Antonella. Most people call me Nell.”

  He sat back and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Nell.”

  Then Big Man Quinn opened the book in front of him and started reading. Just like that.

  Nell felt the first flush of slight embarrassment. Like the man had rejected her and her pride stung from it.

  Five hours ago you were thinking about marrying Greg. Rejection or not, who cares? You’re done with men.

  The quick mental pep talk was effective. And needed.

  Nell let out a long, deep breath and imagined herself relaxing in a warm bath. A bath of deciding to never again fool around with dating. Of avoiding romantic entanglements. Of leaving men to read their books and judge her from behind the host counter.

  It was nice.

  She pulled her phone out and sent a text to one of her sisters and then her two brothers. It was about their mother’s birthday coming up soon. The big sixty. And, since they did every party big, that meant an entire weekend celebrating for this one.

  Nell hadn’t told anyone, minus the restaurant patrons and staff, about her split with Greg, and she wasn’t about to use their mother’s birthday as a springboard into the topic. Especially since two of her four siblings had been strongly against Greg since they met him at her college graduation.

  So she texted ideas of drinks to make and games to play and asked if they could get one of those pin-the-tail-on-a-hot-dude posters sold for bachelorette parties until the coffee came. Nell watched as Quinn drank his black and hot while never once looking up from his book. She drank hers, heavily sugared, and tried to pretend her curiosity about the man wasn’t going through the damn roof.

  As he got a refill from the waitress, once again not looking away from his book as he accepted it and started to drink, Nell finally caved.

  “All right, I have to know why you aren’t digging this love-filled holiday, either.”

  Gray eyes traveled up from the print to hers. He was smirking.

  She kept on. “I mean, you’re clearly very attractive—I’m not saying that to hit on you, it’s just like a detail that I assure you everyone else in here has already clocked—and, unless you have a dark side, you seem to be a nice guy. So what’s up? Why are you here on Valentine’s Day splitting what will likely be a mediocre Sweethearts Special with possible added spit with a stranger and not a date? There has to be a story there.”

  Quinn’s smirk didn’t change an inch. He’d been asked a similar question in the past, she was sure. Just maybe not so location specific.

  “I don’t know about all that, but—” He motioned to the front window. Nell turned to see a U-Haul parked in the rain out in the lot. “I’m in the middle of a move and didn’t want to drive in the rain. So that’s the here part of the story.”

  Nell met his eye with a raised brow.

  “So you’re not single, you’re just in transit.”

  “I am single, just also in transit.”

  Her eyes narrowed. She was being too nosy.

  She pressed on.

  “And you don’t like Valentine’s Day because you’re single.”

  “I don’t like Valentine’s Day because my ex-wife used to hate it and it eventually rubbed off on me. Now I get grumpy when I see construction paper hearts and those little candies that have sayings on them like ‘love you’ but spelled L-U-V.”

  Nell nodded and made an ahh I understand now sound.

  “There’s the red flag.”

  Surprisingly, Quinn laughed out loud in one booming burst. It triggered her own smile.

  “You know, that’s actually what my last date said. When I wouldn’t bad-mouth my ex, she said the divorce must have been my fault and that was just too many red flags for her.” He didn’t look hurt at all about the news, so Nell leaned into it.

  “Why won’t you shit-talk your ex?”

  Quinn shrugged. “Because she’s my son Owen’s mother and it’s my rule that I don’t hurt him by disrespecting her.”

  “Wow,” Nell breathed. “That’s the sexiest and sweetest red flag I’ve ever heard.”

  He laughed again. It drew looks from the teens in the corner.

  “Apparently my date didn’t think so. My single dad status was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  Nell shook her head, making tsk tsk sounds.

  “She didn’t even give you a chance to show her your real red flags, huh? How thoughtless.”

  “Exactly,” Quinn agreed. “We hadn’t even breached the whole topic of me not having any social media accounts.”

  This time Nell didn’t have to fake or mock shock. She rocked forward a little, eyes wide, like he’d just sprouted wings.

  “You don’t have Facebook? Twitter? Instagram? TikTok?”

  “Nope. I barely even Goog
le.” He motioned to the open book he’d been reading and then to her. “I prefer real life to all this tech and internet crap.”

  “‘All this tech and internet crap.’” Nell shook her head and whistled. “Boy. You think you know a total stranger and then this happens. What a ride.”

  Quinn laughed again and Nell kept smiling. Their waitress showed up right after and distributed their respective plates of chicken tenders, mashed potatoes, green beans, and buttered rolls. After she walked away, there was a moment of silence for the table. Then Quinn spoke up.

  “What are the chances she spit in my food, too?”

  Nell snorted.

  “I guess there’s no way to know until we dive in, sweetheart.”

  Quinn never went back to his book, and their meal was good. The conversation was easy but never really deep. Other than his divorce and the fact that he had a kid, he didn’t give her any more personal details, and Nell didn’t offer her own, either. It was nice to just be with someone who she could make laugh and who did a surprisingly good job of making her laugh in turn.

  So much so that when they went to pay their bill at the front, Nell felt a pang of panic in knowing she was about to part ways with the man. That panic turned into the need to stretch out their time together just a little longer. Which worked hand in hand with what Timmy offered them when their check was paid.

  “Would you two like a picture together?” he asked, some nervousness riding along with the question. Before Nell could ask why, the host motioned to a bulletin board along the wall next to them that she hadn’t noticed when she’d first come in. Across the top were pink and red cutout letters that spelled Sweethearts, with several Polaroids of smiling, kissing, and hugging couples pinned to the board beneath. “During the week before and after Valentine’s Day, any couple who shares the Sweethearts Special gets a complimentary picture plus one that goes on the wall. It’s tradition.”

  He made no move to pull out a camera and instead looked like a man bracing himself against an oncoming storm.

  Nell knew it was because of her earlier outburst and could admit to herself that if she hadn’t enjoyed her time with Quinn, she might have gone in for round two.

  Yet she had enjoyed herself, and now she wanted to end her run at the restaurant on a better note than when she’d started it.

  “Well, who are we to say no to tradition?” Nell looked up to her makeshift companion and was surprised to see him grinning.

  “I won’t be the one to break it,” Quinn agreed.

  Timmy looked equally surprised, but he didn’t let that stop him. He grabbed one of the new, smaller Polaroid cameras from behind his podium and motioned to the wall next to the board. A burst of nerves caught Nell off guard. Even more so when those nerves turned into giddiness. Among many things that day, she hadn’t expected that. The matter wasn’t helped when Timmy looked hesitant again once they’d taken their place.

  “I need you two to get closer so you’re both in the frame.”

  Quinn followed directions with precision. One second there was space between them, the next there was none. His arm went around her shoulders but his face was filled with concern.

  “Is this okay?”

  Nell couldn’t help but laugh. She nodded.

  She might not have known Quinn, but she did like him. However that made sense.

  “I think we could get away with a little more,” she said. “Just to show Valentine’s Day that it can’t beat us.”

  Nell angled her body so she could push up on her tiptoes and reach his lips. Half of the board next to them was filled with chaste-kissing couples, so why not them? Why not give the man who had saved her on the most embarrassing day of her life a small token of her gratitude?

  She meant the impulsive move to be subtle. A quick kiss for the camera. Something that was polite and restrained and, dare she think it, cute.

  But she was finding that Valentine’s Day had a way of being tricky.

  The moment Quinn lowered his chin so their height difference wouldn’t keep them apart, Nell knew she was a goner. There was nothing quick or cute about the lip-lock that followed.

  Warm. Strong.

  Hungry.

  Nell went from an intention of having a fleeting kiss to wishing it wouldn’t end.

  And, as far as she could tell, the feeling seemed to be mutual.

  Quinn returned the kiss and then some, turning his body to hers and dropping his hand to her waist like an anchor.

  Which was good because the deeper their kiss went, the more Nell felt like she was drifting.

  When was the last time she’d been kissed like this?

  When was the last time her stomach had become swarmed with the feeling of honest to goodness butterflies?

  When had—

  “Ahem. It’s done.” Timmy’s voice came in quiet but clear. “I took the picture, I mean.”

  Quinn was the first to detangle. He seemed to need a breath but then cleared his throat and nodded.

  “Good. Good.”

  Nell was less graceful. She made a noise that was born from somewhere between agreement and the need to get her bearings. Since Timmy had the more solid footing in the situation, he didn’t struggle to hand Nell the first picture. Though he did stop before giving Quinn the second one.

  “Usually we put the second one on the board, but if you want it instead—”

  Quinn shook his head.

  Quick and with feeling.

  “I don’t need it. Thanks.”

  Timmy’s eyes widened. Then he shared a look with Nell.

  She didn’t like the pity in it.

  Just like she didn’t like the sting Quinn’s quick rejection had created.

  “Oh, okay. I’ll put it on the board then.”

  Timmy was gone in a flash. Quinn didn’t wait around. He led them out of the restaurant while Nell pocketed her picture. Maybe she should have just thrown it away in front of the man instead. Or spit on it and then dumped it.

  Or you can admit that this man was just being polite and you might be feeling something for him only because your day has been the absolute pits.

  “Well, I hope you get your purse back soon so you’re not forced to eat mashed potatoes with strangers off the interstate again,” Quinn said, stopping outside of the restaurant. The rain had let up and was replaced by a blanket of humidity. It made Nell’s skin sticky and the idea of her car’s AC that much more desirable.

  “And I hope you find someone who doesn’t mind your horrible red flags,” she shot back, trying to stay light despite the butterflies in her stomach still fluttering around. “You know, I mean the whole social media and hating tech thing when I say horrible.”

  Quinn didn’t boom with laughter like he’d done during their meal, but he did give a small chuckle. Now that they were standing, their height difference was as blaring as a freight train’s horn. Nell had to look up to meet his gaze.

  And that gaze appeared completely done with her.

  “Well, goodbye then,” Quinn said without hesitation. “Travel safe.”

  Nell opened and closed her mouth. She’d expected more or, at least, hoped for it.

  This is why you’re done with men, she reminded herself. They’re wild and they make you wild trying to figure them out.

  “You too.”

  She smiled back, ever polite, and just like that they parted ways. Nell settled behind the steering wheel of her seen-better-days Maxima and watched the U-Haul pull away. She waited a while before following suit. The two teens who had recorded her inside the restaurant made it to their much nicer car as she was exiting the lot. Nell had half a mind to roll her window down and tell them they better delete whatever video and pictures they’d taken of her but took a look at the Polaroid still developing in her hand. She decided not to say a word.

  It wa
s time to go home.

  It was time to go back to the real world.

  Plus, how much damage could two teens with smartphones really do?

  …

  Click HERE to keep reading Like a Boss by Anne Harper.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to say thank you to my agent, Jill Marsal, for her constant encouragement. Also a huge thank you to everyone at Entangled, specifically my wonderful editor Stacy! Y’all are pros at handling my endless emails and simply wonderful with your love and dedication for what you do!

  I also want to give shout out to the Bat Signal ladies. Not only are you there when deadlines get intense, you’re there for the triumphs and woes of daily life. This book also is here thanks to the very important role that Dakota Coffee Works of Dothan played in keeping me caffeinated. Large hot mocha with whipped cream became my call sign and you stepped up every time I said it.

  Last but not least, thank you to my husband. You fed me, paid for said coffee, and let me talk to you about what was and wasn’t awkward enough. Thank you for all that you do.

  And then there’s Janie Crouch. I am so sorry for waking you up to babbling. But, at the same time, you’re my co-worker so that’s just something that will be forever.

  About the Author

  Anne Harper writes romantic comedy that embodies the shenanigans of an I Love Lucy episode and the awkwardness of saying “you too” after the waiter tells you to enjoy your meal. She lives in South Alabama with her husband, their three cats, and a humidity that threatens to destroy them all. Anne is an advocate for coffee, selfies, and adoption from foster care. When she isn’t dreaming about meeting her future kiddos, she’s getting herself into wild situations and hilarious misunderstandings. #ItsFine

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