Prince's Secret Baby

by Riley Rollins

  Wilkinson takes the mic again. "I hope everyone enjoyed dessert. First of all, I'd like to thank everyone for coming out tonight. And special thanks to all three of our presenters tonight."

  Tess grabs my hand and squeezes it, and again, it's like a lightning rod that connects straight to my cock. "You got this," I tell her. As much as I want to fuck that tight body of hers, I'm actually real happy for her right now.

  "It was a difficult decision, and a quick process," says Wilkinson, "but we believe we've made the best decision possible. Congratulations to Ted Frazier—Maple Ridge is going to have a new hardware store!"

  I blink. Unenthusiastic applause crawls around the room. Oscar angrily stabs his fork through his Styrofoam plate, and it sticks up like a tombstone monument to the diner that's not to be.

  "Damn," says Eddie, as chatter breaks out around the room. "That's a tough break."

  I put a hand on Tess's shoulder, and give her a squeeze. She's a little glassy-eyed but she holds it together, and I'm proud of her for that.

  After the awards ceremony, Tess graciously shakes hands with Ted and congratulates him on his new opportunity. I do the same, but I know that his hardware store won't be long for this world. Nor will it make a dent in the town's economy. What a fucking waste. Nobody in their right mind could have chosen to invest in that idea, especially after Tess's presentation. Eddie and Oscar are onto something when they say the mayor is corrupt. Something doesn't add up. But what can you fucking do.

  Eddie takes off with his wife and kid, who's up way past her bedtime and getting cranky. "You're a saint, man," I tell him. "Somebody's got to continue the human population."

  Tess and I stay late, helping with the clean-up. Tess always took things like this hard, but she's staying positive. "At least I tried, right?" she asks, scraping leftover casserole out of a glass dish and into the trash. "Now I don't have to wonder anymore."

  "Listen," I say, shoving stacks of dirty paper plates into the garbage, "It's not like this was your only chance to open your business. Fuck those idiots. Find someone else."

  "I agree," says a voice behind me, and I turn around to see Mr. Clint Roberts from the Maple Ridge Credit Union.

  I wipe my hands off on my jeans and extend a hand to him. He looks uneasy. "I'm good," he says, peering at the trash I'm in the middle of cleaning up. Then I remember the hand sanitizer incident in his office.

  "So how about that?" I ask, putting my hand back down. "A new hardware store. Exactly what this sleepy little town needs, right?"

  "Yeah," he says, "I don't see it lasting long. Her idea would do a lot more to get some spending happening in this town."

  "Thanks," says Tess, looking up from tying shut a huge 55-gallon trash bag. "I thought so too."

  "I wanted to tell you," says Mr. Roberts, "I was impressed by your presentation and tenacity, Tess." He turns to me. "I was also impressed by your honesty the other day. It's not often someone voluntarily pays off an eight-year-old delinquent debt." Tess peers at me questioningly, out of the loop.

  "You know, it's tough to give out good business loans these days, especially in Maple Ridge. Most of the credit union's lending goes toward new developments in Springville these days. That's where all the action is. But you two should come by this week. I might have a program that can help you out."

  Tess perks up for the first time since getting the bad news. "Really?"

  "Really," says Mr. Roberts, smiling. "No promises, but I'll see what I can do."

  "We appreciate that," I say, and automatically extend my arm again for a handshake, not thinking.

  Mr. Roberts almost takes it, but then brushes his hand through his hair in an awkward last-minute deflection. He takes a bottle of hand sanitizer out of his pocket and squirts some on his hands, then rubs them together. I cock an eyebrow. We didn't even shake hands this time. What the fuck?

  "You two have a good night, and hope to see you this week."

  After he leaves, Tess leans in. "What was that about?"

  I shake my head. "No idea. Dude's a total germaphobe."

  Tess gives me a look. I just shrug.

  Tess and I walk back toward her apartment after finishing clean-up at the potluck. It's dark out, like that night eight years ago. The crisp night air bites at my ears, but compared to the frigid desert nights in the Middle East, it's nothing.

  "Tess," I say, "You did good back there. Proud of you." I wouldn't normally get soft like this, but I don't feel like busting her balls right now.

  Shit. Ever since I first laid eyes on her, I haven't stopped thinking about tasting that sweet pussy of hers. But am I starting to let her get under my skin? Like, for real?

  Nah. I can keep shit straight in my own mind. A little of that tight pussy would be just that, some of the best pussy I've had. That's not the same shit as feelings.

  "Thanks," she says, and the back of her hand brushes against mine in the dark. I don't know if she did it on purpose. Neither one of us acknowledge it.

  "I was thinking," I say, "What happens ten years down the road, or fifteen?"

  "What do you mean, between us?"

  My face scrunches up, and I'm not sure what the hell she means. It's a good thing it's dark out so she can't see me roll my eyes at her. "No, dummy," I say, "I mean, what happens to Maple Ridge."

  "It keeps getting smaller and smaller."

  "Yeah," I say. "You see how many old folks there were tonight?"

  "A lot."

  "Yeah. And young folks?"

  "Hardly any."

  "Yeah." We keep walking in silence, our heels the only sounds except for the crickets. "So that's what I mean. The population is shrinking. Your idea for a diner sounds good at first. But I'm thinking it's too old-school."

  "Maybe," says Tess thoughtfully. "Maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree. Maybe I should get out of here, and go to Springville like everybody else. Just open a crepe shop at the Springville Tech campus, or something."

  "Or, make something that attracts new people to Maple Ridge. Younger folks."

  "That's a tall order, Hunter. It's not like I can single-handedly save this town."

  We take a few steps in silence. I shrug. "You can try."

  "So, like, something catchy that young people like."

  "Yeah."

  "What do young people even like these days?" she asks.

  "One of my Navy buddies told me about this shit he saw online. Rainbow bagels."

  "What's a rainbow bagel?"

  "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 gestu
re 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 restaurant. "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."