Love Happens

by Claudia Burgoa

  MIA

  $43 in tips tonight, and ten of them came from Mr. Pretend-to-Be-My-Girlfriend. Ugh. At this rate, I’ll be eating Ramen for a month just to afford rent, never mind the repairs to my piece of junk car.

  “You almost done out there, Mia?” Diego calls from the kitchen, where he wipes down the grill.

  “Yep. Just need to mop.” And to try reaching my roommate, Beth, for the tenth time. She promised she’d pick me up tonight since I’m without wheels, but so far she hasn’t picked up her phone.

  “Alrighty. I’ve got about five minutes left and then I’m blowing this pop stand.”

  Which means I’m either walking home or throwing that mop around like a hockey stick. Since it’s bear season, there really isn’t but one option. “Mind if I bum a ride again, D?”

  “Car still on the fritz?”

  “Yep, though I finally got it to the shop. Crossing my fingers it isn’t the transmission.”

  “Ouch.” Diego hisses. “Better cross mine for you too.”

  And maybe his toes, because if my auto repair bill is more than five hundred bucks, I’ll have to borrow from my parents. Twenty-five-years-old and still calling home to Mommy and Daddy. Gah. I’d rather spend four days with a family I don’t even know.

  Diego and I lock up the diner a few minutes later, and he drives me to my rental on the outskirts of town. The house itself is a big, white monstrosity, but it’s broken into four apartments. Mine is a two-bedroom on the second floor and my sore feet already dread the stairs. With any luck, Beth’s in bed, so I can take as long as I want, soaking in the tub.

  “Looks dark up there.” Diego nods to my living room window overlooking the street. “You want me to wait ’til you get inside?”

  “Nah, I have my phone. Thanks, though.” I tuck five bucks for gas into his console and hurry out of the car before he can argue.

  “Mia!” he grumbles, but I just wave over my shoulder and head toward the house. Diego’s been my taxi several times this past week, which I know isn’t convenient since he has a family waiting on him at home and my place is a good five miles out of his way.

  Despite his obligations at home, he waits until I’m inside the building before pulling away. I make a mental note to bring him cookies next time we work together, as I begrudgingly climb the stairs and curse my aching feet.

  Oddly enough, the door to my apartment is locked, which probably means Beth has company. Guess that explains why she didn’t answer my calls or texts.

  “Please just let them be quiet,” I mutter under my breath as I let myself inside the darkened entryway and blindly toss my purse onto the side table.

  Thump. The bag hits the linoleum floor a few feet away and I roll my eyes while I fumble for the light switch. Maybe I should skip the bath and go straight to—

  “What the hell?” Where did the entryway table go? And the mirror that hung above it too.

  An uneasy feeling begins to whirl in my stomach as I make my way down the hall to the living room. My couch and chair are where they’ve always been, but Beth’s TV and coffee table are also gone.

  Granted, Beth and I are more roommates-for-convenience than we are close friends, but something tells me that she left out a very important detail about her plans for this evening when I’d asked her for a ride.

  Baffled, I pull out my phone, intent on demanding an answer when I see a new text from the devil herself.

  Last minute change of plans. I’m moving back home. Sorry.

  Sorry? That’s it? She up and leaves without any notice and all she can say is ‘sorry’?

  What am I going to do now? How the hell am I going to pay rent next week?

  I grip the edge of the couch, torn between calling to give her hell and running to the bathroom to throw up.

  Then I remember Luke’s offer.

  One thousand dollars to be his fake girlfriend.

  For four days.

  One weekend of my life.

  With a guy who’s actually kind of cute.

  Okay, fine. Luke is hot, but his gorgeous brown eyes and adorable dimples have absolutely no bearing on any decision I might make.

  Ugh. I’d already made my decision at the diner. No way am I going to be anyone’s pretend anything.

  But my morals won’t pay the rent, now will they?

  MIA

  I’m usually the girl who insists on going Dutch for the first date. It isn’t that I feel the need to assert my independence or make a feminist statement. I just hate feeling like I’m indebted to anyone.

  Unfortunately, my rent and auto repairs are debts I can’t avoid. That’s why I’m currently sitting on my suitcase outside of my house, waiting for Luke.

  He hadn’t asked any questions when I called him two nights ago to bargain. Fifteen hundred for the weekend or it wasn’t happening. He accepted without hesitation and here I am, trying to convince myself that spending four days with him in Chicago will be a piece of cake. Not only does he tip well and have a nice smile, but he holds the door open for other customers too. Rapists and murders don’t do that, right?

  Sucking in a deep breath, I send a quick text to Dani, a friend and coworker from the diner. She’s one of the only waitresses who doesn’t drool all over Luke, so it’s no surprise that she was also suspicious as hell when I told her about his offer … and my desperate agreement.

  Mia: His number is 810–555–4682. Family’s address is 214 N. Waukegan Rd. in Lake Forest.

  Dani: Already programmed the Lake Forest PD into my phone. Don’t trust this guy.

  Mia: Not helping my nerves.

  Dani: Good. You get comfy and boom … your brain ends up in a jar in the fridge!

  Mia: Gross!

  Dani: Reality!

  I laugh and tuck away my phone. I’m really not worried that Luke is some closet crazy person. If anything, I’m concerned about fulfilling my end of this deal. Aside from putting on a show for his mother, I literally have no idea what he expects from me. Affectionate interaction is a given, but to what extent? Holding hands? Stolen kisses? Sharing a hotel room?

  I press a hand to my whirling stomach when a dark gray Jeep Cherokee rounds the corner and slows to a stop in the gravel before me.

  “Hey, pretty girl. Need a ride?” Luke grins from the driver’s window, the September sunshine reflecting off of his sunglasses.

  “Har har.” I roll my eyes and get to my feet, hoping that my cropped jeans, tank top, and short coral cardigan aren’t too informal. Luke told me to dress casual—that his family wasn’t that uppity—but this whole ordeal has me feeling out of sorts. And we aren’t even on the road yet.

  “Let me get that.” Luke slides out from behind the wheel and grabs my suitcase before he heads to the back of the SUV. I follow behind with a garment bag holding two dresses, at least one of which I hope will be formal enough for a Chicago wedding.

  When my things are stowed away, Luke turns to me with another killer grin and my stomach does that strange whirling thing it likes to do whenever he comes into the diner. Probably because he smells like a million bucks and today, without the smell of greasy food in the air, that deliciousness is extra potent.

  “I promise I don’t bite, Amelia—”

  “Mia.” I shield the sun from my eyes with my hand. “Amelia was my grandmother and, while I’m honored to be named after her, I’d much rather you call me Mia.”

  His slips his sunglasses off and his dark gaze sparkles down at me. He’s not that much taller than I am, but standing this close, I’m suddenly aware of him in a way I’ve never been before. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.

  “Mia.” He says my name softly, then nods. “You’re definitely a Mia. I like it. A lot.”

  And I like the way he says it, but that’s probably because I’m getting high off of his cologne.

  “You smell good,” I blurt out and his dimples pop with amusement. “What are you wearing?”

  “Jeans and a T-shirt.”

  “No, I
mean—”

  “Eau de Luke, I guess.” He shrugs and I suddenly wish the Earth would open up and swallow me whole. Again, we haven’t even left Brighton and I’m a wreck. Just remember the rent, Mia. And you’ll be able to afford mac and cheese instead of just Ramen. Score!

  “Okay, you know what? Can we just start over?” I ask and he chuckles.

  “You have nothing to be nervous about. I promise.”

  “But I do. We do.” I only know his last name and that he’s a software developer because of his business card. I also know he likes to waterski, fish, and go camping because Dani creeped on his Facebook profile and sent me the Cliff Notes on how he spent his summer. “We know nothing about each other. Aren’t you the slightest bit worried about pulling this off?”

  He lifts a shoulder again. “I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants guy most of the time, so no, I’m not that worried. And now you know something about me.”

  Ugh. “Do you even like me?”

  His eyes go wide and for a second I contemplate making a mad dash to the safer, less humiliating confines of my apartment. Then I remember that, come Monday afternoon, I’ll have that auto bill to pay off, so I stay put.

  “I like you, Mia.” He takes a step forward and then another until we’re almost touching. “I wouldn’t have asked you to do this if I didn’t.”

  “But what if we have no chemistry?” Oh, my God, did I just whisper?

  One corner of his mouth hitches and I swallow hard. Yep. I whispered. Pretty sure I’m blushing, too, so what the hell? Might as well go all in.

  “You should kiss me,” I exhale like a breathless hussy standing right there in my driveway at nine o’clock in the morning.

  “Yeah?” His fingers come up to the side of my face while his thumb brushes across my lower lip.

  “Just to be sure. You know, in case.”

  “Uh huh.” He leans in and I hold my breath. Please let there be sparks. Please, please, please.

  The moment his lips brush across mine, all sensible thought disappears. His kiss … God, it’s perfect. Not hard, not soft. Not timid or forced. Just … Luke. Sweet and full and perfect.

  I toe up to meet him and somehow my arms end up around his neck while his slide into my hair. I moan and he grunts, and then suddenly I feel the warmth of his Jeep against my back.

  Sparks? Try fireworks. And we’re two months past the Fourth of July.

  LUKE

  Chemistry isn’t going to be a problem. A half-hour into our road trip, and I can’t stop stealing glances at Mia sitting in my passenger seat. I swear to God her cheeks are still flushed from that kiss—no, that make-out session in her driveway. She tries to act tough, like it was no big deal, but that color gives her away.

  “So, I think we stick with as much of the truth as we can. We’ll tell them that we met at the diner and I immediately fell in love with your smile.”

  Mia scrunches up her nose. “You think they’ll be okay with you dating a waitress?”

  “I don’t care what they think.”

  “Bullshit!” Laughing, she chucks a balled up Starburst wrapper at my head. “If you didn’t care, you’d be going to this wedding alone.”

  She’s got me there, but I don’t want her to feel like she can’t be herself this weekend. Reaching across the console, I grab her hand.

  “That’s different. That’s about me settling down, not who I settle down with.” Without thinking, I bring her knuckles to my lips. The second my skin touches hers, she sucks in a breath.

  “So, we’ve been dating for, what? Two months?”

  “Three.”

  “Okay. And what do we do when we go out?”

  “I don’t know. What’s your favorite hobby?”

  “Sleeping.” She shakes her hand loose from mine to eat another piece of candy and I snort.

  “So, we’re sleeping together. Sounds good to me.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her cheeks flare a little pinker, but she doesn’t object. “Well, we’re both young and of a certain age, so probably, though I don’t think we need to have a conversation about our fake sex life with your family.”

  “My mom does write romance novels, you know.”

  “What?” She shoots me a wide-eyed glare. “You never mentioned that before.”

  “No? Huh.” Flicking my directional, I change lanes and give Mia a moment to chew on my confession. My mother’s name has been on several best sellers lists—or so she tells me—and most of the girls I date eventually figure out we’re related, even if I don’t volunteer the information myself. Somehow I don’t see Mia fawning all over my semi-famous bloodline and I’m not going to lie—I can’t wait to see how my mother deals with that.

  “Does she have a pen name?”

  “No.”

  Eyes narrowed, she studies me for a minute. “Tell me your mother isn’t Cecilia Donovan.”

  “And if I said she was?”

  She bursts into a fit of giggles that shakes my whole Jeep. “Oh, you poor thing. I can only imagine how many women have thrown themselves at you after realizing who spawn you. As if being Cecilia Donovan’s son by default gives you some kind of heroic super penis.”

  And this is why I needed a girl like Mia by my side this weekend.

  “Are you mocking my super penis? Because I’m pretty sure no one will believe that we’ve slept together if you’re anything less than entranced by my mighty sword of a cock.”

  “Bahaha!” For a solid minute, she rolls with laughter to the point I’m not sure she’s even breathing. “Oh, Luke. I’ve fake fawned over my fair share of mighty swords before. I’m sure I can make yours sound like the freaking Excalibur.”

  I grin, though I really don’t want to think about her fawning—pretend or otherwise—over another guy’s sword. When we stop for lunch in Indiana, I can’t resist stealing another kiss.

  “What was that for?” Mia murmurs, her fingers pressed to her lips when we break apart just outside the entrance to the restaurant. She’s flushed again and that sight relieves my pounding heart. Either I’m more nervous about pulling off this stunt than I thought I was, or there’s a little something real in the way Mia kisses me. Something I like a little more than I should.

  “Just practicing.” I wink and lead her inside. We place our orders and continue to fine-tune the details of our relationship, which goes much smoother than I expected. Most everything we plan to share with my family is a variation of the truth—only stretched a bit—and it doesn’t take long to realize that Mia and I actually know more about each other than we thought. Who knew that idle chit chat over diner meatloaf could be so revealing?

  “You must make a habit of eavesdropping on my conversations with my coworkers,” she teases me from behind her glass of Coke. “I’m pretty sure I never told you that I have a brother.”

  “He was in the diner one day and you hugged him goodbye. I asked another waitress if he was your boyfriend.”

  “Oh, really?” She tips her head to the side and her ponytail falls off her shoulder. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Honestly?”

  She nods and I lean back in the booth, contemplating whether or not I should be honest. We’re only two hours into the trip and I don’t want to freak her out.

  But those kisses… .

  “You spent a lot of time with him,” I admit, hoping my lips read hers the right way. “Maybe I was a jealous.”

  “That I filled his tea more than I did yours?”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Her sweet laughter tugs at the tendons of awareness in my gut. I didn’t ask her to come along this weekend because she was a convenient option. She’s anything but, and that means I’ve lied about my intentions. To her and to myself.

  “It’s okay,” she says quietly, looking up at me from beneath her eyelashes. “I would have never agreed to do this if I didn’t like you at least a little bit, too.”

  “I thought you had bills to pay.” I reac
h for her hand across the table and she lets me tangle our fingers together without hesitation.

  “I do, but don’t think for a second that I take up every Tom, Dick, and Harry on their offers in order to get by. I’m not that kind of girl.”

  Thank God. “You get lots of hairy dicks making offers?”

  “Oh, my God.” She bites her lips together and looks down as our waitress sets the ketchup and mustard in the middle of the table, one eyebrow raised.

  “Answer the question,” I prod when we’re alone again. I never considered the other customers—the other men—she must deal with on a regular basis. Surely, I’m not the only guy who comes in because the scenery is nice.

  “Luke …” She shakes her head and I frown. What if the propositions she gets aren’t as well intended as mine? Or worse—what if they’re exactly like mine?

  “I’ve never even given a customer my number before.” Her fingers tighten around mine and her eyes sparkle with a gleam I’d like to think she’s selective with, as well. “You have my number and you know where I live.”

  “Don’t forget about the kisses.”

  “Oh, trust me …” She winks one of those pretty eyes. “There’s no forgetting those.”

  LUKE

  We pull up to my parent’s house on Waukegan and I’m still thinking about the sweet taste of her lips. I cut the engine but don’t make a move to exit the Jeep.

  This is it.

  No turning back now.

  The drive here was very interesting, to say the least. I feel good we were able to iron out our stories, because I know for a fact Mom and Grace are going to smother us with questions about our relationship the minute we walk through the door. If we show any sign of unease, my mother is going to zero in on that and read us like a badly written romance novel.

  The few kisses we’ve shared left no room for doubt that we have freaking amazing chemistry and, right now, before I lead her through that door to face my family’s scrutiny, I need a reminder of how good we can be together. How good we already are.

  I turn my attention back to Mia and find her staring up at me with big, soulful eyes. Eyes that offer reassurance despite blindly following me into the dark depths of the unknown. I sincerely hope I’m not leading her into something she’ll never be able to forgive me for.