by Cat Carmine
Plus, I’ll admit, part of me likes the idea of spending the week getting fucked by a bad boy bartender when I’m supposed to be on personal leave because of my cheating fiance. There’s something about the karmic retribution aspect of this whole thing that appeals to me.
But … it’s crazy. Reckless. I’ve always been nothing but responsible, and now I’m really thinking of flying off to Chicago with a virtual stranger — one who’s promised to fuck me six ways to Sunday — and help him lie to his family? It’s crazy.
Then again, playing it safe hasn’t exactly been working out that well for me. An ex-fiance, an apartment I can’t afford, and a forced leave from a job I’m not sure I even really like all that much.
I fold my arms, letting Jace sweat for another minute. The grin on his face is just starting to crack when I finally throw my hands up.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
The grin is back, a thousand watts blazing straight at me.
“You’re not going to regret this, Celia. Trust me,” he adds with a wink and I find myself flushing again. God damn.
Then Jace’s face drops. “Shit. I just thought of something.”
“What?” I’m suddenly afraid he’s going to take back his offer, and now that I’m all in, I don’t want that.
“We need a ring. A nice one.”
I grin. “I’ve got this part covered. Wait here.”
I walk into my bedroom, legs still shaking a little. I dig around in my jewelry box until I find it. I stopped wearing it the day Martin and I broke up, and even though I tried giving it back to him, he insisted I keep it. I think it was his way of trying to alleviate some of his guilt. I hadn’t decided what to do with it yet — keep it, pawn it, throw it into the harbor — and so it was still just sitting there, buried in the bottom drawer of my jewelry box where I wouldn’t have to see it often.
I take the ring back into the living room and hand it to Jace.
“Will this do?”
He lets out a low whistle. “That’s quite a rock.” He looks up at me. His eyes narrow a little. “Anything you want to tell me?”
“Nope. Just that this isn’t my first rodeo.”
I hold out my hand and spread my fingers.
Jace takes my hand and slowly, delicately, slides the ring onto my finger. I can’t help the bolt of longing the shoots through me when he does. What kind of fiance would Jace make? Six months ago, I never would have considered him. Sure, I had thought about him in the carnal sense, but when it came to marriage, I wanted a man like Martin — rich, successful, a fast-tracked career. But look where that had gotten me. Jace was the opposite of Martin in every way — and maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.
“Celia,” he says. His voice is deep but hesitant. “Will you … will you do me the honor of being my fake fiancee for a week?”
I quash down the silly sense of longing I feel. Instead I plaster a grin on my face.
“Yes, Jace. A million times yes!” I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tightly. When I start to pull away I realize he’s studying me with an expression I can’t quite read. My arms are still around his neck and our faces are so close that I could lean in and kiss him. I could …
“Mrowr!” My cat’s cranky yowl interrupts us as he brushes up against Jace’s pant leg. Because of course he would choose now to finally make an appearance.
“Hey!” He says, surprised, then chuckles. He leans down to pet him. “I didn’t know you had a cat.”
“Yeah. He’s old though, so he spends most of his time hiding or sleeping. Or sleep hiding. Sometimes I think he just hides and then forgets that he’s hiding and falls asleep.”
Jace grins. “I have a cat too. What’s his name?”
“Steve.”
He stands up, staring at me. “What?”
“Yeah, I know it’s weird.”
“No, seriously? His name’s Steve?”
“Yeah.” He’s giving me the strangest look. I mean, I know it’s not as common of a name as, like, Mittens or Fluffy or whatever, but I wouldn’t have thought it warranted this kind of disbelief.
“Uh, you’re not going to believe this … but my cat is named Steve too.”
“Shut-up.”
“I’m serious!” Jace scoops up Steve and walks over to the couch with him. I’m too surprised to tell him that he’s looking to get his eyes clawed out — Steve is not a cuddler.
“Yeah,” he says, pulling Steve against his chest. “I named him after Steve Buscemi. I loved him in Reservoir Dogs. Plus the cat’s got the same big googly eyes as Steve Buscemi.”
“That’s so weird.” I flop down into the chair I was sitting in earlier, watching Steve curl up under Jace’s chin. “This guy’s named after the Steve Miller Band.”
Jace laughs. “Nice.”
I smile, though there’s a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Yeah, I secretly love them,” I tell him, ignoring the strange longing that’s growing. “I have this fantasy where I have the sort of life where I go to summer barbecues and bonfires and drink light beer and listen to the Steve Miller Band and drive a pick-up truck. Just something … I don’t know, something completely different than the life I have now.”
I shrug, a bit embarrassed. I don’t even know why I’m telling him all this. He’s looking at me with such a strange expression — he probably thinks I’m crazy now.
“Anyway, it’s silly.” I shake my head, laughing.
But Jace is nodding slowly, as if this all makes perfect sense to him. “Well, you’re definitely living in the wrong city if that’s the life you want … unless you plan to toast marshmallows over a trash can fire.”
“Ha. Yeah.” I don’t tell him I’ve thought that on more than one occasion, that I’m in the wrong city. Especially lately.
“Anyway,” I say, scooping Steve up off his chest.
“Right.” Jace stands up and brushes himself off. “I’m flying out on Monday — the wedding is on Saturday but there’s a bunch of stuff happening before that. I’ll book you a ticket?”
“Sounds great.” I try to rest my head on Steve’s, but he’s digging his claws into the back of my shoulder so hard that I have to drop him onto the floor. Traitor.
“Great.”
Jace is still staring at me expectantly, so I stick my hand out straight in front of me.
“I’m looking forward to our arrangement,” I say. He raises his eyebrows but reaches out to shake my hand. Then in one swift motion, he pulls me to him, and cups his other hand against the back of my head.
“As am I.” He leans in and lets his lips graze against mine. It’s enough to send a stream of butterflies coursing through me.
Before I can do anything else, though, he lets me go, and disappears out my apartment door. I stand there breathless, staring at the closed door.
Well.
This should be interesting.
7
Jace
While I’m on the plane I try to think back to the last time I was in Chicago. I’ve been in New York for almost ten years now, and I’m pretty sure I’ve only been home once in that whole time. I’ve seen Luke and Trent a couple of times when they’ve been in the city for business, and Mom had flown out once a few years ago to visit. But overall our visits have been few and far between.
The closer we get to O’Hare, the more apprehensive I get about this whole thing. Seeing them all again is hard enough, but to try to live out this lie with Celia is worse.
Celia. Just thinking her name gives me an instant shot of adrenalin. I still can’t believe I convinced this gorgeous creature to pretend she was marrying my sorry ass. To be honest, I’m not even sure I’m going to be able to get anyone to buy it — she’s so far out of my league that it’s like trying to convince people that the princess really wanted to marry the pauper. I can only hope they’ll all be too distracted with Trent’s wedding to pay much attention to my own supposed upcoming nuptials.
The plane touches down at
O’Hare and I wait while the slowest people on the entire planet all start unloading their bags and jackets from the overhead compartments. I try to keep my impatience to myself but by the time I finally get around to deplaning I’m edgy with irritation.
I enter the airport and make my way to the baggage claim, where I have another wait, and more time to psych myself out.
By the time I head into the arrivals pick-up area, I’ve half convinced myself I should just get on the next flight back to New York.
“Jace!”
The voice is like a punch to the gut. I spin around.
“Luke!” My brother is standing in front of me, grinning. There’s a moment of hesitation, and then he opens his arms and wraps me in a bear hug.
“It’s good to see you, man,” he says, clapping me on the back.
“You too,” I say, squeezing him back. I’m surprised to find that I mean it.
“Where’s your better half?” he asks, looking around for Celia.
“She had a few things to wrap up in the city — she’s flying out tomorrow.”
“Sure,” Luke grins. “I’m starting to think you might have just made her up. Come on.”
If only he knew.
We head outside, where Luke’s SUV is parked, and climb in.
“Everyone’s hanging out at my place this afternoon,” he says as he pulls out of the airport’s labyrinthine complex. “Trent’s there with Hannah now, and Mom’s going to come by tonight. She wanted to come with me today but they needed her down at the home.”
“The home?”
“Oh, sorry. The Chalmers Retirement Home. She volunteers there now. A lot. She says the people there make her feel young.”
“Ha.”
Luke glances over at me. “She’s glad you’re here.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“It’s hard for her, you know.”
He’s watching the road now, but I can feel the loadedness in his words. But he’s not telling me anything I don’t already know.
“Yeah,” I say. I clear my throat. “I’m here now though.”
“Yeah.” Luke’s face lightens. “And that’s great. Trent’s thrilled too.”
“I can’t wait to meet Hannah,” I say, trying to change the subject.
“You’ll love her,” Luke swears. “She’s a doll.”
Knowing Trent, probably a Barbie Doll, and with about the same amount of brains. My brother’s tastes are nothing if not predictable.
Luke’s place is about an hour outside of Chicago proper, and we manage to keep up a steady stream of conversation while he drives. For all his success, Luke is still pretty down to earth — he’s even still wearing the same plaid shirts. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear this is one of the actual shirts he owned last time I saw him.
By the time we get to his house, I’m actually feeling more relaxed. When we pull up in front of a Luke’s place, I let out a low whistle.
Luke grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should. Wow.” Makes me glad I never invited Trent or Luke back to my shithole apartment in New York. This place is practically an estate. It looks like it was once a farmhouse, but it’s been restored to within an inch of its life, and the grounds are massive and perfectly manicured.
I grab my bags out of the back and follow Luke up the steps to the huge wraparound porch. Before we even reach the front door, it’s swinging open and Trent saunters out.
“There’s the man of the hour,” he says, then pauses. “Oh, wait, that’s me.” He flashes me a grin as I drop my bags and then he embraces me in a hug.
“Just an hour?” I tease. “I’m surprised you haven’t claimed the whole fucking year yet.”
“I’m waiting for Time Magazine to do that for me.”
“Keep dreaming,” Luke snorts.
The three of us are laughing, and I stand there on Luke’s porch looking back and forth between them. My brothers.
“Luke, where do you keep your sugar?”
A woman’s voice comes from inside the house and then she steps out on to the porch with us.
“Oh!” She says when she sees me. “I didn’t realize you were here. You must be Jace.” She wipes her hands off on her sundress and wraps me in a hug.
I hug her back even though I have no clue who she is. She’s petite, with long chestnut-colored hair that falls in waves over her shoulders. She’s cute, in a Wisconsin dairy farm sort of way.
When she pulls away she turns back to Luke. “Sugar?”
“You don’t think I’m sweet enough?”
“Luke.” She puts her hands on her hips, pretending to be stern with him.
“Hannah,” he mimics, putting his hands on his own hips and grinning. “It’s in the cupboard right above where the cutting boards are stacked.”
“See, now was that so hard?” She twists a smile at him.
I’m not listening anymore though. That’s Hannah? When I found out Trent was getting married, I had pictured a tall, regal-looking blonde, someone more like the women Trent has always gone for in the past.
Hannah is … nothing like that. She’s cute and seems sweet and the way she’s gazing up at him right now with the softest smile is enough to know she’s head over heels for the guy.
And judging by how he leans in to kiss her, he feels exactly the same way.
Huh. What do you know? Maybe there’s more to my brother than I thought.
“Do you want a beer?” Luke asks, turning to me.
I realize I would love one. “A beer sounds great, actually.”
We wander into the house and Luke opens the cupboard first, passing Hannah a bag of sugar before going to the fridge and taking out four bottles of beer.
“Lakehouse,” he says grinning and showing off the label.
“God, haven’t had that stuff in years.”
“Figured you’d enjoy the trip down memory lane.” He twists the cap off and hands me the beer. His expression turns concerned. “Wait, did I do that right?”
I take the beer from him and frown. “Do what right?”
“Serve you the beer. I mean, I’m in the presence of a master bartender right now, aren’t I? I don’t know how the pros do it.”
I take a sip of my beer. I could get surly — it’s no secret my bartending job isn’t good enough for this family. Or I could just let it go, get through this week without picking a fight over dumb shit like this.
I swallow another mouthful and then pull the bottle away from my lips. “You did all right,” I say. “But no way you’re getting tips with a face like that. The best you could hope for is a few pity tips.”
Luke’s mouth gapes while Trent snorts into his bottle. “He’s got you there, Luke. You don’t have a face for bartending. Or for much at all, really.”
It’s a lie, of course — the three of us look incredibly alike, except that I’ve got blue eyes to their brown. But it’s still satisfying to rib Luke, especially because he’s always been the most antagonistic one out of all of us.
“You boys play nice,” Hannah says, measuring a heap of sugar into a cup and then dumping it into a bowl. “Or I’m going to have to tell your mother, and then you’ll all be in for it.”
Trent shrugs at Luke and I. “What can I say? You don’t mess with a woman on her wedding week.”
Hannah grins as she dumps the sugar into a big bowl and grabs a wooden spoon off the counter.
“That’s right.” She points the spoon at Luke and me. “Let that be a lesson to you all.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Luke says, giving her a mock salute.
Trent gets up to toss his beer cap in the trash and runs his hand along Hannah’s arm as he passes behind her. She turns to him and stands up on her tip toes so that she can kiss his lips. Luke and I both look away, smiling.
“Okay, lovebirds,” Luke says, after it’s been a minute and the kiss is starting to verge on something inappropriate for company.
“Sorry,” Trent grins, t
urning back to us. He glances back at Hannah. “Actually, I’m not sorry at all.”
“Hey,” I say. “You don’t have to be sorry. Just maybe let’s make this a no-tongue zone, okay?”
Hannah laughs, covering her mouth and blushing, while Luke clinks my bottle with his.
“Yes,” he says decisively. “This is my house and I declare this kitchen a no-tongue zone.”
“Fine,” Trent says, glaring at me. “But that’s going to apply to you too.”
“And who exactly would I even be tonguing?”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize my mistake. Trent raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his beer.
“I mean, Celia and I actually know how to behave in public. Unlike some people.” I swallow a mouthful of beer and shake my head teasingly at Trent.
“Don’t let them get to you, honey,” Hannah says, ruffling his hair as she crosses behind him to get to the fridge. “They’re just jealous.”
“Damn right they are.”
The rest of the afternoon passes basically the same way. We clean out most of the Lakehouse Lager from Luke’s fridge and eventually end up out in the back yard, where Luke somewhat drunkenly grills us all up some burgers. It feels surprisingly good to be hanging out with them again. Even the ribbing doesn’t seem to get to me the way it usually does.
When I see everyone is getting low on drinks, I offer to head back into the house and grab a fresh round. I make my way to the kitchen and I’m just rummaging through the fridge when I hear someone behind me.
I pull another beer out and turn around.
“Hey,” Trent says. He shoves one hand into his pocket. “You got a sec?”
“Sure.” He looks a bit nervous, and my mind is already racing, wondering what’s up.
“I wanted to ask if you’d be a groomsmen at the wedding. I know it’s last minute, but I wasn’t sure you were actually going to come and …” He pauses and takes a breath. “It would mean a lot to me to have both you and Luke standing up there with me.”
I’m floored. Trent mistakes my speechlessness for hesitation.