by Taylor Hart
He wouldn’t be able to get those eyes out of his mind for the rest of the night.
Chapter 8
The next morning, Scarlett stood on the deck of her lake house. It was only eight-thirty, but her driver was in the car waiting for her. Her luggage was already packed. After Walker had bolted the night before, she couldn’t get her mind off the man. The way he’d chivalrously taken her, carried her, and run her out of the convention center to his car. The reckless but controlled way he’d driven her home. Then he’d had something, some kind of mental break down, right in front of her eyes. It’d been powerful and terrifying to watch him get out of the car, stumble, and hold to the car like he would fall apart without it.
All she’d been able to do, all she’d wanted in that very intense moment, was to help him. It hadn’t even occurred to her until she’d put her arms around him, trying to hold him, trying to bring him back from wherever he’d gone, that he might not want her to.
There’d been an undeniable connection between them. It had been powerful and real. The incident had tortured her last night after he’d left. She’d done more research, but she hadn’t found much. She’d found several articles about how he’d been dishonorably discharged. She’d dug deeper and found a wedding announcement of a younger version of him to a woman named Laura. Then, she’d seen a clip in the paper about how Laura had been hit by a drunk driver. There were no pictures.
She tried calling Grant, but he hadn’t returned her calls. She knew he was off in Europe somewhere shooting another car film. She found the films tasteless, but she couldn’t deny they were moneymakers.
It was silly, but she’d dreamed of kissing Walker. Those lips had looked so tender, she couldn’t stop thinking about them. Shaking her head, she wondered if she was going crazy. Probably just tired from the treatments, she rationalized. Grant had told her she needed to take a break and let her body recover after the movie. Maybe she should go somewhere after the wedding.
For the moment, she had to face going to California and being humiliated. Worse, her brother and Charlene, his bride, would give her pity. Ack. She didn’t want pity. Taking a breath, she left the porch, shut the sliding doors, and locked them.
The front doorbell sounded in the house like chimes in the wind. Scarlett stiffened in surprise. Of course, she was hardly ever here. The chimes were tucked into her childhood memories of playing at the house with her brother, running through the house, ringing that doorbell, and getting in trouble for doing so. Walking to the front door, she couldn’t stop herself from hoping it might be Walker.
And she wasn’t disappointed. True to bad-boy form, he wore jeans, a black leather jacket, and black flip-flops. He pulled his sunglasses off and narrowed those icy blue eyes at her. His blond hair was longer on top and hung into his eyes. Dang, he was hot. His eyes felt like they were cutting her heart like glass shards. “Hey,” he said casually.
Man, those eyes should be classified as a weapon. Her throat went dry. “Will you come in?”
He paused before nodding. “Yeah, I will.”
The fluttery way her heart pounded made her feel like some teenager with a boy about to ask her to prom. She moved all the way back, and when he stepped in, she got a whiff of that soap smell. What was he doing here?
He walked all the way into the main part of the living room. It connected to the kitchen, the dining room, and the porch. His eyes drank in the view of the lake. “It’s beautiful from up here,” he said a bit breathlessly.
Cautiously, she sidled up next to him, still leaving him space. It felt strange, like she was a realtor showing him the property. “This is one of my favorite views in the house.”
Walker met her eyes. “But it’s not your only house, right?”
She shrugged. “Correct. I have a couple of houses.”
Letting out a breath, he turned slowly in place to take in the house. “This is an impressive mansion.”
As much as she wanted to clarify that this wasn’t a mansion, she didn’t. He wasn’t from her world, and she knew that.
“Yeah.” He walked to the kitchen and looked around, then turned to the sliding doors off the dining room. “May I? I want to see the infamous diving spot.” The side of his lip went up.
Was he teasing her? With a nod, she followed him, nervous butterflies assaulting her. “Sure.”
He unlocked the doors and stepped out to the porch. Reaching the edge of the deck, he turned to her. “So how many years have you been diving off this deck?”
Feeling confused at why he wasn’t just getting to the point, but willing to give a bit of latitude, she went to his side. “Since I was five. My brother and I used to come here to visit my grandmother every summer. Back then, we stayed for weeks at a time, and we loved it. Of course, as children, we got bored. So we started jumping.” She laughed. “I thought grandmother would kill us the first time.”
“Daredevil.” He smiled back at her.
“I don’t see myself that way. Don’t tell, but I routinely use stunt doubles.”
He cocked that sexy eyebrow. “You did it yesterday, all on your own.”
She smiled. “I guess I did.”
For a few moments, both of them just stood there. She didn’t know what was happening, but she could sense he was different today. His energy wasn’t as balled up.
Or maybe she was different. “Are you feeling better?” she asked casually.
Jerking his hand to the bridge of his nose, he let out a sigh. “I guess I am. Truthfully—” He turned to her, his eyes meeting hers again. “—yesterday was different.”
“Yes, to put it mildly.”
He squinted at her. “So do you still want me for your fake fiancé for this whole wedding thing?”
“Yes.” She bit back her excitement, thinking happy thoughts of shoving it in her father’s face, just like Walker had said. “I do.”
He grinned at her. “I’ve decided I’ll do it.”
“You will?” Her heart leapt. “You’ll do it? Be my date for four days at the wedding?”
“Yep.” He frowned. “Starting today, correct?”
“Yes.” She let out a shaky breath, and happiness warmed her from head to toe. She thought of how it would be wonderful to shove Kurt’s and Marissa’s and her father’s faces in it. “Great. Thank you so much.”
Putting up a hand to stop her, he scrunched up his face. “Hold up. There’s something I want. You did say you would compensate me?”
“Of course. How much?” She was willing to pay anything.
“No.” He turned wicked eyes on her. “I don’t want money, per se.” His eyes went back to the lake, and he put out a long, sweeping hand. “I want this.”
That stopped her in her tracks. “What?” He couldn’t mean—
“I want this house. I want to take my rowboat out every day, and I want space. As you pointed out last night, I was trespassing. I don’t want to do that anymore.” He licked his lips and looked at the sunlight glistening on the water. “See, I have money. I got a nice contract with the Titans this year, but you and I both know it’s going to be a long time before I can afford something like this.”
“No.” She said it almost before he’d finished his sentence. “No, my grandmother gave me this house. No way.”
He held her gaze. “Hold up. Just let me ask you a question.”
There was no way she was giving up her grandmother’s house. All the memories. Her grandmother had given it to her. “What?”
“How many days a year do you come here?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not doing this.” She began moving back to the doors.
“A week? A couple of days? In the whole year?” He emphasized the last word.
She stopped and turned back. “So what? This house symbolizes stability and fun and childhood and my grandmother.”
He shrugged. “I would use it, live in it, take care of it.”
“No,” Scarlett breathed, horrified. “No way. No.” She stalked thro
ugh the doors and waited, feeling jittery.
He blew past her, walking swiftly to the front door. “Fine, then. Have a nice life, sweetheart.”
She thought of the humiliation she was about to face. About all of the things she’d thought were certain. Kurt. Marissa. The way her father had always treated her. Her father would probably want to set her up with some man he wanted for her. Obviously, she wouldn’t do it, but she didn’t want to have that fight. Again, her thoughts went back to Kurt. “Fine.” She blurted it out without thinking.
He was almost through the front door when he stopped.
“Fine,” she said again, her heart racing. She loved this house. “On the condition I get to come back whenever I want. That has to be in the contract.”
Walker turned. His eyes swept her from top to bottom, then settled on her face. “Fine, we’ll agree you get a month. That seems like more than you’d need.”
It was true, and it annoyed her that he was holding all of the cards. She was only here a week, if that, per year. “Fine, but you have to do the stupid wedding pictures, and you have to be at the ceremony, and you have to stay for dancing.” She hated the dancing part at weddings; it was always so uncomfortable.
The side of his lip tugged up. “You want me for the dancing?”
“Yes,” she said, exasperated. “And you are involved in all the activities the next couple of days, even crafting.”
He looked puzzled. “Crafting at a wedding?”
“Yeah. The bride wants to personalize the wedding, so we are crafting.” With a huff, she added, “It doesn’t matter. You just have to do it.”
He pinched his lips together. “O-kay.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Both of them stared at each other for a couple of seconds.
Eventually, Walker threw up his hands. “Okay, so let’s talk details. Since I am your fiancé, do we share a room? Do we kiss? Hold hands?” He hesitated.
“Huh?” Her mind spun.
“Kissing, no kissing? Sleeping arrangements?”
“Wait.” She held up a hand. “You’re right; we should probably figure this out.” She sucked in a breath and dropped her hand.
A dashing smile filled his face. “Hey, I’m good with whatever.”
But she wasn’t. “No. I guess since this isn’t a relationship, we put on pretenses in public, but we don’t kiss unnecessarily.” Her heart fluttered and all she could do was think about kissing him.
He smirked and held up his hands in surrender. “Not a problem.”
“Great.”
“Just remember, no unnecessary kissing on your end either.”
Scarlett narrowed her eyes. This guy was as cocky as he was attractive. “I think I can handle it.”
Rummaging in his pocket, he tugged out a ring. “I don’t know if it will fit, but I thought I’d bring it just in case.”
It touched her that he’d thought of it. She gently took the ring between two fingers and peered at it—silver gold with a simple square diamond on top. “It’s beautiful.” She slid it onto her left ring finger. To her amazement, it fit perfectly.
He cleared his throat. “Don’t lose it. It was my mama’s.”
Startled that he’d brought his mother’s ring, she tugged it off. “No, I’ll find something.”
He put his hand over hers, sending a wave of chills up her arm. “Nope. When Mama passed away a couple of months ago, my brothers decided I would get it, but the ironic thing is that I’m never going to use it.”
“But—”
He took the ring out of her hand and put it back on her finger. It felt intimate. “I insist,” he said, and all she knew as she stared up into those ice-blue eyes was that this man was different than she’d ever expected.
Chapter 9
As they headed to the airport, Walker watched the forest near her property go by. He couldn’t believe she’d accepted the deal. Not only that, he couldn’t believe he was going to have the lake house. If only she knew he’d pretty much been squatting there the past year, camping a couple of days a month and rowing to his heart’s content. He’d never imagined the house could be his.
Elation surged through him. He’d tried to call his brother Grant last night and get the four-one-one on Scarlett. After all, he’d been her co-star, and he probably knew her pretty well. The loser wouldn’t answer, so he’d done his own research. You don’t get a “proposition,” whatever that really meant, and not go home and scavenge the Internet for everything on the woman offering you the deal. Since he hadn’t been able to get Grant, he’d called his brother Zane and had him do a background check. It all checked out. Basically, she was just rich, richer, then even richer, to the tune of billions in the Powers Foundation and Trust.
After some serious pondering last night, he’d used her same logic. Why not? She was a billionaire. As he suspected, she was never at this house. So why not him? Why shouldn’t he use the house? He was stuck in Dallas for football. He was grateful, but he needed space. Room to breathe. A place to row. It was a mutually beneficial relationship, after all. So he would deal with all her crap for the next four days. All that crap about her ex and the best friend and the oppressive father and blah blah blah. Rich people problems.
He would do it—for a price.
Good thing he knew that to her, the price wasn’t actually that high. When you dealt with billions, what was fifty million? And it was a house she never used. He could give her a month a year. Would she even use it? He doubted it.
Neither of them spoke as the forest turned to city. Buildings rushed past his window as they turned for the airport. He imagined they’d be taking a private jet. His hands itched to fly something again.
“So you might need to tell me a bit about yourself,” Scarlett said hesitantly.
Right, the get-to-know-you crap. “What do you want to know?”
“You’ve had quite a few relationships over the past year.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, I googled you.”
He let out a light laugh. “A date isn’t a relationship.”
“True,” she said, looking a bit wary.
“The only thing I really promise my date is a good breakfast in the morning.”
A look of distaste crossed her face.
Yes, exactly. She had to know up front that this wasn’t going to be some romance movie like the one she had just starred in with his brother. “Hey, I can serve up whatever they want … eggs, bacon, pancakes.”
Her brow furrowed. “Hmm, you sound like every woman’s dream.”
“Hey, you knew what you were getting into.”
“True,” she conceded.
For a few moments, neither of them spoke.
“You have a nice ‘soldier’ look,” she commented out of the blue.
He scowled. “What?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just the look you were wearing during the auction, the look you go to when you shut down.”
This bothered him. She already thought she could read him.
Scarlett’s face softened with pity. “I saw a story about your wife’s accident. I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” He grimaced. “I don’t talk about it.”
More strained silence. Great, so this was how it would be. He began to wonder if anything was worth having pressure to share his “feelings” with someone for the next four days.
“I need to fill you in on details if we’re going to get through this,” she said, leaning back.
“Fine.”
She started to say something, but then her eyes widened in alarm. “Wait!” she said, leaning up to the driver. “Go back!”
Walker was a bit annoyed. Was she reneging on the deal? “What’s going on?”
“I forgot something.”
The driver turned the car around, and only then did Scarlett sit back. Her hands were clenched, and Walker noticed she looked pale. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She put a hand over her stomach. “I’m fine, I just … I just have bee
n feeling a bit sick today.”
Great. Reflexively, he scooted closer to the door.
Taking a big breath, she let it out slowly. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?” Walker didn’t think she looked okay.
But her face was regaining its color. “Yes.”
They got back to the house. She ran in, then came right back out. She entered the security code on the garage and slipped into the car as the door was closing, holding a bottle of pills. As the driver headed off again, she opened the bottle, popped one into her mouth, and gulped back water. She moved to put the cap back on the pills, but swore when she spilled them.
He bent to help her pick them up, noticing they could be mistaken for horse pills. “Big ones.”
Greedily, she yanked them back from him. “Thank you.” She stuffed them into the bottle and stashed that in her purse. Resting her hand over her chest, she leaned back and closed her eyes.
Man, did the woman have some kind of drug problem? It appeared so. That wasn’t his problem, he told himself. This was just a four-day deal.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said softly.
“Look, you’re thin, in my opinion. Too thin.”
Giving him a look that could kill, she shook her head. “They’re not … diet pills.”
“Then what are they?”
“It’s complicated.” She looked out the window.
Mental issues. Then it all made sense: the oppressive father, the ex, the best friend. Right. She needed to be medicated. “Look, if you need your Valium to deal with family stuff, who am I to judge?” He snorted. “Heck, if anyone knows how much you might need your meds at times, it would be me.”
Instead of commiserating, she glared at him. “My pills are none of your business.”
“Fine. Let’s talk about the issues at hand.”
“Okay.” She looked out of sorts. “Where should we start?”
There would be no point in mentioning he didn’t even want to start. “I guess with the ex.”
She nodded. “I was with Kurt on and off my whole life, and it was a sucker punch when he dumped me a year ago.”