by T. S. Joyce
She giggled and took another bite.
“I should probably know some shit about you before we go to the family party tonight.”
“Oh, yeah, you should. Okay, favorite color is burgundy, favorite holiday is Thanksgiving—”
“Why?”
“Because all you do is eat. I have a pet cat named Turtle, but she’s wild and only comes around because I feed her. She’s never actually let me pet her, and I think she might hate me because she hisses at me when I say, ‘Here turtle, turtle, turtle.’”
“Because you gave her a shitty name.”
“I have three sisters, all married. You’ll meet their perfect lawyer, doctor, and stock investor husbands tonight. Favorite liquor is vodka, favorite movies are romantic comedies, I like bright colors, and I’m in my mid-thirties and still don’t know what to do with my curls.” She pointed her finger to the floofy ball of hair on top of her head. “My family always jokes my real father is the milkman. No one else has these staggeringly superior genetics.”
He gulped a bite down and said, “Let me see your hair down.”
She yanked out the hair tie, then struck a few poses so he could see all angles of the mess.
“You have Rockstar hair. It’s fucking awesome.”
“I think this is the best way to meet.”
He took a drink of his water and asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you see me in my pajamas, not ready for the day, no makeup on, my hair a mess, and zero percent of my shit together. I’ve set the bar very low, so if I, say, put some makeup on…or some real clothes…your opinion of me has nowhere to go but up.”
“You look fine without makeup on.”
“Really?”
Kieran shrugged his shoulders and crumbled up his wrappers, cleaning up. “Doesn’t matter to me either way if you fix yourself up or not. This is all pretend.”
Oh. Why did that sting?
He cast her a quick glance, but his eyes were troubled. Or perhaps angry? She didn’t understand. He stood and gave her his back, locked his arms against the desk, and wrote something into a logbook.
She wasn’t hungry anymore, so she re-wrapped her second burrito for later and made her way to the mini-fridge.
“Nooo,” he murmured.
“Are we not allowed to put food in the fridge?” she asked, confused.
He was staring out the window, though, and his triceps and back muscles were all flexing out of his tight shirt.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He inhaled deeply and then stood and gestured to the door. “Your dad’s here.”
The door opened, and in walked Dad. He was a big man, wider than the door so had to step sideways through it. His face morphed to one of shock. “Leslie? What are you doing here?” His eyes darted to Kieran and back again, and then he asked louder. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s bring your girlfriend to work daaaaay,” she sang softly, complete with a little dance.
“Explain,” he drawled out slowly. Whoo, Dad’s face was getting really red.
“Meet my boyfriend. Kieran.”
“Yes,” Kieran said low. “I am your daughter’s boyfriend now, sir.”
“You’re the one the family is going on about?” he asked. Okay, Dad’s voice was way scarier when it was all quiet and slow like this.
“That would apparently be me.” Kieran cleared his throat. “I brought Leslie up here to see what I do for work.”
“I asked him to bring me. Imagine my surprise when I figured out you’re his boss! But you’re a lot of people’s boss. How’s Mom? How’s the faaaaamily.”
“Can you give us a minute, baby?” he asked.
“Dad, I don’t think—”
“Now.”
Leslie stomped her foot. “No.”
Dad’s bushy gray eyebrows raised to his hairline in slow motion. “Pardon me?”
“You don’t get to excuse me after I hit my thirties. It’s against the parent-daughter rules. I’m grown. Whatever you have to say to Kieran, you can say in front of me.”
“Fine.” Dad looked at Kieran. “You’re fired.”
“Dad!”
“You don’t think this is suspicious,” Dad belted out. “He’s up for a promotion, and suddenly he starts dating my daughter?”
“Uh, first off, I didn’t know I was up for a promotion,” Kieran said. “And second, me dating your daughter has nothing to do with you or my position at this company. Keep your promotion. I’m happy with my job, sir.”
Dad looked back and forth between her and Kieran. “Your mother is going to have a meltdown. A meltdown, Leslie. It’s all I can do to get her through the holidays sane, and you’re bringing him to the party tonight. All eyes will be on the two of you, and I know Kieran. He’s a roughneck.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior tonight, sir.”
“Enough! Leslie, I don’t understand you. You’re pretty enough. You have family money—”
“I don’t want your money.”
“But you have it! Your name alone will get you a good man.”
“Kieran is a good man! I’m curious, Dad… What in your mind constitutes a good man?”
“One who can provide for you! One who has a name that is worthy of you giving up yours for.”
“I like his last name!” She didn’t even know his last name, but it was probably awesome. “And money doesn’t a happy life make! He brought me coffee this morning without me asking, and he brought me to his job when I asked, knowing his co-workers would tease him, and he gave me his jacket when I got cold, and he bought me lunch when I was hungry, and he makes me laugh. He makes me try to suck less at life, so I’m good. I’m good with my choice for the holidays.”
“Leslie, think of your family.”
“Or she can think of herself and her own happiness,” Kieran murmured.
And when she looked over at him, he was standing tall, arms crossed over his chest, head canted and eyes blazing gold. “You said you don’t understand her, and I think you’re right. She offered me an invite to the party tonight. We’re just getting to know each other, but from what I can tell, she’s warm, funny, quirky, and clumsy, but in a cute way. She’s fiercely independent, and as a father, you should be proud of that. You raised a girl that isn’t looking for a man to take care of her. You raised a girl who is happy to take care of herself.”
Dad scoffed. “She works in a pottery shop and lives in a shack behind it.”
“It’s a nice shack, though. Wood floors and all. Now, I have another run to do up on the mountain, and I was going to invite your daughter for the second half of the day because she seems interested in one of the businesses you run.”
“She has sap and cuts on her hands.”
Leslie clenched her hands and slid them behind her back. “I was helping.”
“Why can’t you just make the holidays easy for us?” Dad asked.
Leslie didn’t know why she wanted to cry. It wasn’t like she tried to ruin things for people. She was paying a man to attend the parties with her to try to take some of the focus off her failures as a human.
“Mom and the family will be mad at me either way, Dad. Whatever I do, someone’s offended, and I’m tired of showing up alone. I want Kieran to hang out with me this season.” This was the first time she’d ever said what she wanted out loud.
There were three breaths of silence, and then Dad said, “Fine. Go through with your rebellion. Bring a roughneck shifter as your date and break your mother’s heart. All she wants is what’s best for you. Your sisters all have—”
“I’m not my sisters. You all keep comparing me to them, and I’m not like any of them. I’m just me—pottery spinning, bright-color wearing, tiny house living, curly-haired black sheep. I’m okay with that. Mom got three out of four married and settled into the life you wanted. That’s pretty good. That’s seventy-five percent. You did well. Only twenty-five percent lost cause, so job well done.”
Da
d huffed an enormous sigh and shook his head. “I’m going to give everyone a heads up so there aren’t fireworks at the party tonight. Kieran, the promotion is off the table.”
“Again, I didn’t even know there was one. You promoted me three years ago to the highest position here.” He was extra snarly right now.
Dad ran his hand down his gray beard, and right before he walked out the door, he told her, “I don’t know where you got such a rebellious streak, but I’m very disappointed in you.”
Her heart hurt, but this was her normal. She was used to this.
She was used to disappointing people.
And from the fury on Kieran’s face as her dad walked out of the office, she figured she was probably somehow disappointing him for dragging him into this mess, too.
Chapter Five
Kieran had always known Bert Wilson was a bit of an asshole, but that was to be expected. He owned a dozen different businesses, all profitable, around Missoula. You didn’t become successful by being nice to everyone. You got successful by learning your power and muscling your way to the top.
But what he’d done to Leslie in there?
He wanted to fuckin’ punch her dad in the face.
She’d gone quiet. Now, he barely knew this woman, but he knew she wasn’t quiet by nature. He could just imagine how she was sucked into doing big family parties that probably drained the life out of her because she was right. She didn’t belong in that family. But then again, who would want to?
Currently, she was layered in every single spare piece of clothing he’d been able to find in his truck toolbox, and she looked roughly the shape of a snowman. She wasn’t asking questions about how to stabilize the trees on top of the trailer anymore. She was smart. A clever woman, he could tell. She learned something one time and then never had to ask about it again. The knowledge just got absorbed into her brain and muscle memory for use at a later date.
Could her three well-married sisters do that? Not fuckin’ likely.
Bert Wilson had a golden apple on his family tree, and he didn’t even realize it.
Kieran tossed a rope over the load and then meandered to the other side and tied it down. Determined to break the silence that drowned the entire woods right now, he said, “So tonight should be fun.”
“I’ve been thinking, and I understand if you’re mad at me. I’ll also understand if you don’t want to go. I can do this one alone.”
He froze up. “Do you want to do it alone?”
She pursed her lips, and her eyes got all big and emotional. Holy hell, this was the part he wasn’t good at—feeling. He wanted her to go back to smiling.
“First off, why the hell would I be mad at you? Your dad is the asshole and doesn’t even realize how cool you are. Probably none of your family does. Like you said, you’re clearly the black sheep of your family, but thank God. At least you’re fun.”
“I’m fun?”
“Yeah. You’re this artist who makes pottery and lives in a cool little house and lives this simple life outside of your family money. You like the simple life. You’ve figured it out better that most people our age. Money doesn’t buy happiness.”
A smile curved her lips, but then fell. “Tonight will probably be stressful.”
“Is that what you’re worried about?”
She gave a jerky nod. She looked so damn cute up on the trailer in three jackets with her head lookin’ all small on her body, legs splayed around a tree, and an old pair of his humongous boots strapped to her feet.
“You know, I used to love the holidays.” She sounded angry. “When I was a kid, it was magic. We had these huge parties where I would get to play with my cousins. My older sisters wouldn’t be so terrible to me because it was the holiday season, and this time of year makes people nicer. We got to eat all these yummy cookies and believe in Santa and open presents and sing carols and there were always people in our house. It just seemed…happy.”
“What happened to change that?”
“My sisters started getting married and my cousins and I got older. Then the focus was on everyone’s accomplishments as adults and their partners and engagements and pregnancy announcements and looking…”
“Looking what?”
“Looking perfect. It’s like there’s all this pressure around the holidays now to have accomplished more than the last year. To be moving forward in some way, and then I come alone and I don’t move forward. I’m just…”
“Happy to be you.”
“Yes! Oh, my God, yes.” She frowned and cocked her head, then quietly, she said, “You get it.”
“What a burden you must be,” he murmured. “They have to watch you being happy being different.”
She shrugged up her shoulders. “Anyway, thanks for letting me vent. I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this stuff.”
“You don’t have any friends?” he asked, curious. The more he learned about her, the more interesting she became and the more he wanted to learn.
“Oh, I have friends. You’ll meet them tonight.”
“Let me guess. They’re all close to your family.”
“Yep. Complaining to them doesn’t really accomplish much.”
“You want my opinion?”
“Of course. You’re my pretend-boyfriend. Your opinion holds the most weight.” She grinned brightly. Pretty smile, perfect white teeth, and full pink lips.
“I think you need friends outside of the Wilson Bubble.”
“The Wilson Bubble,” she murmured, adjusting the top of a tree straighter onto the pile. “I like that.”
“I think you need someone outside of that bubble to tell you it’s okay not to belong to that bubble.”
“Uh huh, okay, I like this.”
He pulled the rope through the metal ring and tied it off. “I’ll make you a deal.”
She hopped off the side of the trailer and fell face first into the snow.
He rushed to help her up, but she was laughing. And when she rolled over, she waved her arms and legs slowly. “What deal?” she asked.
He chuckled. She could’ve gotten embarrassed, but she’d turned a fall into a snow angel. “We’ll go to the party tonight—”
“You mispronounced suffer through the party tonight—”
“We won’t suffer. I’ll make sure you’re all good. And then tomorrow, after I get back from skinning the asshole who shorted us fifty spruce trees, we will do a different holiday tradition. One that will suit you a little more. You won’t ever like the holidays again if you keep doing the same traditions. It’s not on your family to change. You can’t control them. It’s on you to control your holiday life outside of the Wilson Bubble.”
Her smile was so soft, and her eyes were so pretty right now, a steel blue color with dark lashes surrounding them. She was looking up at him in awe. “Okay.” She propped up on her elbows. “Kieran Sassamafrass—”
“It’s Kieran Dunne.”
“You are worth every penny I’m paying you.”
Oh. Right. He’d forgotten this was a job.
Clearing his throat, he held out his hand and helped her up. She was way lighter than he’d expected, so she came catapulting into his chest.
Her giggle as he caught her was the cutest damn thing he’d ever heard in his life.
“Okay, Otter Man, you’re a little much with all the muscles and raw strength. I’m gonna need you to dial your smolderiness down a few octaves.” She was all smushed against his chest, grinning up at him. And he—Kieran doesn’t-like-to-touch-anyone Dunne—had his arms wrapped tightly around her.
Oh, shit. When he released her in a rush, she stumbled back but caught herself.
“Um, load up in the truck. The boys are waiting on us.” He strode past her and opened her door, careful to keep his eyes downcast lest he see any disappointment in her eyes and get that awful feeling in his chest again.
“Coward,” his animal whispered.
He wasn’t a coward, though.
&nb
sp; He just needed to refocus on the task at hand.
And pay his property taxes.
And then go back to his normal life.
This was just a job.
Chapter Six
This was fine. Everything was fine.
“Does he even really exist?” Aunt Pauline asked.
Stress-eating like a motherclucker, Leslie slathered another layer of cheese ball onto a cracker and shoved it into her mouth. Chewing fast like a mouse, she muttered around the bite, “He’s just running a little late is all.”
Which was probably not true. She was probably being stood up.
Kieran was supposed to pick her up from her tiny house at 6:30 so they could ride together like a real couple, but he’d texted at 6:20 and told her he would meet her here.
Mmm hmm.
And now she was grazing at the buffet table of hors d'oeuvres and appetizers with the weight of everyone’s eyes upon her.
Mom’s holiday parties were the social event of the season. There were currently over a hundred people mingling in the house. Maybe no one would notice if she slipped out the front door.
Leslie turned to escape but ran right into Mom. Her mother was wearing a red sparkling ballgown and about six pounds of hairspray in her hair. She looked around with a plastered smile as she caught Leslie’s elbows and attempted to steady them both. “Where is he?”
“Who?” Leslie asked brightly.
“Your friend. Who is a boy. Your father told me all about him.” Mom lifted her chin higher and smiled at the mayor and his wife as they passed.
“Oh, my boyfriend. Myyyyy boyfriend. Muh boyfran.” She giggled nervously and stuck her pointer finger in the air. “Maybe he is in the front yard. I’ll go check.”
“You aren’t leaving,” Mom growled out under her breath. “We have our traditional family pictures to take tonight. And for once you’re actually wearing an appropriate dress.”
Leslie looked down at her cleavage-baring thigh length green dress and grimaced out a smile. “Anything for you, Mommy.”
Really, she’d dressed up for her Otter Prince.
“Cut your shit tonight,” Mom whispered. “Just act normal and stop eating all the cheese ball.”