My texts go unanswered for the rest of the morning. He’s doing this on purpose. Why? Why is he invading my life? This was supposed to be easy. Hire him, play pretend for one damn day, and move on. He’s getting too close to me. He’s trying to be a part of my life. That can’t happen. There’s no room in my life for complicated.
Hunter Drake is the definition of complicated.
Work is a challenge the rest of the day. My mind won’t focus on anything other than him. The way he looked leaning against the doorway to my kitchen. The feel of his breath against my lips before our kiss. The kiss. I can’t seem to escape replaying that over and over again in my head.
Tomorrow is going to be hard to explain. Anna accepted my explanation of him today. When he shows his face again, she’ll be less convinced.
It’s after seven o’clock. I’m packing up for the night when my door bursts opening, startling me. Screaming at the top of my lungs, my instincts kicks in, and I duck behind my desk, praying the intruder didn’t spot me.
“I’m in love,” Ireland sings from across the room.
Damn her! She knows I scare easily.
Pushing myself off the floor, I go back to packing my bag. There’s still work to be done tonight, more than I should have. Maybe I’ll be able to focus better after a glass of wine or two. At least it’ll make my distractions less annoying.
“With who?” I finally ask her when she doesn’t willingly provide me the information.
“You know who. He’s so amazing, Reese. I swear we’re perfect for each other.”
The happiness in her voice makes me want to vomit. Hunter is ruining everything for me right now. I can’t even be happy for my best friend.
“Paul?”
“Yes, Paul,” she replies, sounding slightly irritated.
“That’s great, Ireland.”
“You can’t even fake being happy for me, can you?”
Looking up, I see her smile has faded. She burst through my door, happier than I’ve heard her in a very long time, and I’m killing her buzz.
“I’m sorry, I really am. I’m stressed out and tired. I am happy for you as long as you’re happy. I promise. After I get back, we’ll have to get together for drinks. Sound good?” I do the best I can to sounds happy and supportive.
“Oh shit! I completely forgot about the reunion this weekend. I’m the one that should be sorry,” she says, moving forward quickly and pulling me into her arms.
“No, it’s fine,” I reply, pushing away from her.
“How’s it going with Hunter?” she asks, purring as she says his name.
“Fine.” Lies. Lies. Lies. They keep spewing from my mouth without even a second thought. Ireland is the one person I can trust. I should be able to tell her anything, not lie to her about stupid shit. Plus, she’s the one that got me into this mess. Maybe she can help me out of it or at least give me some advice.
“Just fine?”
With a huff, I plop down in my chair. “It’s messy, Ireland. Really messy. I don’t know what to do.”
Her smile is weak. “Red or white?”
“Both,” I reply.
“Okay. I’ll stop and pick up a bottle of each and meet you at your house. You’re going to have to feed me, though. I’m starving.”
“Deal.”
An hour later, we’re sipping the sweet white wine, nibbling on Chinese takeout, and talking about Paul. I know she needs this as much as I do, so I let her ramble on as we drain the first bottle. He sounds great. It’s obvious how happy he makes her, which in turn makes me happy for her. She finally found what she’s been searching for.
“I could talk about him all night, but that’s not what you need right now. What seems to be the problem with Hunter? Last time we talked, it sounded like things were fine. You met, he seemed nice, he’s sexy as hell–”
“How do you know what he looks like?” I ask, interrupting her.
“He interrupted a meeting Paul and I were having the other day.”
Her use of finger quotes when she says meeting makes me laugh. “Yes, he’s easy on the eyes.”
“That’s putting it mildly. There’s a reason he’s in high demand. I heard Paul on the phone this morning, apologizing to someone that he wasn’t available this weekend. It took him ten minutes to calm her down. She didn’t want anyone else, she wanted Hunter. Paul’s going to have a hell of a time once he leaves.”
“Wait, he’s leaving?” I ask, surprised.
“Eventually. He’s only doing this to save money, I guess.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Pillow talk,” she replies, sheepishly.
“Please tell me you’re not talking about me with Paul while you’re both naked.”
“I can’t do that,” she smirks, pushing her wine glass toward me for a refill. “So why is it messy?”
“Ugh! He’s just more than I was expecting.”
“More as in attractive or more as in annoying?” she inquires, raising her left eyebrow at me suspiciously.
“Both. He showed up at the office this morning, Ireland. I had to lie to Anna about who he was. You know I hate lying.” I blow out a breath, take a sip of wine, and continue. “And, he’s picking me up for lunch tomorrow. At the office. Even though I told him he couldn’t. He’s impossible. It’s like he’s trying to get under my skin. What do I do?”
Looking to her for advice, I find Ireland biting her top lip, attempting not to smile at me.
“What!” I finally yell at her when she doesn’t say anything after a few seconds.
“You like him. That’s the problem.” Taking a sip of wine, her words are slightly muffled, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hear her accusation perfectly.
“That’s not it at all. He’s not following the rules. He’s breaking them left and right. So am I,” I reply defensively.
“What rules are you breaking?”
“I kissed him,” I whisper into my wine glass as I take another sip–a bigger one this time–realizing what I just confessed to her. I know better than to tell her things like this. She’ll blow it out of proportion, and judging by the look on her face right now, she’s about to.
“Oh. My. God. How was it?”
“Seriously?” I ask in disbelief. Typical Ireland.
“Yes. I want to know. He strikes me as the type that’s either an amazing kisser, or horrible. For your sake, I hope he’s not the latter.”
“It was fine. That’s not the point. We both agreed that we needed to kiss so it wouldn’t be awkward at the reunion. I’m starting to think it was a bad idea. He brought me coffee this morning. The last person to bring me coffee the morning after was–”
“Don’t say his name. He has nothing to do with this. Plus, I want to know more about the kiss. Where were you? Was there a spark? Are you planning on kissing him again? I think you should. Take advantage of that man any chance you get. Have fun with him. You never know where it might lead.” Wiggling her eyebrows at me, I’m shocked at what she’s insinuating.
“He’s not a prostitute, Ireland. I’m paying him right now.”
“Fine, wait until after the reunion, but you have to–”
“No. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You’re not helping.”
“Sorry.”
Silence falls between us. Ireland is twisting the charm at the base of her wine glass. She bought me a set of four for Christmas last year along with new wine glasses. It was the perfect gift. She normally gets me on a personal level, but not this time. I wish she understood what I was going through right now.
“Okay,” she finally says. “Here’s my two cents for what it’s worth. You can’t deny you’re attracted to him. That can work to your advantage at the reunion. People won’t question who he is. It sounds like you shouldn’t kiss him again, though. It’s causing you too much stress, and this weekend is going to be stressful enough for you. Talk to him tomorrow. Tell him why he’s stressing you out. It’s his job to understand. He
works for you and needs to adjust accordingly.
“As far as him picking you up… maybe meet him in the parking lot if he’s not taking no for an answer. Do whatever you can to avoid him coming inside the building. I’m free most of the morning, so if you need me to call Anna away from her desk, let me know. I can find things for her to do to keep her busy.”
“Thanks, Ireland.”
“Look, if this guy is getting under your skin as deep as you make it sound, I think you might want to consider giving him a chance after this is all over. I haven’t seen anyone affect you like this before. It’s a good thing, Reese. I promise.”
I wish I believed her. I can’t see any good coming from this situation. He already knows more than anyone else except for Ireland. He knows my deepest, darkest secrets. I’m not sure I want to be involved with someone who knows that much about my past. Why would they want to be part of my future?
“I don’t have time for a relationship. You know that.” Lies. All lies. It’s all that seems to come out of my mouth. I used to call being busy an excuse, but that was a lie, too. I was lying to myself, and now I’m lying to everyone else.
“You’re the boss. Make time. Delegate. Don’t sacrifice a chance as something good without even trying. You’ll regret it later on.”
As much as I want to disagree with her, I don’t. Instead, I change the subject, drag her into my room, and show her the dress I bought for this weekend. Once she’s gone, I drain the bottle of red and retreat to the back porch for fresh air.
Chapter Twelve
Hunter
Today is the day. I’m going to tell her the truth and pray she doesn’t attempt to kill me. It’s now or never. We can’t move forward until we work past this. That may take a while, she may tell me to stay home this weekend, but we can make it work. She’s worth the fight.
My plan is simple. I’m picking her up so she can’t escape. That sounds bad. I’m not going to hold her against her will–she’s not my hostage–but I need her to listen to me. If she has a way to leave before I’m done telling her everything, she’ll only get half the story.
Shaking my head, I clear the doubt that’s starting to creep in. This is the best plan. Stick to it. Keep it simple.
Pick her up.
Bring her back here.
Feed her lunch.
Talk. Tell her the truth.
After I’m done, it’s my turn to listen to her. She might yell, spew hatred at me. On the other hand, she may say nothing. I’m not sure how she’s going to react.
Looking up at the clock, I’m about to find out.
After I slip the casserole in the oven, I grab my keys and glance around the room one more time. It’s as clean as it’s ever been. I’m not a messy person, but I spent extra time last night tidying up. There was a stack of movies on the coffee table that needed to find their home. A few magazines scattered around that I threw away. Somehow, a dish towel was hiding under a throw pillow, and judging by how awful it smelled, it had been there awhile.
My hands grip the steering wheel tight, the sweat from my palms causing them to slip. Sitting at the light, I can see Kennedy Real Estate just up the block. I wipe my palms on my jeans, take a deep breath and blow it out quickly.
Pulling into the parking lot, I look around for Reese’s car to make sure she didn’t ditch me. There it is. Right next to it stands Reese. Waving at me. This must be her way of keeping me out of the building. I knew she didn’t want me to come back here, ever, or pick her up today, but I didn’t give her an option. Parking next to where she stands, I unlock the door for her, and she crawls in.
“We need to make this quick,” she starts, buckling her seat belt. “I have a meeting in an hour that I can’t miss.”
Doing the math in my head, it’s going to take us thirty-five minutes to get to my apartment and back. That’s not going to work. Plus, the casserole won’t be done for another ten after we get there. Shit!
My plan is shot to hell.
I’m going to have to improvise.
“There’s a bar around the corner. The food’s pretty good and there’s not much of a crowd this time of day,” Reese suggests.
A bar? I’m supposed to tell her in a bar? That’s not going to happen. This is going to end up being a business lunch. There’s nothing I can do to change that. If I’m going to tell her, it’s going to be at the right time, in an appropriate place, in the right way. I owe her that at the very least.
Punctual should be her middle name. Reese has me dropping her off forty-seven minutes after I picked her up. She waves over her shoulder as she disappears through the front doors.
We went through more information over lunch than we have in our previous two and a half (if you count my intrusion yesterday) meetings. She did most of the talking while I scribbled notes on a napkin. Had I known in advance, I would have come prepared.
As soon as I walk through the door, I pull the casserole from the oven and turn off the timer. Looking at the clock on the stove, it’s been going off for twenty minutes or so. I’ll reheat it for dinner tonight. Reaching into my pocket, I pull my napkin covered in notes out. Reading over them, I realize there’s not going to be an opportunity for me to tell her before we leave.
It’s off the table completely.
I’m going to have to play along for now.
When we return, I’ll tell her the truth.
If she forgives me… well, I’ll cross that bridge when we get there. I have a strange feeling that she’s not going to forgive me easily. I’ve been lying to her, repeatedly. I still am. Every time I talk to her, I lie. With every passing moment that I don’t stop everything and tell her the truth, I lie to her.
Our entire relationship is a lie.
What we’re doing this weekend… a lie.
So many lies–it’s hard to determine where the lies stop and reality begins. I’m sure that line will become incredibly clear the moment I tell her the truth. I can see it now. Her mouth will drop open in shock for a second before she realizes what I’m saying. Then she’ll smack me across the face. Or she’ll play it cool, say something that will strike deep, hurting me, and walk away. That sounds more like her. She’s classy like that.
No matter which way things turn out, I don’t see her forgiving me. I wish there was a way I could make her see why I’m doing this. Maybe then, she’d at least try to forgive me.
What if I don’t tell her? Is that even an option?
Not if I want to have a real relationship with her. My past will come out eventually. The fact that we went to the same high school will reveal itself in time. I can’t hide who I really am forever. It’s impossible.
Looking over my napkin one last time, I push it across the counter in frustration. I need to pack, pick up my tux, and mentally prepare for this weekend. As hard as this is going to be for Reese, it’s going to be equally as hard on me.
She gets to show everyone who she really is… I have to pretend to be someone I’m not.
Chapter Thirteen
Reese
Hunter was acting weird. Honestly, so was I, so I can’t blame him. Today I showed him a side of me he’s never seen before. Things were all business, more so than our first meeting. I was in charge, sure of myself and my words. Instead of being the uncertain client, I was the boss.
He wrote out most of what I asked him to do on a tiny napkin that started out under his water glass. Once I started talking, I never stopped. I rattled things off the entire lunch. He never asked any questions, only nodded and made notes. He barely even touched his burger, but neither did I.
Between being nervous about this weekend, and nervous around Hunter, I can barely breathe let alone eat, think, or sleep. I’ll be glad once this is all over. I won’t have to worry about Tiffanie and her clan of assholes. My life can go back to being normal. Boring, but normal.
Maybe I’ll spice things up and keep in touch with Hunter. No, that would be a horrible idea. Plus, I’m sure he’s normally very busy w
ith other clients. I have to remind myself that I’m paying him for his services. He’s only being nice to me because he has to. He’s only taking me to lunch because we need to finalize our plans. Beyond that, we have no relationship, and it needs to stay that way.
As soon as I’m back in my office, I let my head fall to my desk and exhale a deep breath out.
Lying has never been my specialty, and I feel like all I’ve done is lie to Hunter–and myself–for the past few days. So much so, I wish I really did have a meeting happening this afternoon. I’ve managed to complete my to-do list for this week already. Trying to stay focused on anything other than this weekend has been good for my productivity but nothing else.
I barely slept last night after Ireland left. What sleep I did manage to get was restless. About the time the sun started to rise, I gave up, went for a run and then came straight to the office. Lunchtime rolled around painfully slow.
“You should go home and relax,” Ireland says from just inside my door.
“I wish I could,” I reply, running my fingers through my hair and stretching my arms above my head.
“Why can’t you? It’s not like you have much going on today.”
“If I leave, something will come up and I’ll just have to come back. There’s plenty to do around here.”
Ireland deadpans me until she’s certain she has my complete attention. “What you really need is to get laid. Now, I know that’s not going to happen, so I’ll settle for you taking the rest of the afternoon off. If someone needs anything, I’ll be here. I have one closing this afternoon, and then I’m free. You have a choice to make, Reese. You can either leave now, on your own, go to the spa around the corner and relax for a few hours. Or,” she pauses, probably for dramatic effect. I play into her hand and raise my eyebrow at her, challenging her to continue. “Or, I can force you to leave.”
“And how to do you plan to do that?”
“I’ll call Hunter and have him here in a matter of minutes,” she threatens.
“You wouldn’t, and he wouldn’t. He’s not your pet, Ireland. He doesn’t come when you call. That’s Paul, remember?” Low blow and I know it, but she’s not playing fair.
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