by Kelsey King
“No, I insist. You work hard at the café. I can tell. I also know that if you went with me to this, you’d be losing hours at work and that would be a blow for you.”
He’s being sincere. There’s a chance I could lose my job since we’re so short-handed and the manager relies on me to be at work every day.
“So when is this event?” I glance at him.
“Soon. Two weeks,” he confirms.
“Well, I don’t know what to say.” I’m speechless.
Tate turns toward me, earnestness in his eyes. “It won’t be much, of course. Just enough to make it worth your time and keep you afloat. What about fifty?”
I feel like I’ve misheard something or that I lost the thread of the conversation.
“Fifty what?” I ask.
“Fifty thousand,” he confirms. “I was considering what amount would make your time worthwhile. I want this to be beneficial for you and you not to have to worry about much when you return.”
I go silent. Clearly, I’m in some kind of dream, or he’s joking. Does Tate seriously want to pay me fifty thousand dollars to go with him to his grandparents’ anniversary? I would go for free. Hell, I’d almost pay him to be his date.
But I don’t tell him that.
“Tate, I don’t think that’s unnecessary. And I’m a woman, not an escort. Plus, I’d have rules.”
“No, no. I’m not actually propositioning you like that. There’d be no physical expectations between us. I mean, I’ll have to hold your hand and kiss your cheek to sell that we’re together, but other than that, we’d keep it strictly business. We’ll sleep in the same room, but I’ll sleep on the floor, and you can have the bed. I’ll take care of the wardrobe for you because it’ll be extensive. And I’ll cover all the travel costs. But what I am going to need from you is a bit of…acting.”
I laugh. “Acting?”
He sucks in a deep breath, and I realize he’s serious. “You’ll have to pretend to be my fiancée.”
I search his face, waiting for him to tell me he’s just joking, but those words don’t come. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“As a heart attack.” He grins. “You can think about it. I know that it seems a bit unconventional, but as I said, I want to make it worth your time. I’ve been thinking about it today, and I realized the only woman I’d want to take with me is you. There’s a connection between us, Brianna. I can feel that, so I think you being my fake fiancée would be halfway believable. I know it’s a crazy idea, but seeing you here tonight is like it was meant to be.”
I look off to the other side of the bar where Callie throws a dart and then jumps up in the air with joy, holding her beer and spilling it on herself. What would she say if she was sitting here with me listening to all of this? She’d probably cheer me on.
Of course, she freaking would.
“I need to think about it,” I finally reply. “It’s not that the offer isn’t appealing, it just seems like…a lot.”
“It is a lot, and I respect your need to think about it. It’s a big deal for me, too. I can’t do it alone,” he admits.
We sit in silence for a few minutes as I think about everything he just said. He’s watching the basketball game and orders another beer. I turn to him. “What do you mean by ‘wardrobe’?”
“Well, there are a few things about my background I haven’t explained.”
“Like?” I want to know everything about him.
“My family is…” He sighs. “They’re elite.”
“So they’re wealthy?” I ask, realizing how rude I sound blurting that out. He offered me fifty thousand dollars for a weekend like it was nothing. But there is so much I could do with that money—fix up dad’s house, pay off debt, hell; I could even go back to school if I wanted.
“Yeah, you could say that.” He doesn’t sound happy talking about them. “And there are certain standards and expectations from me, and of course, from my fiancée. It’ll be an over-the-top event.”
“I think I understand,” I admit.
“It might take time to get you prepared.” He flashes a boyish grin that sends tingles right down my spine.
“Take some time to think about it. But it’s coming up in two weeks, so the sooner you decide, the better.”
There’s warmth in his glance, but this time there’s a hunger there, too.
“I plan to get you a ring, as well.”
“A ring?” I say, again too loudly. It’s like everything that comes out of his mouth shocks me.
He chuckles. “Well my fiancée needs a ring,” he winks. “There’s a jeweler I know in New York, but we’ll have to get your finger sized so he can ship it out within the week.”
“But the anniversary isn’t for two weeks.”
“Yes, but you’ll need to get used to wearing it.”
My mouth practically falls to the floor, and I’m in a constant state of shock. Tate smiles to himself and looks down at his beer. Is he feeling the same crazy attraction as I am toward him? It’s undeniable.
“How about I come to the café on Friday, and you can tell me what you decide then?”
“You don’t have to do that. I can call you.” I immediately feel stupid because we haven’t even exchanged numbers.
“I rarely use my phone. In fact, I haven’t seen it for days and have no idea where it is.” He chuckles.
“I can tell you like being off the grid.” I snicker. “Crazy you moved from Chicago to be in full seclusion. Seems like I have a lot to learn.”
“You have no idea,” he replies.
His smile is perfect, and I love the way he looks at me. It causes that familiar heat to hit my cheeks once again.
I see Callie hugging someone on the other side of the bar before she waves at me and makes her way toward us. I’m not ready for Tate and I’s conversation to be over, but I feel it’s coming to an end.
“I suppose I’ll let you get back to your night,” Tate says on cue, finishing the sip of beer left the bottle. “See you soon.” He stands and when he does his arm brushes against mine again. He’s close enough I can smell his soap and clean laundry scent. I don’t want him to leave. His body is warm and strong and strangely comforts me.
“Of course,” I reply, not sure what else to say.
Tate closes out his check and heads to the door. I can’t stop watching him as he gets inside his truck and drives away. Callie walks up, and I’m trying to get my thoughts together. I ask the bartender for our check only to find out Tate paid for everything.
I’m dumbfounded, but I already know my answer. I would’ve told him yes immediately, but I didn’t want to seem desperate. Plus, I need to get with the café and see what they have to say about me taking off, but I know for a fact I’m going to take the chance. I’ll go to Chicago with Tate and pretend to be his fiancée. I’m nervous and excited, but it seems like the type of adventure I’ve been looking for.
“How did it go with Tate?” Callie says, returning to the bar.
“You’re not going to believe this,” I reply.
“What?”
“Give me a moment to catch my breath. I feel like I might pass out.”
7
Tate
I’m sitting outside at the Whitefish Café, and I have to laugh. Who would’ve ever thought I’d wind up here for the third time in two weeks? If someone told me this would happen, I’d tell them they were crazy. But sure enough, here I am. It has been a week of surprises, to say the least. I wish I could say that I was upset about it, but I’m more excited than I thought. I can’t wait to hear what Brianna has to say, and I genuinely hope that she’ll say yes to my proposition.
The truth is, it’s not about the money. I’d pay Brianna whatever she needed to make it worth her while. I know she struggles and works hard, and if I can help her in any way I want to, but I know she’s too proud to accept a large sum of money. I hope I didn’t make her feel like a professional escort or even worse. That was never my intention.
&nb
sp; From the look in her eyes on Wednesday at the Mountain Brewery, I knew she was surprised. I liked it. I gave up trying to impress people years ago, but for a brief moment, I was satisfied Brianna was intrigued by my family history. Hopefully, she doesn’t get put off by it once we’re there.
I’m already getting ahead of myself.
Before coming to the café, we stopped off at Ethel’s, and I got Shark his favorite treat, which he’s currently eating. I soak up the sun and try to enjoy the later afternoon as I wait for Brianna to come to my table. I haven’t even seen her yet, and a part of me begins to worry that she took off today to avoid me.
Just as the negative thoughts are beginning to leak in, Brianna walks onto the patio looking flustered. She’s quickly tying her apron around her slender waist, and her hair is messy. It’s like she just got out of bed and I like the way she looks.
The manager comes out onto the patio after her, not looking pleased.
“That’s ten minutes late, Brianna,” the guy says.
“I know, I’m sorry,” she says. “My dad wasn’t doing well this morning.”
“That’s the perfect excuse,” the manager rolls his eyes and turns around and walks back into the café.
I’m seething by how he spoke to her. I want to get up and teach him a little respect, but she glances toward my table and gives me an apologetic smile. I smile back, trying to tell her everything is okay. As she runs back and forth, I can’t help but think that the stupid manager should hire more than one waitress for the lunch shift. Clearly, he’s trying to save a buck. I can’t stop thinking about what she said about her dad. There’s so much I don’t know about her, and it makes me think how ridiculous my idea is. But the point is, I want to know everything about her.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, bringing me a cup of coffee and glass of water.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” I reply.
“It’s been a horrible morning, and I overslept on top of it all.”
“You handled it well,” I say, smiling. “You’re here.”
“Plus Callie was at my house way too late last night. We were up…discussing things.”
“Discussing my proposal?”
There’s guilt on her face, but also excitement.
“I don’t know why I thought we’d be slow today,” Brianna says, seeing two more tables in her section were seated. “I hoped we’d have more time to talk.”
“Well, it’s a gorgeous day out. Lots of people coming out to enjoy it.”
Her eyes meet mine. “So let me guess, the Reuben?”
I give her a mischievous grin.
“You can’t order the same thing for the third time!” she protests.
“Why not?”
“Because. It’s not good for you. The human body needs variety.”
There are others things that the human body needs which pop into my mind, but I don’t mention those.
“Well, I’ll put mustard on it this time.”
“No, no, no,” Brianna says, her strong will taking hold. “I’m getting you a kale wrap.”
“It might kill me.”
“It won’t kill you, and it’ll be good for you. Even mountain men need vegetables, you know.” She smirks, her eyes shining, and I’m happy to see she’s brushed off her asshole manager’s attitude.
Brianna walks off, and I know a week in Chicago with her will more than likely make me crave her even more than I currently do.
Shark is still beside me in total heaven, and I’m enjoying watching the tourists walk down the sidewalk, carrying on meaningless conversations about the weather and town.
Brianna comes back with my kale wrap, and in all honesty, it doesn’t look that bad.
“I know that you’re going to like this.”
“Hmm,” I reply, inspecting the wrap. It’s colorful, to say the least, and I’m grateful there are fries on the side. Not exactly a hearty meal, but I’ll suck it up and eat it for her.
Since catching up on things, Brianna seems to be in a lighthearted mood, and it makes me happy. Every so often she glances back my way and smiles at me. It’s a good indication that perhaps she’s ready to accept my offer. It seems silly to feel excited considering I’m paying her to be with me, but I think she wants to join me too. I haven’t been like this about something in a long time, and it feels good.
“Well?” she asks, refilling my water.
“I hated it,” I reply, looking down at my empty plate.
“See! You have to try new things.” Brianna looks victorious, and that kind of glee suits her well.
“You’re right. I guess I need you around full time.”
The statement flies out of my mouth before I have time to analyze it. I don’t regret saying it either. She’s blushing, and I remember it from the night before. Every time that she blushes I feel victorious.
“Well, you won’t have me around full time, but perhaps for a week.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“I don’t have to sign a contract, do I?” she asks.
“I’m not Christian Grey.”
Brianna lets out a big laugh, and I join her. Man, she has a beautiful laugh.
“Brianna!” the manager calls out again, still not pleased. I get the impression nothing makes him happy.
“Listen, you don’t have to give an official answer now. Have dinner with me.”
“What?” she asks.
“Have dinner with me. Then we can talk.”
“Brianna!” the manager calls again.
“I’m working the dinner shift,” Brianna says anxiously, looking back at the manager who’s standing with the door to the patio open and a snarl on his face.
“Come to my place afterward. I’ll make us a late dinner.”
She’s considering it, and I’m hoping she’ll say yes. Cooking for her would be fun.
“Okay, but I’m not off until nine pm. We stop serving at eight.”
“No worries, I’ll pick you up.”
“Okay,” she replies with a grin and nods. I can tell she’s excited, which makes me smile.
Brianna goes to the manager who’s still being a dick, and I look down at Shark with a satisfied grin on my face. Shark’s having one of the best days of his life, because not only did he have his baked treat but he also enjoyed half of my fries.
I throw a bill down on the table and walk out of the café. Shit, I did it again. I left another hundred dollar bill, and surely Brianna will be rolling her eyes thinking I’m trying to buy her or something. It isn’t that. Money is just money, and it feels good to give it to her.
Once Shark and I are inside my truck, I look back toward the patio and watch Brianna for a moment, darting around quickly. All the tables are filled at this point, and she’s doing her best to keep up. I wish she didn’t have to do this job. I let out a breath and back out of the parking lot.
So, Brianna is coming to my place for dinner. That means there’s a lot to do to prepare. I’m going to make her dinner, which is crazy considering I haven’t cooked for a woman in years. This is going to call for a trip to the supermarket, for sure. The first order of business is the supermarket, which I try to avoid. I usually just come into town a few times a month and load up on as many groceries as I can.
I walk into the supermarket in a daze and already feel overwhelmed. I have to admit that growing up in Chicago we had a chef prepare our dinners. I’d ask for anything I wanted, and it was made. I never liked the fancy stuff that my mother asked for. I was content with grilled cheese sandwiches and French fries, though it was frowned upon at the simplistic of it.
Walking through the produce section, I look around trying to decide what I’m going to cook. I don’t even know where to start. I stand in front of the onions and scratch my head.
“You look lost,” an elderly woman says, leaning against her push cart.
“I think that you’re right,” I reply.
“These are the best potatoes,” she says, motioning towa
rd the red ones.
“Well, I gotta make a dinner tonight, and I don’t know where to begin,” I tell her. The lady seems like the kind of person who would be sympathetic to these kinds of problems.
“I see. Is it a family dinner?”
“No, it’s for a lady.”
Her eyes light up, and I can tell she’s intrigued.
“Oh, that kind of dinner!” she says with enthusiasm.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You can’t go wrong with a nice pasta.”
“Really?” I’m thrilled because I actually know how to make that.
“Oh, yes. You can win any woman’s heart with pasta.”
The lady walks around the supermarket with me and proceeds to fill my cart. She puts asparagus in there, which I recognize, also mushrooms, shallots, which she has to explain, and dry vermicelli pasta. She also picks up some garlic bread from the bakery section and gets some shrimp from the seafood station.
“You’ve saved the day,” I say to her, genuinely grateful that she helped me out. Now I’d just have to figure out how to bring it all together.
“My pleasure,” she says with a smile. She reaches up and grabs my cheek. “You remind me of my grandson.”
“Thank you.” I give the woman a hug.
I have all the workings for a fantastic meal and decide to pick up a bottle of wine. Riding back to my cabin, I’m feeling good. Making dinner for a beautiful woman is just what I need, and even Shark seems elated. He sticks his head outside the window of my truck and enjoys the wind on his furry face.
This joyful ride comes to a stop when I reach the cabin and find a BMW parked out front. The car is immaculately clean in comparison to my truck, which I never wash. I know who the BMW belongs to, and I’m not pleased.
I hop out of the truck and open the door for Shark to do the same. I walk toward the BMW, the dirt from my tires still whirling in the air. The door to the luxury vehicle opens, and my brother Tanner steps out, dressed head to toe in Ralph Lauren.
“Nice place you got here,” Tanner says.
“How’d you find me?”
“Mom gave me the address.”
“And aren’t I grateful for that,” I reply sarcastically.
“Look at you. I’ve never seen a beard quite like that.” He’s grinning, but I feel like I’m being judged for living the way I want to live.