by Scott, Lisa
While his parents walked down the street to grab a bite to eat from the all night deli, he brought their luggage upstairs, dropping it in his front hall. Something in the kitchen immediately caught his attention. Dirty dishes in the sink? Did Aurora make herself something to eat while she was here?
He walked through the apartment. Someone had left a reading light on in his den. The doors to the guest bedrooms were open. And why wasn’t that darn dog running out of her room to greet him? Miss Sniggles was annoying, but she was always happy to see him, perhaps the only creature that felt that way these days.
He flipped on the hall light and paused outside his room. What the hell? Someone was sleeping in his bed, and he didn’t recognize the tangle of blond curls as Aurora’s. He walked into his room, planted his fists on his hips and cleared his throat. “Hope my bed is comfortable.”
The girl sucked in a breath and sat up, her eyes wide with panic. “Blake? What are you doing home so early?” She pressed her hand against her chest, covering up her low cut nightgown.
He raised an eyebrow. “How do you know me, but I don’t know you?”
She blinked and gulped. “I’m Goldie Lockston, Aurora’s friend. She had to go out of town on an emergency. She asked if I could take care of the dog.”
“She didn’t have permission to stay here.”
Her mouth opened and closed, and if he weren’t annoyed with her he would have thought she was sexy, in a disheveled way. Miss Sniggles looked at him and curled up next to the girl, the furry little traitor.
Goldie’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I kind of had nowhere to stay, so I crashed here while I was watching the dog. It’s almost like an extra service, really. Round the clock dog sitting.” She smiled at him hopefully.
“It’s more like a bonus, free room and board.”
Out came a scowl. “I’ll get my stuff together.”
Surprisingly, he didn’t want to see her go. In fact, she might be able to help him out. He held up a hand. “Hang on a minute. I won’t fire Aurora and I won’t call police on you if you do one thing for me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What?”
He exhaled. This was going to sound bad. “My parents are on their way up any minute, and I want them to think you’re my girlfriend.”
She blinked at him. “Why?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “Because my mother has been on a matchmaking rampage since I broke up with my girlfriend six months ago. In an effort to put an end to her constant suggestions and inquires, I might have told her I’ve been seeing someone.”
“Ahh. And that’s who I’m pretending to be.”
He nodded.
“But I’d never go out with someone like you.”
He cocked his head. “Oh really? And how do you know that?”
“From a quick glance around your apartment. It looks like it was staged.”
“Yes, I bought it that way in case I ever have to move. It’s ready to sell.”
“But how can you live here if you’re ready to leave at a moment’s notice?”
He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but what was the point? “They won’t be here long. It hardly matters if you’d really date me or not.”
She shrugged. “Fine. If I agree, will you let me stay here the rest of the week until I figure out where to go next?”
His eyebrows shot up. “You’re homeless?”
“Not exactly.” She yawned and stretched. “Well, kind of, I guess.” She sighed. “Yes. For now, I am without a home, so I’ll play along. So, who am I? What do I do?”
He looked up at the ceiling. He was placing his future in the hands of a homeless apartment crasher who thought she was too good to date him? “I have a feeling I’m going to regret this, but here goes. My parents will be up here any minute. You’re Nicole Dawson, you’re a lawyer on track to make partner, and we’ve been dating for three months.”
She shook her head. “No way. I’m not lawyer material at all.”
He sucked in a breath and counted to five. “Yes, you are. I told them my girlfriend was a lawyer.”
Chewing on her bottom lip, she squinted her eyes, then pointed at him. “How about this. I was a lawyer, but I’m thinking about quitting to pursue my love of art. Which is true. I’m an artist.”
“Which is why you’re homeless.”
She nodded. “And, it can lead to the perfect scenario for a breakup. You can’t believe I’d do something so irresponsible. You can’t spend the rest of your life with someone who makes rash decisions like quitting their job to pursue their passion.”
“Or crashing in a stranger’s apartment.”
“Well, that too. But that’s not part of our story, here.” She tucked her legs underneath her, enthusiastically creating their tale. “Okay, now your turn. I know your name is Blake, your apartment is so generically decorated I wasn’t sure someone actually lived here and for some reason you have a pet dog more suitable for an eight-year-old girl than a hot thirty-something guy.”
That caught his attention and he hesitated for a moment. She thought he was hot. He suppressed a smile. Hot—not rich, or a good catch, or a suitable mate. All the things he usually heard from the women who ran in his circle. Hot. His insides hummed. And then he remembered his emasculating pet blinking up at him; and that Goldie wasn’t interested in him. “The dog was a gift to my ex, and she refused to take it because it reminded her of me.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have the heart to give her away. And I hired someone specifically to make my apartment look neutral not generic. What else?”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a lawyer close to making partner.”
“Do we get along? Do you love me like mad?” She clasped her hands in front of her in a romantic gesture.
“Excuse me?”
She shrugged. “Am I a casual girlfriend or is this serious? What did you get me for Christmas? Which side of the bed do I sleep on? What have you told your parents about me? Will they be surprised I’m here?”
Right. That was a little strange. “I’ll tell them the dog sitter bailed on me—that part is true—and that you, my lovely Nicole, came to watch my dog. They shouldn’t be here long. We’ll only have to keep up this ruse for half an hour or so.”
“I’ve had shorter relationships.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Kidding. It just feels like that sometimes.”
He heard his parents come through the front door. “Can you put on a robe or something?” He gestured to her short, silky pink gown.
“I travel light. No room for a robe. Got one you can lend me?”
He pulled his plush white robe out of his closet and handed it to her.
Hopping off the bed, she tugged her arms through the sleeves. “Are we breaking up right now?”
“No, just say hello and I’ll give them the bad news later this week that it’s over.”
“But then she’ll just try to set you up with someone else.”
He shook his head. “I’ll be so devastated I won’t be able to date anyone for a long, long time.”
She nodded in agreement. “It’s true. You would be devastated if I dumped you. Most guys are.”
He laughed. “Okay, Nicole. Time to meet the parents.”
***
Goldie checked her spring of blond curls in the mirror and took a deep breath. This is what you get for crashing at a stranger’s. Maybe it was time to buckle down and get a real job. She shuddered at the thought.
She followed Blake into the kitchen and figured the less she said the better. His mother and father were arguing over whether or not to pick up milk and bread on the way home. They stopped bickering and looked up when she and Blake walked into the kitchen.
“Oh, hello there,” his mother said. She blinked rapidly under shiny black bangs. She was a beautiful woman, with green eyes just like Blake.
“Who’s this, son?” his father asked. He was tall and lean like Blake. It was li
ke Blake had taken their best qualities to become their super hottie son. Super-hottie-without-a-sense-of-humor-or-creative-decorating-taste son.
Blake stood behind Goldie and put his hands on her shoulders. “Mom, Dad, this is Nicole. Turns out my dog sitter had to cancel and contacted Nicole, so she came over to watch Miss Sniggles.”
“I just love that little thing,” Goldie said.
“You do know that was his ex’s dog, right?” Mrs. Behr asked.
Goldie nodded. “But it’s not like I’m wearing her old shoes or engagement ring or something. It’s just a cute little doggie!” On cue, Miss Sniggles came bounding into the room, pawing on Goldie’s leg to be picked up.
“So, Blake tells us you’re a lawyer,” his father said.
She paused. Now wasn’t the time to announce the news of her sudden career change. “I am. I’m not so sure it’s my calling, though.” She tried her best to sound wistful.
Mrs. Behr looked alarmed. “Why not?”
She shrugged. What are all the reasons she’d hate being a lawyer? “Well, the wardrobe for one. All those stuffy suits?” She made a face. “And people are constantly telling me stupid lawyer jokes. And then dealing with all those murders and thieves?” She threw up hands up in the air as if to say, ‘What can you do?’
Mrs. Behr held a finger in the air, as if requesting to ask a question. “I thought you were a real estate lawyer.”
Blake cleared his throat. “Oh, she is. She helps the murderers and thieves find housing when they leave jail.”
“There are lawyers for that?” his mother asked.
Goldie nodded. “Blake thinks it’s a good career path for me.”
He rubbed her arm. “Well, now that you’ve said hello, why don’t you go back to bed, darling? You must be tired and not up for much more talking,” he said through a tight smile.
“Yes, go back to sleep, Nicole. I’m so sorry we woke you. We can chat in the morning.” His mother turned to Blake. “I’ve decided we’re going to stay here tonight since your father doesn’t want to stop at the grocery store for milk.”
“We can get it in the morning,” his dad grumbled, crossing his arms.
Blake froze. “Stay here? Really? I thought you were anxious to get home? I thought you were just stopping in for a moment?” He probably didn’t realize his grip on her arm had tightened. A lot.
“That was before I knew we’d have a chance to get to know Nicole. We won’t be in the way. Not a bit. We’ll take the guest room down the hall and see you in the morning. Now you two run off. I’m sure you’re eager for some time alone.”
Goldie waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, we are.”
His mother forced a smile. “We’ll see you in the morning. So nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” Goldie walked out of the kitchen back to Blake’s bedroom, where he closed the door behind him.
He looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “A real estate attorney for criminals. Quite a niche market.”
“You didn’t tell me what kind of lawyer. I had to wing it.” She took off the robe. “So, what do we do now?”
“You can sleep in the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
“Thanks!” She hopped on the bed, then started bouncing on it, causing it to creak. “This way they’ll think you really missed me. That’ll make the break up that much more dramatic.” She stood up and jumped, kicking her legs up behind her.
Creak, creak, creak.
“Stop it!” he hissed.
She stopped bouncing and sat down with a huff. “You know, I think if I had an actual relationship with you, it really would last only an hour or so.”
He rolled his eyes. “God willing.”
***
The bed that had seemed so comfortable was now offering Goldie no sleep, not with Blake tossing and turning on the couch. She imagined his muscles flexing under his t-shirt. Sure, he was grumpy and uptight and lived in an ostentatious apartment, but there was something intriguing and attractive about him.
And of course, she was busy wondering where she’d go next. One week here would give her a chance to regroup. Maybe it was time to settle for a real job. Something that would give her the means to find her own place. For the first time, she wanted to stay put. Something about Blake’s place grounded her, made her long for stability.
The next morning, she’d hit the want ads. She would.
That decision must have settled her, because she found herself waking to a sunny room and the smell of coffee. Blake was gone, and she hoped his parents weren’t up yet so she had a moment to talk to Blake and get their story straight.
Grabbing his robe—and inhaling the faint masculine scent that lingered in the fabric of the collar—she wandered to the kitchen. His parents were there, chatting with Blake. His mother looked up and smiled when Goldie stepped in the room. “Good morning, dear. Wait until you hear the good news.”
“You’re leaving for another cruise? Right now?” she asked.
“Oh, no. My days at sea are over after that debacle. No, I was just telling Blake I got an email from a friend inviting us up to their cottage in the mountains for a few days. Since we all had plans to be on vacation anyway, we should go. It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other better.”
Goldie’s heart quickened. She was torn. This act was going to be tough to pull off. But a few days in the mountains? She could get some incredible painting done there, and have plenty of work for her show.
Then she thought about squatting in the woods all those years ago and the possibility of bears. “There’s indoor plumbing, right?”
“Of course.”
Before Goldie could say yes, Blake fixed her with a stare. “I told my mother you have that thing to do this week. At that place.”
But she’d already fallen in love with the idea of a painting trip to the mountains. A free painting trip to the mountains, and another few days of accommodations. She waved him off. “Oh, that thing? No, didn’t I tell you? That’s been cancelled. While you were away. Cancelled!” she said, like it was the best news ever.
He gave her a tight smile and exhaled slowly.
His mother clapped her hands together. “Excellent. Then it’s settled. We’ll leave this morning.” She shrugged. “We’re already packed.”
“Can I talk to you for a minute, Nicole?” Blake asked.
She followed him into the other room, Miss Sniggles trailing after them. “What do you think you’re doing?”
She’d thought of the same question and she was a step ahead of him. “Setting the stage for the breakup. I’m going to bring my art supplies, do some painting, and that’ll lend credibility to our breakup story.” Goldie shrugged like she’d been explaining the ABC’s to a kindergartener for the tenth time.
He closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.”
“It’s fine. What could go wrong?”
***
Goldie stroked the poor pooch in her lap. “How could you not know she gets car sick?”
“I don’t usually bring her with me in the car.”
“She’s a purse pooch. They’re made to be portable.” The dog barfed up another tablespoon of vomit, and Goldie cleaned it up with the last napkin from the glove compartment.
“And how did you happen to name her Miss Sniggles?”
Blake sighed. “My ex thought it sounded like a mix between giggle and snuggles.”
Goldie stared at him for a moment. “For real?”
He could barely manage a nod.
“Huh. Did you meet her when you were in a coma? Was it like that movie where Sandra Bullock showed up and pretended to be the guy’s girlfriend? Because that doesn’t strike me as your type.” Miss Sniggles burped.
“Is she going to be okay?” Blake asked.
Goldie smiled at him. “Aww, you really love her don’t you?”
“More than he loved Katrina, apparently,” his mother said.
Blake gr
umbled something and looked out the window.
“One thing’s for sure, that dog loves you, Nicole,” his mother said, leaning forward between the seats. “It’s like she’s forgotten all about Katrina.” His mother sniffed, and his father patted her hand. “I’m sorry. I thought she was the one. I even had the reception venue all picked out.” She straightened her shoulders and forced a brave smile. “But now you’re here, and I swear, I feel an instant connection with you, Nicole. I’ve got a very good feeling about this.”
“Oh, me, too.” Goldie turned around and squeezed her hand.
Coming to a stop at a red light, Blake cleared his throat. “I don’t place much stock in ‘feelings’.” He made air quotes around the word.
His father leaned forward. “Son, I had a feeling your mother would be the one the moment I saw her.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Goldie said. “I can tell you two are still really close. It’s lovely.”
They beamed at each other in the back seat and the dog threw up again.
“Exactly how I feel, Miss Sniggles.” Blake shot Goldie a look as the light turned green.
Fine, fine, she got the point. Time to set the stage for the breakup. “So, I’m going to be spending some time by myself painting. Hope that’s okay with everyone.”
“Painting?” his mother asked, sitting up straight. “You’re a painter?”
Here we go, Goldie thought, mentally rubbing her hands.
“Yes. It’s my true passion. Blake thinks its silly.”
“Silly? I was an art major for a time in college, until my father told me to be more practical and get my teaching degree.” She sighed. “I married your father and never used it.”
“What?” asked Blake. “I never heard that.”
“I didn’t want you to think badly of your grandfather. A person should never stand in the way of someone’s dream.” His mother nodded emphatically.
Blake gripped the steering wheel. “When I told you I wanted to be a writer and major in English, you guys insisted I go pre-law instead.”