“I should go.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know, but I should.”
Max nods.
“You’re probably right.”
“Probably.”
It only takes a minute to gather my things. I sling my bag over my shoulder and hold it close as I look up at him. He has a hint of stubble across his jaw, and his hair is completely disheveled. His eyes are bright, and his lips are still glistening from our kiss.
He looks so perfectly kissable right now.
I bite my lip.
“So…”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says. “We probably need to figure out the details of this…” he waves his hand. “Whatever this is. This engagement.”
“Okay,” I reply. No turning back now.
“I’ll cancel my physio appointment for tomorrow. I have some paperwork to figure out, and I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position. Maybe I can take you out to dinner?”
I nod. “Sure.”
He leans down and kisses me again. It’s soft, and tender. It’s intimate, even though it only lasts a second. His hand lingers on my cheek, his face just next to mine.
“I won’t do that if you don’t want me to.”
“It’s okay,” I reply, brushing my hand against his. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
By the time I get to my car, my hands are shaking. I slide into the driver’s seat and close my eyes. I gulp down air as if I’ve been drowning and my head has just broken the surface. It takes a few minutes for me to regain my composure. I put my hands on the steering wheel, and I take another deep breath.
With my hands still shaking, I dial Ariana.
“Hey,” I say when she answers.
“Hey, girl,” she says. “You okay?”
“I think so. Can I come over?”
“Of course. Meg is here, too.”
“Perfect.”
“You want us to get the wine ready?”
“It’s like you read my mind,” I laugh. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”
When I hang up, I feel calmer already. The girls will be able to ground me. If I tell them what’s going on, they’ll be able to let me know if I’m being absolutely crazy or not.
Too much has happened today. From Max’s first proposal—if you can call it that—to finding out about my mom’s cancer and the foreclosure on the house, and then to dealing with Max’s parents… I just need some time with people that I trust, people that have been there for me.
I practically run up the steps to Ariana’s apartment, and she opens the door with her arms wide open. Meg isn’t far behind with a glass of wine in one hand and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s in the other. Before I know it, tears are streaming down my face. They don’t ask me anything, they don’t say anything, they just sit me down and fill me with wine and ice cream and laughter.
“Naomi,” Ariana starts. “I have to tell you about last night. I ended up going home with this guy Rolf.”
“Rolf?”
“Literally Rolf. R-O-L-F. I made him show me his ID because I didn’t believe that was his name. He was Swedish and he looked like the guy from True Blood.”
I laugh. “Hot.”
“To look at, yeah, he was perfect. I couldn’t understand anything he was saying, though,” Ariana laughs. “But you know, he got the job done.” She winks and I laugh some more. My shoulders relax a little and I take a sip of wine.
“Were you still at the bar when Julia was dancing on the table?” Meg asks, dumping a bag of chips into a bowl.
“No, when was that?!”
“Must have been one in the morning, or something. She fell off and smashed one of the chairs. That’s why we got thrown out.”
“You got thrown out?!” That makes me laugh so hard I get a stitch in my side. Tears are streaming down my face, but this time I don’t mind. My heart feels light. We lean against each other, laughing and eating and drinking until Ariana puts her hand on my leg and looks me in the eye.
“So what’s up, Naomi? How’s your mom?”
My lip trembles and my chest squeezes, and I can’t even get a single word out. Meg scoots closer and puts her arm around my shoulder.
“Just tell us when you’re ready,” she says softly. “Shh. Tell us when you’re ready.”
I make a weird snorting, sniffling, hiccupping sound as I try to talk just as a huge sob racks my body, and then I try to laugh and another weird snorting sound comes out of me.
Ariana laughs, grabbing a box of tissues and handing them to me. “That bad, huh?”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
I look at my friends as the tears fill my eyes, and they just hug me until I’m able to talk.
Chapter 15 - Max
I park my car outside her office and glance at the clock. I’m early—Naomi won’t be done work for another fifteen minutes. I check my hair in the rear view mirror, smoothing my eyebrows and making sure my breath is okay. I pop a mint in my mouth just for good measure.
I don’t even know what I’m expecting. My whole body has been on edge ever since we kissed. My shirt collar is rubbing against the back of my neck, and I adjust it and then turn up the air conditioning. Is it just me, or is it warm in here?
Every radio channel seems to have commercials on, so I plug in my phone and put on some music. I can’t settle. I glance at the clock again, and jump when someone knocks on the passenger’s side window. I lean over and open the door for Naomi and she slides in.
“Hey,” she said.
“You’re done early.”
She looks at her phone. “Seven whole minutes,” she says with her eyebrow raised. “Are you sure you want to fake-marry such a rebel?”
“What can I say, trouble excites me,” I grin, turning the engine on and revving it as I wiggle my eyebrows. Naomi laughs, and I know I’d do anything to make her smile again.
“So where are we going? You look nice,” she says, eyeing my shirt and dress pants. “Thanks for the warning,” she says as she smooths her skirt over her legs.
“I’m taking you out.”
“Is that all I get? No hints, no nothing?”
“No nothing,” I grin as I pull out of the parking spot. “Just relax.”
“Wow, my fake fiancé is fake wooing me, I like it.”
“Will you stop calling me your fake fiancé?” I laugh. “It’s weird.”
“It’s true,” she retorts, glancing at me. “I thought we were just discussing the terms of our agreement, I didn’t know this was, you know, a date.”
“Is that a bad thing? We should get to know each other a little if this is going to work. And it should be as realistic as possible.”
Naomi doesn’t answer, she just shoots me a side-eye look and takes a deep breath. My heart squeezes, and I stare out the windscreen. It feels like all the blood in my body is rushing between my legs and I can’t think straight.
“So you’re not telling me where we’re going?” She asks, peering out the window.
“No, it’s a surprise.”
“Well, if we’re getting to know each other, one thing you should know about me is that I hate surprises.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” she replies, glancing at me. “So last night was basically my worst nightmare. You owe me, big time.”
“Big time, eh?” I grin. Her eyes sparkle and her lips tug at the corners.
“Uh-huh,” she nods. “I saved your ass. In fact, I’m still saving your ass.”
“Out of the goodness of your heart?” I ask, turning down a side street towards the restaurant. I’m taking her to New York’s hottest new Japanese-fusion degustation restaurant. It’s not even open to the public yet, and I can’t wait to take Naomi. When she said she’d go out with me tonight, I knew I’d take her here.
“Yes, saving your ass out of the goodness of my heart,” she laughs. “I’m just a great person, you know.”
“Nothing to do with the t
wo hundred and fifty grand coming your way?”
“Three hundred, after last night,” she grins. “That’s the fee for surprises.”
“Right,” I chuckle. “You drive a hard bargain.”
She turns towards me and her eyes flash. She lets her gaze drop down my body and a blush creeps over her cheeks, and then she turns away, leaning arm against the window. She bites her lip and a thrill rushes through my body.
I want her.
Ever since we kissed, I haven’t been able to think about anything except her lips, and the feeling of her body against mine.
Naomi takes a deep breath, turning towards me. “Listen, Max, about last night—”
“It’s okay,” I say. “You don’t have to say it.”
“No, I do. I just think that if we’re going to do this whole engagement thing, we can’t be getting involved. It’ll just be too complicated. We need to just treat this like a business relationship. You know, with boundaries. Like we can kiss and be affectionate in public when necessary, but that’s where we should draw the line. Nothing… you know. Last night…” She takes a deep breath.
“You’re right,” I say. “I agree,” even though I hate the thought of never kissing her again.
I make another turn and stop outside a nondescript black door. A valet appears, and I drop my keys in her hand. Another valet opens Naomi’s door and helps her out of the car. She stands up, glancing towards me over the roof of the car with wide eyes.
I adjust my shirt and walk over to her, holding out my arm for her. She hooks her hand into the crook of my elbow, leaning into me.
“Is this Yomoyori?” She whispers as a thick black curtain is opened for us. I put my hand over hers and squeeze it. She looks up at me, jaw agape. “I’m not dressed for this.”
“You look incredible, Naomi,” I grin. She’s wearing a simple black dress, and against her pale skin and red hair it makes her look like a goddess.
But I might be biased, I think she looks incredible in her work uniform, too.
The Maitre D greets us and ushers us through a sensual, dark foyer and towards a booth at the back of the restaurant. Waiters bring wine and menus to start, and explain how the degustation is going to work. When they walk away, Naomi grins and shakes her head. A candle on the table flickers, giving her skin a soft, ethereal glow.
“I can’t believe you’ve taken me here,” she says. “I didn’t even know this was open yet!”
“It’s not,” I answer. “Well, not really. I know the chef.”
“Of course you do,” she laughs as the waiter brings the first course. He rattles off a string of ingredients that I don’t listen to, and pours us a new wine to pair with the food.
“Thank you,” Naomi smiles at him, and then turns to me, shaking her head. “This is supposed to be a business dinner.”
“Is it?”
“Yes,” she laughs. “But this food does look delicious, so I’ll allow it.”
“We can talk business if you want, but I thought it would be nice to, you know, act like a couple. Might make it easier to pretend like we’re together if we’ve done the whole first date awkward questions thing already.”
Naomi grins, sipping her wine and shaking her head.
“What kind of first dates have you been on? What’s the ‘first date awkward questions thing’?”
“You know, you’ll ask me about my ex, and I’ll answer that we just parted ways or some generic answer that doesn’t mean anything, and then you’ll tell me about your ex. Then we’ll ask each other how many siblings we have. We’ll talk about a lot of things that don’t really matter, but we’ll know a lot of facts about each other.”
“We’ve already covered both of those.” Naomi’s eyes look dark in the candlelight. “You told me about your ex, and we’re both only children.”
“Right. Well, I don’t know then,” I pick up the wine glass, looking at the dark red liquid for answers. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Well, I’m not six years old, so I don’t have one,” Naomi laughs. “Do people actually ask each other these things? Is this what dating is like?”
I laugh along with her, shaking my head. “I don’t know, I’m usually half-cut at a bar when I’m talking to women. They usually just want my money, and I usually just want sex. This,” I gesture between the two of us. “I’m not sure how to qualify this.”
“Stop trying to put me in a box,” she says, staring at me over her wine. She glances down at her food and picks up her fork, grinning at me. “We’re wasting precious eating time talking about things that don’t matter.”
“True.”
Naomi takes a bite, closing her eyes and moaning as the food hits her tongue. My cock jumps in my pants, and I shift in my seat. She moans again, nodding and pointing her fork at the plate. I take my first bite, and it’s my turn to moan. We chew, nodding at each other, pointing at the food, and moving our eyebrows, quickly dissolving into laughter.
I wash down the food with wine, and then I reach my hand across the table. Naomi puts her palm against mine, staring into my eyes.
I take a moment to build up the courage to ask her something real. She’s staring at me as if she’s expecting it, so I take a deep breath and go for it.
“What made you change your mind?”
Chapter 16 - Naomi
“What do you mean?” I know what he means, but I’m stalling.
“About this whole thing. About us—about me. When I left you yesterday morning, you looked like you were going to say no. And then after you saw your mom, you told me you’d do it.”
I pull my hand away from his, grabbing my wine glass and taking a sip. When I put it back down, the waiter appears with our second course. I try to listen to him explain what the second course in front of me is, but most of it doesn’t look like any kind of dinner I’ve had before.
We thank him, and he leaves.
Max is still staring at me, and the question hangs between us. I’m not sure what to say. I hardly know this guy—should I tell him about my mom? We’ve agreed to do this crazy engagement, but the whole thing could blow up in my face.
Do I trust Max enough to open up to him?
I take a deep breath, looking at him again. His eyes are soft, and he’s waiting patiently for me to speak. A wave of comfort washes over me, and I think about what he said when we first got here. If this whole charade is going to work, we’re going to have to act like a couple.
I’m going to have to open up to him.
“I found out my mom has breast cancer,” I say, staring at my plate. There’s a single asparagus balancing on what looks like a fancy meatball. “She told me when I confronted her about foreclosure notice I found on Sunday.”
My voice chokes as the words stick to my throat. I clear my throat, washing down the pain with a sip of wine.
“I’m so sorry,” Max says. He looks down at the table between us, staring at nothing. “I’m sorry. If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have—I don’t want to put you in this position.”
“No!” I say, maybe a bit too loud. “This is helping me out. I—” I want this? “I need the money.”
“Right.”
“And plus,” I say, stabbing the fancy meatball. “Hanging out with you is alright.”
His eyes flick up towards me and a grin appears on his perfect lips. How is it possible for one man to be so handsome? He forks his own meatball and nods to me.
“Hanging out with you isn’t so bad, either.”
I laugh, blinking back the tears that had misted my eyes when I mentioned my mom. “Good. That means we’re miles ahead of half the married couples out there already.”
The meatball tastes incredible. I don’t know what they’ve done, but it’s so packed with flavor that I can’t help but close my eyes and grunt in satisfaction. I’ve never tasted food this good.
“So last night,” I start. “Your parents.”
“I’m so, so sorry about that,” Max interrupts.
Max blows the air out of his mouth, leaning back in his chair and running his fingers through his thick, black hair. His eyes look almost navy in this light, and the candlelight is making his jaw look like it’s chiseled from marble. A delicious tingle of energy passes through my spine and settles in the base of my stomach.
“Why do they want you to get married so badly?”
“I’m not sure,” Max says. He looks at me, cocking his head to the side. “They’ve always been putting pressure on me, but this time…”
“What?” I ask gently when he stops.
“I don’t know. I feel like there’s something else going on. I can’t put my finger on it. I mean, they’ve always been… overbearing? That’s not the right word. They’ve always been involved, I guess. But they’ve never shown up without warning or told me that I needed to get married or get fucking disowned.”
He chuckles bitterly, shaking his head.
“I mean, I shouldn’t complain. It could be worse.” He looks at me, and I smile sadly.
“Yeah.”
The next couple of courses are as delicious as the first two, and our conversation turns to lighter things. He tells me about his work, and his knee, and about college football. I tell him about Meg and Ariana, and about how I got into physical therapy.
Conversation is easy. We laugh and joke. He gets my sarcasm, and quips back whenever I say something snarky. It’s fun.
By the time dessert comes, he’s talking about his injury.
“I was supposed to be in the NFL the year after. We were winning the championship and then I got tackled from behind and my knee just snapped. It wasn’t just my knee,” he says, staring into his wine glass. “I mean, my whole future was destroyed. NFL, football, my girlfriend left me,” he sighs. “It was a hard time.”
“I’m so sorry, Max,” I say, reaching over to put my hand on his arm. Even though I told him I didn’t want to do anything sexual with him, the electricity courses through my body when we touch. He puts his hand over mine, and we stay like that for a few minutes.
Engaged to Mr. Right: A Fake Marriage Romance (Mr. Right Series Book 1) Page 7