Pretending to Be Us

by Taylor Holloway

  He gathered me up in his arms after, rubbing my shoulders and wrists and whispering in my ear that I’d done wonderfully. All I could do was stare at him. I was spent.

  “I love you,” I told him as I was drifting off to sleep. “I hope you believe me.”

  He just smiled.

  53

  Lucy

  I woke up sore and smiling the next morning. I was cradled in cushions in a giant four poster bed that overlooked a sunlit, crystal smooth lake. My right wrist was still in a padded handcuff and I undid the gentle Velcro and rubbed my wrist. I felt like I’d just unlocked level two sex (very mild bondage). I wasn’t exactly sure how many levels there were, or if there was a limit I wouldn’t want to cross over, but at the moment I wanted to conquer them all under Peter’s expert tutelage. Sore had never felt so good.

  Peter was in the shower when I wandered into the adjacent bathroom, looking like something right out of my dreams. He smiled at me and I joined him there, feeling like the entire world had finally been set right. Better than right. Perfect.

  We’d talked and made love into the early hours of the morning. I was becoming pretty sure that this wasn’t all a dream. But it sure felt that way.

  The movie would premiere in Hollywood in a few weeks. The early reviews hit the internet right about the time Peter said he couldn’t fuck me again or he’d probably die of a heart attack. We’d read them together. Everybody loved it.

  “A honey-dipped love story with a surprisingly tart and satisfying aftertaste, Admit You Want Me is a better-than-you'd-expect adaptation of Emma William's bestselling novel of the same name.”

  “It's no secret that Mr. Prince is one of our most gifted young actors. Still, this is his first romantic lead, and he's superb -- interesting in his inwardness, endearing in his demonstrativeness. Ms. Bergen is sublime, channeling the best of old and new Hollywood in her debut role. She’s one to watch.”

  “An old-fashioned and occasionally schmaltzy movie that delivers an emotional wallop sure to elicit tears from all but those with truly intractable hearts.”

  “Beautiful, gentle, and dreamy, Admit You Want Me leads even the most bitter hearts back to hope through smart writing, inspired direction, and two perfect leads.”

  It felt like I’d won the world’s greatest lottery. And the cherry on top? Naked, wet Peter Prince wanted to soap me up the morning after. He washed my hair and then even conditioned it. What girl could ever want for more?

  “How do you feel?” Peter asked as we were toweling off. “Are you sore?”

  I shrugged. “A bit. But I feel good.”

  Peter’s early morning stubble and tousled wet hair lent a totally different look to him. An even sexier one. He noticed me staring and smiled.

  “You’ll read all that stuff?” he asked, referring to the giant stack of books on BDSM that I apparently needed to read and understand in order to approach his world of deviant sex with a healthy attitude.

  “Yes,” I promised, although I didn’t see why it was necessary. If I was happy and he was happy that ought to be enough. But he wanted me to do the homework, so I would. “I’ll read the instruction manual.”

  He grinned at me, but he also looked relieved. “Good.” I could tell he was scared that he’d hurt me either physically or emotionally. He was a good person. I was a very lucky woman. I looked around me at the opulence of Peter’s lake house. An almost unbelievably lucky woman.

  There was only one, tiny, issue.

  “Um, Peter,” I said, looking at the towel I was wearing and the pretty much shredded silk evening gown. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  Peter motioned toward the closet, but he wasn’t able to reply because of a sudden doorbell ring.

  “Who could that be?” I asked. It was only about seven a.m. It was a bit early for visitors.

  Peter frowned. “Let me go see.”

  He went downstairs and I wandered over to the closet wondering if there were any ex-girlfriend clothes in there. I didn’t see any, which made me happy. There were, however, plenty of Peter’s button-down shirts. My underthings were as destroyed as my dress was, but Peter’s shirts were just about perfect to be minidresses for me, so I picked out a nice dark blue one, put it on and tied a belt around my waist. I wasn’t going to win any Oscars for costume design, but it looked pretty okay, especially when coupled with my still somehow miraculously intact jewelry. I stared at my reflection in surprise. I looked pretty good.

  Having run out of things to do, I wandered down the stairs to find Wallace Prince standing in the kitchen with Peter.

  Crap.

  Wallace Prince was the one person who had not been at the premiere last night. He was also the person that I suspected would never, ever forgive me. I mean, of everybody, he was the one who cared most about my identity as Her Royal Highness Lucia. Would he ever like me now?

  “Hello,” I stuttered. Both men looked tense at my appearance. Peter sent what looked like a warning glance at his father.

  “Hello, Lucia,” Wallace said diplomatically. “I heard that the premiere went well last night.”

  I nodded. “I’m sorry you didn’t see the movie.”

  “Vanessa sent me the final cut.”

  “Did you like it?” I asked. If Wallace had the production and distribution rights to the film, he could still technically kill it. Why he’d let it premiere if he wanted to do that would be beyond me, but this conversation had me balanced on a knife’s edge.

  “I did,” he replied. “I have to admit, I really did enjoy it.”

  I smiled and Peter looked relieved.

  “I told you it was good,” Peter said proudly.

  “And you were right,” Wallace replied. Looking between me and Peter. “Looks like you were right about everything.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess this is the part where I say I was wrong and wish you both well.”

  My heart fluttered as the final piece of the puzzle fit into place. If Peter’s dad could accept me, the real me, then everything else would be okay. I exhaled in relief.

  “I’m sorry I lied to you,” I told him.

  He smiled. “I appreciate that. But don’t worry about it. In the end, I think the story actually makes the movie even more marketable.” He paused. “It’s cute, isn’t it? Plucky young actress cons eccentric tech billionaire into a film role and then kills it? That story is going to sound great during the press junket.”

  I squirmed. “I’d been hoping we could just, like, forget about that.”

  Peter and his dad both smirked. Finally, Peter grabbed my hand and kissed it tenderly. “Sorry, but actions have consequences, Princess. This is way too good to forget about.”

  Epilogue

  Peter

  When I took Lucy ‘home’ to the godawful motel where she’d been encamped, her Mormor lit up excitedly. While Lucy talked with her mom about the sudden, seismic shift in the family’s finances, I got set down again by an eighty-year-old Swedish woman, handed another plate of cookies, and run through the rest of the family photo album. I had no choice but to obey.

  “Here,” she said, pointing to a chair and showing off her English vocabulary. “Sit and look at these pictures with me.”

  “Do you speak English or not?” I asked, trying to figure out whether the old woman had just been messing with me

  “A bit,” she admitted. “Not that well.”

  “So, you were just pretending last time?” I raised an eyebrow at her. Why was I not surprised?

  She shrugged her narrow shoulders and settled her crocheted cardigan over them more securely. “You get a much better look at somebody when they think you can’t understand them,” she replied, proving that not only did she speak pretty much fluent English, but she was as clever and devious as her granddaughter and namesake. “Besides, I wasn’t sure if you were the same Peter that Lucy liked. If you were from the city to talk about our eviction, or from social services, I needed to stall you until Lucy and Dana got home.”


  “Very clever,” I said admiringly. “Your frail, foreign old lady act was very good. I was thoroughly convinced by it.”

  “Thank you. I try.” She also appeared to share Lucy’s dry sense of humor. “I’ll have you know that I delayed our eviction for months with this photobook.”

  “I can see where Lucy gets it from. You could be an actress yourself.”

  She just smiled modestly. “I teach my girls to look out for themselves,” she told me. “But Lucy never needed much encouragement to do that. She’s always had a mind of her own. And a lot of opinions.”

  “She certainly does.”

  “You’d better take good care of her,” she told me. Her grandmotherly looks might suggest vulnerability and sweetness, but it was obvious from the tone of her voice that Mormor was made of solid steel inside. “Lucy’s a special girl.”

  I blinked. “I will.”

  “Otherwise you’ll have to deal with me.”

  Dang. Okay old woman. I didn’t know quite what to make of that threat but if her acting skills were any indication, she might be a secret ninja or something. If I messed things up with Lucy, I could halfway imagine meeting Mormor in a dark alley and getting the business end of a katana in my chest. “Noted. For what it’s worth, I love her.”

  Mormor softened. “Yes, that’s obvious. And she loves you.” She paused. “But still, you better watch yourself, young man.” She picked up a cookie and handed it to me. I accepted it carefully, hoping it wasn’t poisoned. “Alright then. Let’s look at these pictures,” she said, returning to the sweet, gentle persona I’d seen previously. She plopped the photobook open to where we’d left off. “I want to show you all of Lucia’s awkward preteen years.”

  “How’d it go with Mormor?” Lucy asked when we were leaving, many hours later. “I hope she didn’t talk your ear off in Swedish again.”

  “She speaks perfect English,” I remarked. “You might have told me.”

  Lucy shook her head and looked at me in confusion. “What? No, she doesn’t. She understands pretty well, but she can only reply in simple sentences and a lot of the vocabulary isn’t there.”

  “Lucy, we had a whole conversation about you.”

  She laughed. “She was probably just repeating what she heard on TV.”

  “Seriously?”

  “She doesn’t understand what she's saying. She can make the sounds, but it’s just repetition. I’ve lived with her for years. I think I would know if she spoke English.”

  I frowned. Was Lucy messing with me? Or had Mormor actually conned her own daughter and granddaughter into thinking she didn’t speak English.

  “Um, Lucy, we had a real conversation. She pretty much threatened to shank me if I mistreated you.”

  Lucy giggled. “Mormor threatened you?” She shook her head. “What has she been watching?”

  I was gob smacked. Lucy was entirely serious.

  “You honestly think she doesn’t speak English?” I repeated.

  Good lord, this family. They were full of all kinds of tricks. I’d really need to watch myself. I wondered what Lucy’s mom would be like. We’d barely talked at all. She was probably in the CIA.

  “I promise Mormor doesn’t speak enough English to have a conversation with you. She was just stringing together words”

  For one, that's not how language works. For two, Lucy seemed far too clever to be taken in by this act. But then again, Mormor’s old lady act had been really convincing...

  “Okay,” I said. “But she also showed me this.”

  I pulled a picture out of my pocket. Lucy gaped and grabbed it out of my hands. Her instant mortification was evident.

  “I never wanted you to see this,” she said, clearly wishing she could erase it from my memory.

  The photo was taken years ago at Dallas Community Theater. I’d been doing my first children’s theater production, getting into acting for the very first time. I’d been cast as the prince in Snow White. In the picture I was wearing a silly-looking green unitard thing, red hat, and yellow sash. My boots were pointy. I’d been all of ten years old and looked utterly silly, but I clearly thought I was hot shit. I was grinning like I was already a bigtime movie star.

  Lucy wasn’t smiling. She’d been cast as a dwarf. And not just any dwarf. Dopey. She was wearing an oversized green robe and purple hat. She was making a particularly dopey face as well, staring at me openmouthed as if in awe. It was adorable.

  “I knew we’d met before.” I told Lucy. “I knew I’d seen you before. I told you at the audition, remember?”

  She nodded, cringing. “Yeah. I remember. I also remember playing Dopey. I was so excited to get a real role. I didn’t realize until I showed up to the first rehearsal that I was not playing the princess. I was playing a dwarf. A nearly-mute, stupid dwarf.” She was blushing. “Then I found out that the prince was actually a Prince. As in, the kid of the famous tech guy. I was starstruck.”

  “You look cute.”

  “I look ridiculous.” she replied, blushing even more deeply. She turned the photo over in my hands and I turned it right back upright. She didn’t know it yet, but I was going to make this photo my phone background so I could look at it all the time. I was going to have it blown up and framed in my house. I loved this photo. Not only did it show that we’d been destined from the start, but Lucy looked so damn cute in it that I could hardly stand it.

  “Ridiculously cute you mean.”

  “Peter...” Her tone was a warning.

  I grinned at her. “Well, you got to play the princess in the end, didn’t you?”

  She softened. “I guess so,” she conceded, still embarrassed but giving in and smiling. “I even got the Prince.”

  I kissed her on the forehead. “You certainly did.”

  If you enjoyed ‘Pretending To Be Us’, you’re going to love the other nine books in the Lone Star Lovers series. All the books in the series share locations, events, and characters. See more of Ward, Emma, and other familiar characters as they make their sweet and sexy journeys toward their own HEA’s.

  ‘Admit You Want Me’ is the first book in the Lone Star Lovers series. This steamy second-chance romance features shy grad student Emma and her alpha jock Ward. Click here to read it now or turn the page for a sample.

  Already read ‘Admit You Want Me’? Skip past the teaser for a sneak peek at ‘Baby and the Beast’!

  Admit You Want Me

  Special Teaser

  ‘Admit You Want Me’ is the first book in the Lone Star Lovers series, featuring Emma and Ward.

  Prologue: Emma

  “Come on, Emma!” Kate cried, banging on my bedroom door for the fifth or sixth time. “You can’t hide in there forever. I’m sure you look fine. People are going to be here soon.”

  I glanced at the clock. She was right. It was almost go time. I slid into my green, marabou trimmed boudoir slippers and straightened my sheer tights. I had a bad feeling that I looked more than a little bit like a stripper.

  “Just a second,” I yelled. “I’m almost ready.”

  I frowned at my reflection in the mirror, poked at my fake eyelashes, and adjusted the mesh and wire wings strapped to my back. The wings were already annoying me, but not as much as the length of my dress.

  My Tinkerbell costume was much sexier and more revealing than I’d thought it would be when I bought it online. My boobs were threatening to spill out of the bright green satin bustier, and the nearly transparent matching skirt just barely made it halfway down my thighs. This is what I got for trusting the photographs on eBay. It would just have to do. The only other option at this point was cutting a couple of eye holes in a sheet and going to our Halloween party as a ghost.

  “Wow,” Kate stammered when I opened the door a second later. “You look amazing!”

  I smiled nervously. “It’s not too slutty?”

  Kate shook her head. “It’s the exactly right amount of slutty. The fact that it’s your real hair up there in that silly bun is w
hat makes it.”

  Kate was blonde for Halloween too, but her flowing, gold Rapunzel hair was a wig. Our Halloween party was Disney themed and our apartment looked a bit like a five-year-old’s birthday party (but with way more booze). I grabbed myself a cup of the pink punch and tried to work myself up for being social.

  My current pair of wings notwithstanding, I was not a natural social butterfly like Kate. If it wasn’t for her, I probably wouldn’t have any friends. Moving in with Kate at the beginning of my sophomore year was the best decision I could have made for my social life, even if it meant living inside a kegger one night a week. This Halloween party promised to be no exception.

  Costumed people began to trickle into our apartment, armed with beer, smiles, and excitement. I struggled to fit in. After the disaster that was my freshman year at a school back east, coming to the University of Texas had been a case of serious culture shock. They don’t call it a party school for nothing, and I’m a natural introvert and a bit of a nerd. Before coming here, I’d never had a drop to drink.

  Unluckily for my liver, I was also a quick study. I’d determined that I hated most beer, most wine, and anything with a harsh liquor taste, but I loved anything sweet and fruity. Thankfully, Austin had a number of local breweries that specialized in ciders, shandies, and even sour beers.

  “Are fairies supposed to be drinking, Tinkerbell?” someone asked me when I went to grab another apple cider from the fridge. I spun around and straightened, surprised.

  Kate’s brother, Ward, was leaning against the door. I hadn’t realized that he’d followed me. I straightened abruptly, hoping my ass hadn’t been totally exposed by my tiny skirt when I bent over.