by Jean Oram
Yup. Lame. That’s what Jill was. But she had come to terms with that fact eons ago and appreciated that Zeb called her every so often to chat about their matches.
“We have a man for you! He’s very interested in your profile and the two of you score well in the compatibility department.”
“I’m not sure this is the best time for me…” Jill began. She probably should put her subscription on hold or something until she was officially divorced.
“You won’t want to drag your feet or he’ll be snapped up. He’s a catch.” Zebadiah lowered his voice. “He’s got a five-year plan.”
A five-year plan was her weakness. Like a man’s six-pack abs were to her sister.
“I’ll shoot his profile over to you via email.”
Jill put Zeb on speaker and tapped into her email. She winced. “Um…he’s not quite my type.”
“He puts a checkmark in all the boxes.”
“Maybe there should be one for hygiene. He didn’t even wash or comb his hair for his profile photo, Zeb.” She sighed. “I know I’m being finicky, but…” Her mind shot to Burke. He was the kind of man with a five-year plan—as well as one for the next ten years, and maybe even twenty—despite his spontaneous whimsical nature, and he managed to do more than simply roll out of bed each morning and smile for a camera.
Keep your standards high. Your next husband is forever.
Well, the one after Burke, she thought with a sigh.
“No, no problem,” Zeb said smoothly. “I get ya. I’ll keep looking. Just remember—you’re not getting any younger, and these men aren’t, either.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” She hung up and gave herself a moment. Why was this so difficult? She’d filled out personality profiles, taken their matchmaking tests and so far they’d found nobody.
She was one step away from letting Blueberry Springs find her next man.
Her stomach growled again, reminding her of her interrupted task of preparing a snack. She began reading a text from her dad as she walked to the break room.
I put Tay-Tay in your car. He said he misses you.
Jill peeked out the window, spying her SUV parked alongside the building. Her dad had taken Taylor, her Great Pyrenees, for a walk, as he did almost daily since his heart attack a year and a half ago. He’d given her the pup when things had finally fallen through with Devon Mattson and she’d been down and out. He’d handed over the stray and told her to “shake it off.” At first Jill had thought he was talking to the dog about the dirt matted into his white fur. Turned out he was talking to her and the funk that had settled like a cloud. She’d ended up with the Taylor Swift song “Shake It Off” stuck in her head and had named the dog Taylor, which her dad jokingly changed to Tay-Tay.
Really? Jill typed back. Taylor misses me?
Yup.
Not a chance.
Sure you weren’t out to sneak a burger and couldn’t take Taylor inside the restaurant?
Maybe.
Jill chuckled to herself. The March evening was unseasonably warm, but still chilly, and she knew Taylor, a massively furry hundred-pound beast, would be comfortable sleeping in the cozy vehicle until she was ready to head home.
The microwave dinged and Jill broke open the bag of popcorn, inhaling deeply. Best supper ever and it smelled divine.
She definitely needed to leave Taylor outside. The dog would practically smother her trying to get at his favorite food, popcorn. And who could say no to those big brown eyes?
Jill squeaked when she exited the break room, her popcorn flying into the air as she delivered a chop to the intruder’s gut.
“Oomph!”
Jill jumped back as she processed the fact that the intruder was actually her boss’s husband, Luke Cohen, the man in charge of practically half the company. “Oh, Luke! I’m so sorry.” She fluttered around him, feeling horrible. “Are you okay?”
He groaned and placed a hand against the doorjamb. “You pack a bit of a wallop.”
Jill moved from foot to foot, adrenaline still flowing through her veins. “My dad taught me self-defense.”
“He did well.” Luke winced as he straightened.
“I thought I had the building to myself.”
“Sorry. I came in to dig out the contract for the new greenhouse conveyor. It’s acting up and the overseas support team should be just coming in to work about now.”
“I have the contract in my filing cabinet if you need to reference it.”
“Thanks. That would be helpful.”
Jill crunched over the spilled popcorn, heading to her office.
“I’ll grab a broom,” Luke said.
“Nah, I’ll just let my dog in. He makes an awesome cleanup crew.” Jill walked to her filing cabinet, pulled out the contract and handed it over.
Luke let out a low whistle as he took in the color-coded binders lining the shelf above her computer, and just below it, the perfect row of sticky notes detailing her next workday. As she completed each task, the note came down.
“I should hire you to organize my desk.”
“That would be so much fun.”
“And my car. And my closet.”
“Do you have a tie rack? I love tie racks.”
“Yes,” he said with a smile. He turned to the door, the contract in hand. “I think you missed your calling. You should be a professional organizer.”
“Thanks. You know, your office isn’t that bad,” she called after him. He didn’t spend much time in there, which helped.
“It’s because I spread things out, so you don’t notice as much.”
“It sounds like you’re making excuses for not being a slob,” she joked.
“You know it.”
“Hey, Luke?”
“Yeah?” He came back a step or two.
“I, um…” Jill suddenly felt nervous. “I’m wondering if you would be willing to fund my project.”
“You have something new?” he asked.
“Well, no.” She’d already talked to Luke before he turned over the CEO reins of Cohen’s Blissful Body Care to his cousin Cash Campbell. She’d been hoping Luke’s company would like to partner with hers. But hers was too small, their needs too great. It had been the same with Emma’s business, only a little less of a match in terms of product and market.
Luke was waiting for her to explain herself.
“I revamped my business plan.” And she had. She’d spent her lunch restructuring her proposal so it was easier to see what she had to offer.
“Oh?” Luke took a step toward her office.
Excited, she pulled out the glossy-covered package.
Luke took it and asked, “What’s new?”
“I honed it.”
“It was already quite honed.”
“I highlighted my priorities, my purpose. How to be more productive with my growth.”
Luke had flipped to the final page. “But your projections are still the same, and still very conservative.”
“I don’t want to be a flash in the pan. I’ve got a financial advisor and accountant already taking care of everything on the money side. Taxes. Paying bills. Everything.” Nothing would be missed. No bills slipping through the cracks and going unpaid. No charming scallywags “helping her out” and stealing everything instead.
“You’re still too conservative,” Luke said. “You need to stretch, reach and challenge yourself. Take some risks, relinquish some control and leave room for the unexpected. That’s the only way. There isn’t room for growth in here.”
“The unexpected is unreliable.”
“This is how to make a hobby cover its costs,” he said gently, handing back the packet. “Unfortunately, I can’t afford to finance hobbies.”
Jill clutched the papers, crestfallen. “I know it’s not as aggressive as it was before, but I’m working full-time now and I don’t want to miss anything by overtaxing myself.”
“Have you considered that maybe being an entrepreneur isn’t the righ
t fit for you?”
She nodded, her throat thick. She’d made promises to Burke as well as to Rebecca.
She was going to keep them.
She just couldn’t quite figure out how.
Burke straightened his suit jacket, thinking of Jill. She still hadn’t returned the one he’d loaned her—his favorite—when her blouse buttons had exploded. There was something about the jacket’s cut that always made him feel capable of taking on anything when he wore it. Including the governor, who’d asked him to meet for dinner to discuss taxation.
But tonight there was no lucky jacket to prop him up. It was just himself and his favorite crisp, white shirt and a subpar jacket.
From the doorway of the restaurant overlooking the city’s small lake, he scanned the patrons, keeping an eye out for Governor Martinez. After talking to his aunt yesterday, Burke had thought he was going to have to keep Jill despite the risks associated in doing so. But then, like the all-clear after having firefighters crawling all over your smoking home, the governor’s assistant had called, asking him to meet the man for dinner.
At long last, it was time to usher in tax breaks and financial incentives for green companies. The government was finally going to help those who were trying to make a change that would benefit the environment. The breaks likely wouldn’t come into effect immediately, but they’d be something his company could bank on. The first foothold in the wall he was trying to scale without a harness.
“Mr. Carver, right this way,” said the maître d’.
Burke followed the man, spotting Autumn Martinez’s signature French twist from across the room. Why was she here? Had the Martinez family found out about his wife and were they going to confront him for never mentioning it? But why couldn’t he see her father—was he glad-handing the room?
Speaking of which, Burke stopped as he passed the mayor’s table.
“Any tax breaks on the horizon?” he asked lightly. The question had become a bit of a joke between the two of them.
“Is that all you talk about?” the mayor retorted, eyes dancing as he ribbed him.
Burke smiled, his next line ready, as per their informal script. “Until you put some through to help support green initiatives, yes.”
The mayor laughed good-naturedly. “I’ll ask to have it put on the agenda again, but you know how it is. Times are tight and tax breaks cost money.”
Burke went off script. “You know…they could actually pay off in the long run for the city’s economy. Bring in more businesses such as mine. More jobs, more spending. We’d all still be paying taxes, just at an incentivized rate. We could shoulder some of those parks and recreation expansion plans around town, too.”
The mayor nodded in a way that left Burke uncertain whether he’d been heard or whether he was just being humored. Then the man gestured toward Autumn, who was sitting a few tables over. “Don’t keep your woman waiting. She’s been here at least ten minutes.”
Your woman?
Burke saluted him casually before making his way to Autumn’s table, the maître d’ pulling a chair out for him upon arrival.
“Hello,” Burke said, sliding into the seat across from Autumn. “I presume you’ll be joining your father and me tonight?”
Her smile lit up her eyes, and she shifted the linen napkin over her lap. He found the wine bottle, when he pulled it out of the ice bucket beside their table, was rather light.
“Silly man,” Autumn said coyly, one expertly curled tendril of jet-black hair curving along her high-boned features as she tipped her head to the side. “This is a date. Just you and me.”
Burke gripped the edge of the table, pushing back in his chair. There was a rushing sound in his ears. He’d been suckered into thinking he had a lifeline, and had told Andrea, his overly pregnant financial officer, to stay late prepping possible new tax scenarios so he could approach potential partners first thing in the morning with updated financial proposals.
And for what? A setup? Andrea should be at home with her feet up and a heating pad on her aching back.
“I planned this for us,” Autumn cooed as she snagged his right hand, pulling it across the table toward her. “You’ve been so busy. I hardly see you.”
“I’ve been working on an expansion, beating the streets trying to find ways to keep our company in-state.” He tried to squirrel his hand away from hers. “It’s very intensive.”
“Oh, sweetie. You work too hard.”
“It would be easier and more financially viable to move everything overseas, where labor and business costs are cheaper.”
She gave a disinterested “hmm.” So much for that tidbit making its way back to the governor, to light a fire under him.
Autumn frowned at Burke’s wrist, which she’d barely relinquished and was now yanking her way again. She pushed up his shirtsleeve.
“What’s this? A tattoo?” She scowled at the black ink. “What is it? A hook? A comma? What’s it supposed to mean?”
He gripped the edge of the fabric, jerking the cuff back over the inch-long, off-centered mark.
“Why did you get it?” Autumn asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Burke, this is the problem with you. It’s hard to have a boyfriend who doesn’t talk. Who doesn’t open up.” She was using a soft expression. As if conversing with a wounded kitten. Speaking of which, there was a good chance Fluke was trashing his place as a thanks for being abandoned for the evening. They had a routine. Burke came home, ate, then worked with the cat curled at his side on the couch. When he broke the routine, he often came home to find the cat had eaten a houseplant.
From the corner of his eye, Burke saw Tiffer Garbanzo frowning at him from across the restaurant. Didn’t that man ever eat at home? He was the last person Burke wanted to see right now.
“I should probably go,” he said uneasily.
Autumn pouted. “But you just got here.” Her eyes sharpened. “You have time to dine with my father, but not me?”
“Your father and I were to discuss business. If he’s unable to be here, then I need to get back to work.” He stood. “I’m sorry, Autumn. You’re a lovely woman, but I don’t want to lead you on. I simply don’t have time for a girlfriend right now.”
“You make me sound needy.”
“That’s not my intention.” He bent to place a kiss on her cheek, just missing her lips as she turned to try and make it something other than a polite, chaste goodbye.
“Is this about the other woman?” Autumn said, as Burke stepped away from the table, her voice level.
Burke stopped in his tracks, turned back. “I’m sorry?”
“The woman from last week.” She was staring at her wineglass, her face expressionless.
Woman. Not wife.
Burke let out a sigh of relief.
He could only imagine how she would feel if she found out he’d been married while attending events with her.
“You kissed her in MacKenzie’s.”
“I did,” Burke admitted.
“I saw the pictures.”
Wincing at the way he had undoubtedly hurt Autumn’s feelings, Burke decided it was best to sit and hopefully avoid a scene.
He glanced at Tiffer, who was, as expected, subtly watching things play out.
Burke hated that he could so easily be painted as a two-timing good-for-nothing. He’d always tried to be better than that.
“It’s me or her.”
“What?” Burke turned his focus to Autumn.
“Me. Or her.” Her expression was stony. “I don’t share my men.”
Burke gaped at her. They’d cut a few ribbons at grand openings, had a few laughs and maybe one or two chaste good-night kisses. She couldn’t possibly think things were that…real. Heck, things were more real with Jill—and not just because they were legally married.
Autumn stood, towering over the table in her five-inch heels. “I’m telling Daddy.”
“Autumn…”
“I don’t like
being used, and he told me you were nice. I chose you even though you’re not rich, because you’d make a good husband.”
Whoa! Husband?
“I’m sorry if I made you feel like we were more than—than…” He was at a loss for words. “Friends.”
“Friends? Friends?”
Burke searched desperately for a way to save this. Not just because of the tax implications of being on Autumn’s bad side, but because he really couldn’t afford to have Tiffer thinking he was the awful man that events were lining up to make him appear.
“I’m the kind of man women leave,” he said calmly. “Women don’t marry men like me.” He drew up short. Not the best thing to say when he was, in fact, married.
Secretly.
Secrets never stayed secret though, did they?
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am.”
“No. Don’t you dare tell me you’re incapable of love as some excuse to shake me. I know what we have and it’s special. I will not tolerate you running away.”
“Autumn…” He summoned patience and strength.
She lifted her glass of red wine, flinging its liquid in his direction, her mouth twisted as she had her temper tantrum at his expense. But the rim of the glass curved the liquid upward, creating an arc over the table and splattering them both instead of landing in his face.
Burke could feel Tiffer smirking from across the room, and practically see their potential deal flying out the window.
When he looked up, Autumn was already storming away, leaving him at the table with white shirt cuffs splattered with what looked like blood.
“We need to stay married.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Jill asked, staring at Burke. He had been waiting for her in the parking lot outside of All You in Blueberry Springs. How had he known she was working late?
“We need to stay married,” he repeated.
“Let’s move to my car,” Jill said, shivering in what had been a lovely pre-spring wind rolling off the mountains earlier, and was now starting to nip with a bone-chilling ferocity. A sure sign they were in for some interesting weather tomorrow.
Taylor woke up as she unlocked the car, letting out a low woof of hello before seeing Burke, which sent him into a barking frenzy. One hundred pounds of fur and loyalty jumped into the front seat, spraying spittle across the windshield.