The Fake Date Agreement (Awkward Arrangements Book 1)

by Tanya Gallagher

  “Maybe later,” I say and release the napkin from my hand.

  “Just say the word.” Greer traces her fingers over the front of her menu, then leans forward with a sparkle in her eyes. “I know what can make you feel better.”

  Sex? Hot, indulgent, earth-shattering sex? If so, sign me up.

  “Pizza?” I guess instead.

  Greer grins at me. “For starters. But I’ve got another idea.” She laughs at the expression that must be on my face. “Not that, Locke,” she says as if reading my mind. “But those sexy arms and brute strength will come into play.”

  I lean forward, and my breath turns into a growl. “You think my arms are sexy?”

  Her face turns pink. “I will neither confirm nor deny that statement.” She bites her lip in a way that makes me want to take her in the back room and show her just what my arms can do. But then she drops a menu into my hands with a smile. “It’s a surprise. Now eat up.”

  19

  Greer

  “A Christmas tree?” Locke stares at the tiny tree lot next to Seattle Pops with an unreadable expression on his face.

  The glow from a strand of white Christmas lights strung across the lot highlights his cheekbones, while the scent of Balsam and Douglas firs fills the air and mingles with the smell of the cinnamon-scented pinecones by the popsicle store’s front door.

  I follow Locke’s gaze across the rows of Christmas trees, all arranged by size and standing in perky perfection waiting to be taken home. “You didn’t have a tree yet,” I say, folding my hands together nervously.

  Maybe this was a stupid idea. Just because I’m ten years old at heart doesn’t mean Locke is.

  I open my mouth again. “If it’s too much…”

  “No.” He turns to me, his eyes filled with excitement. “It’s perfect. I haven’t gotten a real tree since…” His voice drifts off, and a shadow passes over his eyes. “Since I lived at home with my parents,” he finishes.

  I groan inwardly. Of course I had to bring up something about his dad after the crappy day he’s had.

  But Locke smiles at me like I’ve given him a gift. “Christmas was my dad’s favorite holiday.”

  My chest loosens. “It was?”

  “God, yeah.” His face lights as he talks, love and nostalgia tinging his words. “He saw all sorts of people get destroyed by war and stuff, but for him, Christmas was sacred. The time to give back. In the weeks leading up to it, we spent every weekend wrapping gifts and supplies to donate to needy families. And then on Christmas Eve we’d dress up like elves to deliver packages to local families.”

  This man is so, so good. I’ve always known it, but now the knowledge is part of the fabric of him, like his dark hair and his warm eyes. My heart lurches recklessly, and on the spot, I fall in love with Locke a little more. It might be dangerous, but how could I not?

  “I want to see pictures,” I say. My breath comes out in a cold puff of air, backlit by the Christmas tree lights so it looks like fog. “Locke as an elf.”

  “Nope.” He shakes his head with a grin. “No.”

  “You forget, Lachlan Mills, that you invited me to Christmas. I bet Grandma Betty would be more than happy to bring out the photo albums for me again.”

  “You’d turn Grandma Betty against me?”

  “I’d work with her for our mutual gain.”

  He laughs. “It’s no wonder my family likes you so much.”

  They do? He’s been talking about me with them?

  “My dad would have liked you, too. You know, he gave me my love of travel, but he also showed me by example how to take care of people. How to love them.” Locke’s voice goes quiet and strained. “I think I’m just more pissed that he didn’t tell me before he died. Because I have all these questions now, and I can’t ask them.”

  I nod, and my heart aches for him. “I never met your dad, so I can’t speak for him. But one thing I know is that family isn’t just blood.” I think of my own family members who love me but don’t understand me half as well as people like Molly and Eden and Locke do. “Family is who you love, and the people who love you for exactly who you are.”

  Locke tugs me close and wraps me in a hug. His heat radiates through my body and warms my chest, even with the winter coats separating our skin. “I know,” he sighs. “I wouldn’t have cared, not long term. I just would have liked the chance to talk to him. Maybe I just miss him.” He drops a gentle kiss onto my lips that makes my stomach dip, and then he rests his forehead on mine. “Thank you.”

  I know Locke means for listening, for being here. But I need to lighten the mood or I’m going to tell him exactly how much he means to me, how much he feels like my family, too. “Don’t thank me yet,” I say. I sweep an arm over the lot. “We still need to pick a tree and then get the sucker home.”

  My words have the intended effect.

  Locke steps back and flexes his muscles. “I heard I have brute strength and sexy arms.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I poke his bicep with a smile. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  “My mouth tastes like pine needles.” I can’t see his head, but Locke’s voice floats up from between the boughs of the Douglas fir tree he’s spent the last fifteen minutes trying to screw into an old-fashioned Christmas tree stand.

  “If it didn’t, you wouldn’t be doing it right.”

  He steps out from under the tree and runs a hand over his hair, loosening a shower of pine needles onto his wood floor. “You want to cut the netting or should I?”

  “I mean, I’d love to, but I think after all the hard work you did to carry the tree, you deserve the honor.”

  “About that.”

  I grin at him. “No complaining. All that heart-pounding exertion does a body good.”

  “Mmm.” His gaze darkens, and a wicked smile dances across his face. “I prefer another form of heart-pounding exertion.”

  “Pushups?”

  He drags me toward him by the hips, and I fall against his chest with a squeal of laughter. “If that’s what you want to call it, babe.”

  God, why does that word make my heart do such stupid things?

  Locke buries his hands in my hair and our eyes lock and my pulse quickens because he’s going to kiss me again. I still haven’t gotten over the fact that we get to do that now. That we crossed this line and I didn’t ruin everything.

  “Was it a good idea?” I ask.

  “Very good.”

  I smile as Locke slants his mouth over mine, and my body surrenders with pleasure, swaying closer to his radiant warmth. He kisses me like it’s the only thing in the world he’s concentrating on, a singular focus that leaves me breathless and aching, my clit throbbing for him.

  Locke walks me backward until my shoulder blades bump the brick wall by his fireplace, never moving his mouth from mine. The rough surface clutches at the fine wool of my sweater and tugs threads loose, but I don’t care if my outfit gets ruined. Locke could rip my clothes to tatters and I’d still crawl to him naked.

  I wrap my arms around Locke and let him and the wall hold me up as my body melts under his ravaging touch. He explores every inch of my lips with his, from corner to corner, sucking on my lower lip, tracing the bow with the tip of his tongue. Kissing me until the room spins and everything is just sensation and no thoughts.

  Happy, bangs my heart. More.

  Then Locke slides down my body, relieving me of my clothes piece by piece, until I stand before him in just my underwear and bra. Every time with Locke feels like something new, like there’s another layer of ourselves that we’re baring to each other. Today, the way he’s looking at me makes me feel like he sees all the way inside me.

  His eyes take a slow pass over my body, so much devastating arousal contained in his gaze that I shake with anticipation. “God, you’re gorgeous, Greer.”

  If he can make me feel like this with only his eyes, lord help me when he turns those hands on me too.

  Locke stalks forward again and
lifts me off the floor.

  “There are those arms,” I gasp.

  He grins against my mouth. “Glad you approve.”

  “Always.”

  I wrap my legs around him as he carries me backward to the couch, and together we fall so I’m straddling him, my arms still locked tight around his neck.

  “How’s your heart now?” I ask, and he moves one of my hands to the center of his chest and holds it there over his sweater. His pulse races along with mine, his heart in my palm.

  “Beating for you, Greer.”

  I’m completely, desperately screwed. I’m so far gone for him, I might never find my way back.

  Locke’s words unleash so much need inside me that suddenly I can’t bear the fabric separating us. I tug his shirt over his head, and my eyes widen as I drink in the sight of his chiseled body, his ridged abs and strong, defined shoulders.

  He lifts me off his lap only long enough to strip out of his pants, leaving him naked and hard and waiting.

  “For you,” he repeats, taking himself in hand with a slow stroke to show me just how much he wants me. The move is so seductive—so wanton—that my desire turns liquid, running through my veins with an urgency I can’t contain.

  I straddle him again, my soaked panties skimming his naked cock. And then I move, grinding against him, riding him half-naked but not all the way there. I need friction, I need touch, or I am going to lose my ever-loving mind.

  A low groan slips from the back of Locke’s throat, and he reaches behind me to unhook my bra, dropping it to the floor in a single move. Then he bends his dark head and flicks his tongue over one of my nipples. The sensitive bud tightens under his attention, and he grins against me, enjoying my moan of pleasure. He blows a stream of cool air over my breasts and my nipples tighten more, almost painful in their arousal.

  “Please, Locke.”

  “Please, what?”

  “Please fuck me.”

  His rewarding smile is so dangerously close to I love you that I swear I can almost hear the words as he pushes my underwear aside and plunges into me.

  Like this—mouth to mouth, chest to chest—Locke’s so damn big inside me that there’s no more room for air. I gasp as he fills me, so deep that we’re rooted together as one.

  “Like this?” he whispers, kissing my chest.

  “Yes,” I whimper, tossing back my head so hair spills over my shoulders. “God, yes.”

  With a grin, Locke grips my hips. Arousal hoods his features and darkens his eyes so they’re almost black. Then he lifts me, the strength and control in his perfect body working for both of us in a shiver of sensation. His cock strokes into me so deliciously that I lose the ability to speak, to communicate in anything other than pants and moans and fragments of sentences.

  But he’s with me too. “Fuck, Greer. It’s so—fuck.”

  He lifts me and drags me down on his cock, again and again, and each time it feels like we come that much closer together. I rise and fall for him, circling my hips to milk every ounce of pleasure from both of us. We’re so damn connected, the push and pull of our bodies, the way we move together. Sweat slicks off our skin and my legs scream for rest, but I don’t dare stop because it feels so good.

  “More,” I beg, though I’m not sure who I’m asking. “Please.”

  Locke complies, reaching a hand under my panties to tease my clit, and my body bows forward. He’s destroying me even as he loves me, because there’s no coming back from this. There never was.

  Another stroke of his cock and his fingers, moving in tandem, and my body starts to crest.

  “I’m gonna come, Locke,” I pant, and I can feel it building, this orgasm that’s going to crush me.

  “Me too, gorgeous.” The delicate tether of his control starts to fray, and his hands tighten on my skin. Locke’s breath grows ragged as he fucks me with abandon, hard and deep and beautiful.

  “Locke,” I whimper, and then I come.

  Shatter.

  Explode.

  My muscles clench so hard around Locke that I can feel him coming too. The heat of him, his body pulsing as he lets go.

  Annihilation. It’s the best possible word to describe everything I feel right now as Locke kisses my forehead and holds me close to his chest. He’s breaking apart every one of my defenses.

  My heart doesn’t stand a chance.

  20

  Locke

  Greer Lively sleeps with a smile on her face.

  In the million daydreams I’ve had about her, I never quite pictured her like this—in my bed, her face relaxed and a smile playing on her lips while her hair spills down her naked back.

  How the fuck did I get so lucky? And why didn’t we do this ages ago? I didn’t know what I was missing out on before, and now I crave every fucking minute I can get with Greer.

  I roll over in bed with the sudden urge to wake her just so I can selfishly bask in the glow of her attention, but I hold myself back because there’s no rush. What I told her before is true—I’m going to savor whatever we’ve started.

  I kiss Greer’s bare shoulder, and she mutters a soft protest, curling her arms around my pillow and snuggling close. Tomorrow my sheets are going to smell like her, and the thought makes me so stupidly happy that a smile stretches my face, despite the fact that it’s early and I haven’t gotten nearly enough rest.

  “Go back to sleep,” I whisper in her ear. I slip out of bed and tuck the covers close around Greer’s sleeping form before I pad from my bedroom to the kitchen. A pile of mail from yesterday afternoon sits on my concrete countertop, and I frown at it while debate whether or not to open it.

  Later, I decide.

  You can’t blame me for being a little gun shy, but email, I can do.

  Two giant computer monitors sit on my desk at the WanderWell offices, but I always bring my laptop home with me to catch up on stray bits of work. I slide the computer out of my messenger bag now and let my emails load while I start a pot of coffee brewing. Might as well get ahead today so I don’t have to play catch-up on Monday.

  I browse through the list with sleepy eyes, sorting emails into folders to take action later.

  There’s a meeting invite for another one-on-one with Damien.

  There’s a message from Eden—Re: Holiday party recap!

  And buried halfway between an email from one of my UX designers and a conference announcement, there’s a message from WanderWell human resources.

  I sit down in my chair with my spine stiff, then slowly click open the message.

  Dear Lachlan Mills,

  Hello! It’s a great day for us, as we have exciting news to share: WanderWell is pleased to confirm our offer to you for the position of Content Experience Manager reporting to David Brinkley.

  The email continues, detailing my new office location and a salary so staggeringly high it feels gluttonous, but I can’t do more than skim the highlights while a numb sensation spreads down through my fingers.

  Everything I thought I wanted is there in the letter, but it’s also right here in my apartment, with the gorgeous woman still asleep in my bed.

  No matter how much I want it, I can’t have both.

  My stomach twists and I force a deep breath in through my nose, dragging the scent of Christmas trees and fresh coffee into my lungs. Then I fumble for my cell phone and draft a text to my sister. I haven’t talked to Maggie since yesterday’s revelation about my dad, and even though we need to go into that conversation on a different day, right now I need to share my secret with someone who loves me either way.

  I got it.

  Maggie’s reply comes through a minute later in a series of emojis—thumbs up, praise hands, and a giant smile.

  Atta boy, kid. You tell Greer?

  Fuck.

  Fuuuuuck.

  My fingers tighten around the edges of my phone. You’re the first to know, I send back.

  Good luck, she sends.

  I’ll need it.

  I set down my ph
one and hunch over my computer to reread the offer and let the words sink in. I don’t have to decide anything today, but that doesn’t mean I have forever, either.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  I slam my laptop shut at the sound of Greer’s voice and spin to face her. She’s wearing one of my old T-shirts, and in it, she looks so perfectly mine that I have to pause to catch my breath.

  “Yeah,” I cough out. “Why?”

  “You look like you’re about to growl at your computer.”

  I run a hand over my chest and offer her a smile I wish I could feel. “That’s what I get for checking in on work on the weekend.” I make a show of unplugging my laptop and stowing it back in my bag, pretending like nothing is wrong. I can shove aside my feelings about the job to unpack later, just like I’ve stowed away my anger and sadness about my dad. Right now, I’m here.

  For what it’s worth, Greer doesn’t seem to notice my distraction. Her eyes are bright with amusement as she taps a finger to her lips. “You know, we never did cut the netting off the tree.”

  I follow her gaze to the Christmas tree, still bundled from its journey home like a bottle brush shoved into a pair of fishnet stockings. “There are some scissors in the kitchen drawer next to the fridge.”

  Greer roots around in the drawer and produces the scissors, then walks across the room to snip the netting. The tree’s piney boughs spring loose from the grasp of the plastic, filling the room with another wash of Christmas tree scent and showering fresh needles onto the floor.

  I groan softly at the mess. “I should have put down a tree skirt or something.”

  “Do you have one?”

  “Nope.”

  “Which I’m guessing means you don’t have ornaments or lights either.”

  I grin. “Guilty as charged.”

  “Sounds like a problem you need to fix.” Greer pauses and delivers her next words cautiously. “I mean, if you aren’t doing anything today, we could go shopping together.”