BS Boyfriend: A Standalone Fake Fiancée Romance

by JD Hawkins

  “Shit, he’s spotted us. No turning back now,” my “fiancé” says, looking a little anxious. “Dammit. We look like a couple of strangers…”

  Feeling bold, I step closer to him, putting my arms around his waist and pressing myself against him.

  “Let’s make it look convincing then,” I whisper, embracing the silliness of the situation and treating it like a distracting parlor game.

  He looks down at me, then glances up quickly at the older guy.

  “I think he buys it…” he mutters. “Quick. Kiss me. Like you love me.” His eyes return to mine and he looks a little staggered by his own request. “Shit. Maybe this is a bad idea—”

  Before he can backtrack, I’ve lifted my face and brought my lips to his. It’s no passionate connection, no erotic joining. It’s a movie kiss. Mouths closed. All lips, no tongue. Purely for show. But still…the way he pulls my bare back against him…the feel of being wrapped in his arms… It’s honestly kind of nice, even if it’s all fake.

  “How about now?” I ask when we part, turning in his arms to look and wave at the older guy.

  The older guy no longer looks confused. Instead, he’s grinning at us as he beckons the two of us to the bar.

  “If that won’t convince him, nothing will,” the younger man says. “That’s my boss, Warren Brown. Well, boss-to-be. You’ve heard of him, right?”

  I shake my head. “No?”

  He seems to think about explaining for a second, but then nods. “That’s probably for the best. Here he comes.”

  We both smile at the older man, who’s urging us to approach him like he’s a soccer player begging for a pass.

  “So what’s my motivation?” I say, smiling.

  He’s too worried to read the joke however, and answers it like he’s giving instructions on a battlefield.

  “Just deflect if he asks you something personal—I’ll get him talking, then all we’ll have to do is play the fascinated audience. If things get tough, just crack a joke or something and power through it,” he says as he takes my hand and leads me forward.

  “So just like a real marriage then,” I say.

  Even in his deeply worried state he glances back at me to show a small smile at the quip. “I think you’ll be fine,” he says, and the sound of his confidence in me almost makes me blush.

  We move toward the older man, who looks like a movie star himself with his trimmed gray beard, athletic frame, and expensive clothing. As soon as we’re within earshot he opens his arms wide and beams with an almost fatherly—probably whiskey-induced—happiness.

  “There she is! Finally I get to meet you, my dear.”

  “Pleased to meet you too,” I say, laughing to match his enthusiasm. I offer him my hand and he holds it horizontally in the old-fashioned way. “I’m Hazel. I’ve heard so much about you, Mr.—”

  “Call me Warren,” he says, smiling as if he’s basking in some light I’m giving off. Then he suddenly frowns a little, looking confused. He glances at the younger man, then back at me. “Hazel? I thought your name was Nicole?”

  I glance at the younger man, whose poker face is good, but not as good as my ability to read them. He’s stuck.

  “Nicole’s my middle name, which I went by in college—I wanted to ‘reinvent’ myself. I thought Hazel sounded too old-fashioned,” I say quickly, casually, as if it’s something I’ve explained so many times I’m bored of it. “Silly, right? Some people still call me Nicole, my closer friends call me Hazel. Whichever is fine with me.”

  “Hazel’s a beautiful name,” the older man says.

  “She was just on the other side of the bar,” my “fiancé” explains. “I had no idea.”

  I laugh and add, “I think I’ve tanned so much he doesn’t recognize me anymore.”

  Warren smiles broadly at me, but I notice more how my “fiancé” seems to relax a little upon seeing me pulling off the charade.

  “Nate’s told me so much about you,” Warren says warmly.

  I find myself actually really liking the old man, and it doesn’t slip my notice that he’s kept his eyes on my face this entire time—even though I’m standing here in a bikini and sarong. He’s a wonderful combination of fatherly and imposing, and it suddenly makes perfect sense why Nate’s trying so hard to pull off this fake fiancée charade.

  “Nate…” I say, as if relishing the name, admonishing him affectionately. I sip my fresh daiquiri through a smile. “What sort of things has he said?”

  “I just told him about how you were trying to get your health business off the ground,” Nate says quickly. “And, of course, how happy I am that we’re getting married.”

  “He adores you,” Warren adds happily. “And I can see why. You’ve got a lovely smile—very bright. You’re almost his opposite! Ha! But seriously, he needs a little balance. Too much of a tendency for seriousness, especially for such a young man… No, you make a wonderful couple. I like to see it.”

  I share a look with Nate, for some reason smiling more than I have since I arrived. The sudden warmth inside of me not entirely down to the sun and the alcohol. I tell myself I’m just playing the part, but I doubt I could remove this grin even if I wanted to.

  “And I can tell you’ve got a bit of a rebellious streak with that blue in your hair,” Warren adds with a bemused twinkle in his eye. “Which is exactly what Nate here needs. All work and no play, right? I honestly think he’d be lost without you.”

  “You know,” I reply, casting a look at Nate, “I’m growing a little fond of him myself.”

  Warren loves that, and shows it by downing his whiskey.

  “Anyway,” Nate says, with a sudden burst of semi-anxious energy, “I still need to go through the proposals we saw yesterday with Edward and Sam. Ni—Hazel? Didn’t you say you wanted to…the thing…that you had to go off and do?”

  “Oh yeah,” I say quickly, picking up Nate’s energy. “Yeah…I met some friends here who I promised I’d have lunch with. But it was lovely meeting you, Mr.…”

  “Warren. Just Warren. We’re family now, after all. It was delightful meeting you as well, my dear. We’ll catch up more at dinner this evening.”

  “Uh, dinner?” I say.

  “Sure,” Nate says, nodding to me and to Warren. “Dinner…yeah. Probably. Okay, great. Well, I’ll see you later then…honey…”

  “Yeah…” I say, as Nate and I gaze at each other, unsure of how we should say goodbye.

  We move close to each other, heads going from side to side as if we’re in each other’s way, and then he leans down and pecks my lips. It’s unconvincing, but hopefully Warren’s too sloshed now to notice the awkwardness.

  I turn back to smile at Warren as he steps away from the bar with Nate, offering a little wave as they walk away, leaving me alone, a little stunned, and extremely curious about what the hell just happened.

  2

  Nate

  I find Edward in one of the hotel’s several restaurants, wolfing down cheesecake in between leaning to the side where he’s going over some papers.

  He’s in his fifties, and unlike Warren he seems to have taken that as an excuse to give up on his health rather than make an effort to maintain it. He’s got the kind of physique even his tailored, crazily-expensive shirt can’t flatter. If his spoon wasn’t so small he’d have finished off that cake in three bites.

  “Hey, Eddy,” I say as I pull out a chair at his table.

  “Nate,” he replies, forgetting his mouth is full and quickly swallowing before continuing. “Sam’s just gone to the restroom. Have you seen Warren?”

  “Yeah—we just had a drink together.”

  A waiter approaches and I shake my head to indicate I don’t want anything.

  “How is he?” Eddy asks. “What kind of mood is he in?”

  I shrug, finding the question a little silly, but familiar. From the inside, Montague and Brown sometimes feels more like a cult of personality than an investment firm.

  “Fine. He
sounds fine,” I say nonchalantly.

  Eddy returns to his cheesecake like it was waiting impatiently, and I pour myself a glass of water from the carafe on the table. After a sip I glance over at the papers Eddy was perusing.

  “That the solar company proposal?”

  Eddy nods, his mouth too busy to answer.

  “Why even waste your time with that one?” I ask.

  He shoots me a confused look, quickly swallowing to say, “The numbers are fantastic.”

  “Because that’s all they’re focusing on,” I reply. Eddy doesn’t shift his confused expression, so I elaborate. “It’s all third-party technology, manufactured abroad. They’re selling tax credits, making deals, making their name known—but they don’t actually have any unique tech of their own, no moat. They’re going nowhere. I mean, there are fifteen other solar companies at this conference alone.”

  Eddy looks down at his plate, disappointed to see it’s empty, then puts his spoon down and returns his gaze to me.

  “Warren wants to invest in some clean energy, and he seemed to like the CEO.”

  “Well you like cheesecake, but you haven’t put half a billion dollars into it. Not yet, anyway,” I say with a smile.

  Eddy smiles back and glances over the report as if with new eyes. He winces a little, then mutters, “Warren will be disappointed.”

  “Better to disappoint him a little now than infuriate him a few years down the line with a bad investment.”

  Eddy sighs heavily then wipes his mouth with a napkin and dumps it on the proposal. “So what do you like from those we’ve seen?” he asks.

  I take a second to think about it. “Do you remember that booth for the biotech company from Flo—”

  I’m interrupted by a slap on the back and a familiarly excitable voice.

  “Natey-boy! There he is! The heir apparent!” Sam says as he bounds around the table from behind me and pulls out a chair. He stops and points at me with a sly grin. “Not quite yet, though. Not quite yet…”

  “Hey, Sam,” I say with a fatigued smile.

  He’s a tall, lean guy with a tall, lean face. Months working with him and I still can’t tell if he’s a teenager who looks forty, or a forty-year-old who acts like a teenager.

  “Don’t tease him, Sam,” says Eddy. “He’s pretty much a certainty for the job. Else he wouldn’t be here at this conference with us.”

  Sam tilts his head as if unconvinced, then leans closer like he’s offering secret advice. “Still time to mess it up, kid. Don’t rest on your laurels just yet. Warren giveth, and Warren taketh away. Speaking of which—have you seen him today? What kind of mood is he in?”

  I sigh and say, “I saw him just now. He seems happy.”

  “Good, good,” Sam says, seeming able to relax only now that he knows that. He leans back in his chair and gestures at his beer glass. Then he turns back to me. “Say, Eddy just told me you brought your wife to the conference.”

  “Fiancée,” Eddy corrects.

  “Smart move,” Sam says, winking at me. “Sometimes I think I only got this job because I was married with three kids before I hit thirty. My wife made him a blueberry pie and that sealed it.”

  “Well you definitely didn’t get hired for your intelligence,” Eddy says.

  “Or your looks,” I add.

  “Or your work ethic.”

  “Or your taste in clothes.”

  “Or your—”

  “Okay! Okay, I get it,” Sam interrupts, waving us away as Eddy and I share a laugh. Sam can take the ribbing—God knows he hands them out enough. “Anyway, when do we get to meet this elusive wife of yours?”

  “Fiancée,” Eddy corrects again.

  I shift in my seat and sip my water to buy a little time. “She’s…around. Warren just met her at the pool bar. But you know how it is…she’s enjoying the spa…doesn’t want to get in the way of work.”

  “She’ll be at dinner tonight, presumably,” Eddy says, matter-of-factly. “Warren’s flying back to Chicago in the morning. Everyone will be there.”

  “Excellent,” Sam says, as his beer arrives and he takes a long sip.

  I think about making an early excuse, but realize it would sound out of place right now, and decide I’m just going to have to make it later.

  Eddy and Sam start talking shop, and I zone out, already wondering what the hell I’m going to do about dinner. Maybe I just won’t show up at all. They’d surely figure out something’s up if I did that though. I feel like I’ve pushed this lie too far as it is…

  Back there, drinking at the bar with Warren, I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes. It really felt like I’d finally been trapped in this whole charade. For weeks now this whole thing has become so ridiculous I feel like it’s a matter of “when,” not “if,” it comes crashing down around me. But she…somehow… Wow. She was good…

  It’s only now, thinking back on it, that I realize how the girl at the pool just saved my ass completely. It’s only now that the rush has gone that I realize how well she played it. I’m not even sure what prompted me to make such a desperate request of a perfect stranger. And then for her to say yes…

  Maybe any girl would. I know what effect I have on women. Most would probably think it’s some elaborate pickup line. But she nailed it. Like she actually cared. Like she could tell how badly I needed for her not to screw it up…

  She was undeniably cute, with her colored hair and bangles. Something hippie-ish about her. And those curves…hips even her sarong couldn’t disguise, bikini top hugging perfect breasts I had to fight not to look at. Only now, after the panic of the moment is gone, do I feel like I can appreciate the whole package, gazing at the memory of her in my mind, still fresh enough to excite.

  Her smooth skin, flushed from the sun, a few beads of sweat like jewelry on her. Every part of her seemed alive—and since most women I tend to meet are too perfect and meticulously put-together to seem human, that makes her thrilling. She had something easygoing and natural about her. In the circles I move in, those kind of women are rare enough to make you forget they even exist. Or maybe she’s the same and it’s just all a good show. What was her name again? Hazel… Something about the way she said my name too… Maybe…

  Nate…

  Nate.

  “Nate!”

  “Huh?” I remark, suddenly noticing that Sam and Eddy have been looking at me and calling me for a while. Before they can start telling me whatever they were trying to get my attention for, I’m up out of the seat. “I just remembered,” I say, “I’ve got to go do something—find someone.”

  “Your wife?” Sam asks.

  “Fiancée,” Eddy says.

  I smirk a little at the crazy idea that I haven’t even fully finished yet. “Something like that.”

  3

  Hazel

  Poolside drinking is tiring work. At the hospital I pull twelve-hour shifts on nothing but four hours of sleep and terrible coffee, but I still don’t feel quite as beat as I do now.

  It’s just past three and I’m back in my room, with its stunning view of the hotel grounds and the mountains beyond. I decide to take a long, cool shower, if only for something to pass the time with.

  Maybe I’m just a classic extrovert, the kind of person who only gets energized around other people. Maybe I’m really not cut out to do anything alone. I’ll consider that the second thing I’ve learned about myself on this vacation.

  I should find that kid and her parents again, maybe they’ll have me for dinner with them. Perhaps they’d even want some alone time and I could take the kid bike riding. Or maybe they’d just think I’m imposing on their private family time.

  God, maybe I should just go to the bar in the lowest cut top I have and spend the evening with the first guy to hit on me. Though knowing my luck, it would be a rare occasion nobody hits on me at all.

  Screw it. I’m just going to order some dessert from room service and see what they have on the hotel TV. Even though that’s h
ow I tend to spend my evenings back in L.A. Who knew enjoying yourself could be such hard work?

  As I’m stepping out of the shower twenty minutes later, I hear a knock at the door. Loud and forceful enough that I can’t miss it even from the bathroom.

  “One moment!” I call back as I quickly wrap myself in a towel.

  It’ll be housekeeping, coming in to tidy in the afternoon, while everyone is typically enjoying the sun or a nice lunch. Or maybe another staff member dropping off complimentary drinks, or offering massages—this is the kind of hotel that does that.

  I swing open the door, wearing nothing but the towel and a big smile. The moment I see who’s standing there, the smile turns into open-mouthed surprise.

  “Hey,” he says.

  Nate. Voice like a quake, vibrating my core. His eyes flicker quickly down my body, and though I’m wearing the towel I feel naked. As if the towel isn’t enough, not when faced with the intense focus of his eyes, anyway.

  After a few seconds, I realize I still haven’t responded.

  “Um, hi…” I reply, my cheeks going warm.

  “Bad timing,” he says, gesturing at me, at my towel. “So sorry. I’ll try you later—”

  “No,” I say quickly, putting my smile back on again. “No, it’s fine. Come in. Let me just finish getting dressed.”

  He looks hesitant for a moment until I open the door a little wider and gesture him inside. Then I grab some clothes and hurry into the bathroom.

  “Small room,” he says after a few seconds, while I quickly pull on some jean shorts and a loose T-shirt.

  “It’s just me on this trip,” I call back from the bathroom, quickly running some fingers through my hair to get some of the frizz out.

  “Really?” he replies, sounding genuinely surprised.

  I step out of the bathroom to see his broad back as he looks out of the French doors.

  “Yeah,” I say, still teasing out my hair as he turns to face me.