Vote Then Read: Volume I

by Carly Phillips

  “I’m dying to know, so please share.”

  He rakes his fingers through his thick head of hair. “They were high school sweethearts, but broke up when Dad went to college. They stayed apart for about five years, when they ran into each other at a friend’s wedding. Apparently, they ran off to Vegas soon after that and got married.”

  I shift in my seat, fascinated, eager to hear more. Chase goes on to explain how Hunter, Inc. came about because of his parents’ shared interest in the stock market and investments. What began as a small consulting venture, soon exploded into the empire it is today.

  “Who are you closest to?” I ask, knowing there is always one parent to favor over the other. For me, it’s Ma, even though the woman can drive me batty. Dad does come in a strong second.

  “My mother, hands down. Which is why I make it a point to come home for Christmas every year. She got sick six months ago, a bout with breast cancer.”

  My heart plunges and I instantly place my hand on his arm. “Oh, Chase, I’m so, so sorry.”

  “She’s better now, a true fighter. I spent time with her, during her chemo sessions, and it broke my heart. If it wasn’t for the sweet oncology nurse she grew close to, I think Mom would have spiraled off into a cycle of depression.”

  “Ma is an oncology nurse. She shares some tear-provoking stories with me.”

  “Really? Kudos to your mom, because to witness all she does, well, it takes a strong person.”

  Silence permeates the atmosphere, both of us consumed by thoughts.

  He sits up, takes a sip of coffee. “Okay, now about us. We need to decide on where we met and I’m thinking it’s best to keep it simple, say in London at a bank?”

  My eyebrows raised, I nod. “Sure. Sounds plausible, but let’s add a bit of reality, keep it real. How about we use how we’d actually met as our story. Only BB attacked you as you were about to enter the bank.”

  “Yes, I like that. We can say that meet-cute was love at first sight.” Our eyes congregate for a short dance, then he breaks away, rubbing his palms together. “You can say you live primarily in London but have a small studio apartment in Beverly Hills.” He pauses, index finger over his mouth, deep in thought. He glances at me. “Have I missed anything?”

  “The date. We need to set a fictitious date to walk down the aisle.”

  He nods. “Right. What do you suggest?”

  “June, of course. That’s the ultimate time to wed.”

  At least according to an article I read. However, if I were to ever march down the aisle, after miraculously falling in love, I’d pick a spring wedding when everything is fresh, new, and exhilarating.

  “Okay, a June wedding it is. So then, I believe that rounds it all—”

  “Wait,” I interrupt. “How will we call it off? This fake engagement? Because obviously, this can’t morph into a fake wedding.”

  Ugh, that would be a travesty. Or would it?

  “Oh.” He waves his hand, minimizing the issue. “That’ll be taken care of down the line. A few months from now, after my dad retires and I’m named president of Hunter, Inc., I’ll say the long-distance relationship split us apart.”

  That’ll work. I mean it’s better than what I had in mind: faking a pretend argument and breaking it off in front of everyone before we head back to California. Now that would have made for some great acting.

  Chase’s attention reverts back to his work while I shift mine out the window, peering out at the puffy clouds in the sky. Evelyn and Chase seem like the perfect couple and sadness grips my chest, mourning the impending split between the two.

  It may also be worth noting, this reaction of sadness is normal for me, especially when a production I’ve starred in, comes close to an end.

  This is nothing different from that—a mere production starring me and Chase Hunter, the H.A.M.—hot ass man—costar.

  And as the plane begins its descent into a cold, wintry Christmas in New York, I gear up a mental pep talk of how I’ll portray Evelyn Bloom.

  Screenwriter from London. Sexy British accent. Fiancée to Mr. Chase Hunter.

  This could very well be the performance of a lifetime.

  Act Two

  New York City

  15

  One week before Christmas…

  CHASE

  Snow falls like drops of powdery sugar on my nose.

  Ivy, BB, and I scurry over to the waiting town car, the three of us shivering like a group of unsuspecting tourists. New York cold is a bite to the ass that cuts all the way down to the bone.

  “Mr. Hunter, fabulous to see you, sir. Please, allow me to take your bags.” Percy, my dad’s driver, opens the car door. Ivy and I slide in the backseat, seeking refuge from the cold.

  While he loads the bags into the trunk, I sneak in a word with Ivy. “Game on. You ready for this?”

  Eyes twinkling, she says in a realistic-sounding British accent, “Ready as I’ll ever be, love.” She winks, showing me Evelyn Bloom has been fully activated.

  Impressive.

  Percy gets into the car, cranes his head to properly greet us from the driver’s seat. “Welcome home, sir. Is this…”

  “Evelyn Bloom, my fiancée,” I say, a surprisingly confident twinge in my voice.

  He extends a hand to shake hers. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bloom.”

  Ivy smiles, a beautiful sight for all to see. “Oh, no. The pleasure is all mine. Please, call me Evelyn.”

  Percy’s eyes glow, seemingly entertained. “You’re from London, I hear. Lovely city, so colorful, and snazzy. What part are you from?”

  “The Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea.”

  Damn, the woman’s good. I’m beginning to question if that sexy British accent of hers is real and American girl is the fake one.

  BB pops her head out, fully awake, an excited pant on display. “This is BB, my step-puppy.” Why I decided to call her that, is beyond my comprehension.

  Ivy—rather Evelyn—lowers her gaze, cheeks on fire, stifling a giggle.

  Percy snickers. “Well, it’s great to meet you too, BB.”

  Minutes later, he zips onto Highway 678, toward Park Slope. I’ve lived in my parents’ house since I was born and get a warm, nostalgic feeling each time I return. It’s shortly after 1 p.m., and much like Los Angeles traffic, New York is known for ridiculous jams, even more so when it snows.

  “Are the two of you hungry? Care to stop for a burger, bagels, or somethin’?” Percy’s thick, New York accent always takes me back to when I swore he was a mob boss. He’s been driving for my father since I was at least six-years-old and has even been an accessory to some of my, sneaking-out-of-the-house-when-grounded adventures. Now that I’m older, it feels weird to hear him refer to me as Mr. Hunter.

  I’m not hungry, but turn my attention to my fake bride-to-be for an answer.

  “No, thank you. However, I am quite parched.”

  “Mr. Hunter, I still keep extra water bottles in the under-seat compartment back there. Help yourself, please. We’ll be home soon.”

  I bend forward and retrieve two bottles of water, one for Ivy and the other for me.

  Then sit back, taking in deep breaths, trying to ward off the anxiety brewing.

  Almost an hour later, when Percy hooks a right onto Sullivan Street, a grin stretches across my face, as I see Mom waving in anticipation as the car rolls up the small driveway. It’s stopped snowing for now, but I know the bitter cold is going to slap me silly, once I step out.

  Mom rushes to the car and I fling the door open, ready to welcome her embrace.

  “Oh, my handsome son, how I’ve missed you,” she squeals, reaching up to cup my face. She pulls me in for a hug. “Where is that fiancée of yours? I’m dying to meet her.”

  Percy opens the door on Ivy’s side and she steps out onto the snow-covered pavement. Her face beams, a hint of a nervous smile tugging at her lips. She steps forward and Mom meets her halfway, ready to welcome her to the family.<
br />
  I join them, stand near Ivy, one arm bracketing her waist. “Mom, meet Evelyn Bloom, your future daughter-in-law.”

  Ivy extends her arm out for a handshake and Mom yanks her close, swooping her into a hug. “Hi, sweetheart, I’m Zia Hunter. I’ve been dying to meet you.” She steps back, her hands on Ivy’s shoulders, surveying her from top to bottom, then from bottom to top. “You’re a gorgeous one, welcome to our family.” She flicks her gaze to me. “Well done, son.”

  “It’s great to meet you, Mrs. Hunter. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Mom’s face lights up. “Call me Zia, and my, what a fascinating accent you have. I feel like I’m entertaining royalty.” She slaps my shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me she’s British? I would have brought out the fine China.”

  BB barks from inside Ivy’s purse and Mom whirls around, a puzzled set of furrowed brows framing her eyes. “I must be losing my mind. I could have sworn I heard a dog.”

  “It’s BB, Mom. Evelyn’s little chihuahua.”

  Mom melts when Ivy removes a frantic BB from out of her purse. “Aww, would you look at this little princess?” She takes her from Ivy’s arms and cuddles BB in her own. “You must be cold, little girl. Let’s get you inside where it’s nice and warm, huh?”

  Once inside, Mom offers us something to eat, and we both decline, asking to instead unpack and freshen up.

  Mom kisses BB, who seems to be lapping up all the attention. “You two lovebirds have the third floor flat all to yourselves.”

  I wince.

  Ivy’s mouth drops.

  “Uh, Mom wouldn’t it be better if Ivy takes one of the guest rooms and I take my old room?”

  Mom flashes me one of her looks. All moms have a look; mine happens to have three she tosses around like confetti. “Don’t be silly, I won’t think of separating you two at Christmas. Besides, your room is now a study and the guest rooms will be tied up with, well…guests. I’ve invited company this Christmas. They’ll be in one of the guest rooms. Granny and her male companion will be in the other.”

  “Granny and her male companion?”

  “Yup.”

  Oh, boy.

  Granny lost my grandfather about four years ago and has been traveling with a group of friends to keep her mind off things. But, the seventy-two-year-old has also taken up dating as a hobby, and it seems she has a new male companion every six months.

  “When’s Granny and her new flame coming?” I ask because, honestly, I need to mentally prepare for who Lyla Hunter may walk through the doors with. Last time she was dating someone who considered himself a cowboy. Problem was, he was born and lived in New York City.

  There are no cowboys in the city.

  “Tonight. After your father and Maddie pick them up from the train station. They’re out running errands right now. So, why don’t you two go get settled, then Chase, you can show Evelyn around.” She unleashes a barrage of kisses on BB’s forehead. “In the meantime, this little girl can hang out with me.”

  16

  IVY

  Seven nights in the same room with H.A.M.?

  Uh, no. Not. Happening.

  Hands on hips, I stand, serving my best narrow-eyed glare. “Part of our arrangement is sleeping in separate rooms.” My eyes scan the nine-hundred-square-foot space, with its king-sized bed, couch, bathroom, and a kitchenette. “This…is not separate rooms, Chase Hunter.”

  He wheels our suitcases in, nose all wrinkled up. “You do know you don’t have to speak British when it’s just the two of us, right?”

  Arms folded, I say, “I’m serious,” and realize I’ve even said that in my fake accent.

  “Look, I know this isn’t what you were expecting, but we can totally make this work.” He struts over to me, then casts those green eyes down on mine as he rubs my shoulders, the warmth of his hands, even through my heavy coat, making my legs feel like mush. “I’ll take the couch; you and BB can have the bed.”

  Blinking up at him, I pout. “Fine, but if you snore, it’ll be the bathtub for you.”

  “And if you snore—”

  I hit him in his gut, feel those tight abs contract. Help. Me. “I don’t snore.”

  Shrugging out of my coat, I toss it onto the bed and plunge down beside it. The beautiful home, an elegant Brownstone, with three massive stories, is located in Park Slope, one of New York’s most desirable neighborhoods. Best of all, it’s not too far from my parents’ home in Brooklyn Heights. Being this close to home makes me want so badly to stop by, at least for a quick hello. I missed a call from Ma last night and need to make it a point to call her back soon.

  “C’mon, Ivy. I’ll give you a tour, then we should head back downstairs for a bite to eat.”

  I grimace. “Shouldn’t you just call me Evelyn so you don’t get confused?”

  “Good point.”

  Chase leads me back down a flight of stairs, the hardwood planks creaking beneath us. “This house was originally designed to be a two-family residence, ideal for renting out the top or the bottom floor,” he explains, stopping at the landing. “Being the investors they were, Mom and Dad purchased it with the plan to rent out the upper floor to supplement their income.” He leads me through the hallway and into a small kitchen. “That’s why this house is equipped with two main living spaces and two full kitchens. The area of the house we’ll be staying in was where my nanny used to stay.”

  I nod, my eyes canvassing the quaint kitchen. “Oh, you had a nanny?”

  “Only when they had to take business trips overseas.” He opens the fridge and takes out two bottles of water. He hands me one, and I twist the top off, sip, then follow behind him as he walks us back through the hallway toward some bedrooms.

  “And did they ever rent out the upper or lower half of the house?”

  “No. Once Mom found out she was pregnant with me, she didn’t want any other families living under this roof. They did some renovations and called it Hunter Castle for fun. When I was a little boy, I truly thought it was a castle. Until I began visiting friends’ homes and quickly realized most Brownstones were built like mine.”

  He shows me three bedrooms, one belonging to Maddie and the other two for guests, before we come to a stop at a room at the end of the hall.

  “This used to be my room, but as you heard Mom say earlier, they’ve apparently converted it into a study.”

  He swings the door open, as if he can’t wait to see what they did to his once-sacred space. Inside, there’s a large mahogany desk, an oversized lounge chair, a big-screen television above the fireplace, and a wall cabinet filled with trophies and awards. Chase approaches the cabinet, me only steps behind him.

  He clears his emotion-riddled throat. “These are my football trophies, starting from my days in Pop Warner.”

  I move in for an up-close view and our fingers graze, the connection between us like electricity, sending chills through my veins. I pull my hand back, tuck my hair behind my ear, and try to focus on the trophies, instead of my out-of-control heartbeat. “There’s so many of them, Chase.”

  He scoffs. “Yeah, so long ago. But it’s a nice reflection of my dedication to the sport. I’ll have to thank Mom and Dad for displaying them in this cabinet.”

  Famished, we find our way to the kitchen where Chase’s mom, Zia, is playing with BB. “Oh hey, you two, does that room work for you?”

  “Sure,” Chase answers for both of us and I just stand in silence, sipping on my bottle of water.

  “Wonderful. Like I mentioned, you two shouldn’t be separated. An attractive couple like yourselves, well, I’m sure you’re already sleeping together anyway.”

  Water flies out of my mouth and I instantly begin to choke up a cough.

  Zia rushes over, pats me on my back. “Are you okay, my dear?”

  I nod several times, eyeing Chase as he annoyingly appears to struggle with holding back a laugh. BB comes to my rescue, licking up the small puddle of water off the floor. “I’m fine, just choked o
n my own sip of water is all.”

  “Are you hungry? Let me warm you both up some soup.” Zia makes a beeline for the refrigerator. “You two have a seat at the table. The soup will be ready in no time.”

  Evidently starving, Chase and I practically inhale the soup. Then afterward, Chase takes BB outside to relieve herself while I help Zia clean the lunch dishes.

  She smiles as we load up the dishwasher. “So, where did you lovebirds meet?”

  My conversation with Chase about how we’d describe our meet-cute pops to mind.

  “Oh, it’s a funny story actually. See, I was walking BB on my way to London Federal Bank and somehow, she got loose and took off toward the bank’s door. Next thing I knew, BB was attacking your son, ferociously biting at his trousers.”

  Her eyes widen. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No, Mom, she’s not,” Chase chimes in, BB trotting along beside him. “In fact, I’m pretty sure BB was growling as she tugged away at my pants.”

  Zia’s hand falls to her belly as she lets out a chortle. “What a hilarious way to meet.”

  Chase swoops in behind me, hooks his arms around my waist, and kisses me on the cheek. I don’t know if I’m more annoyed that he kissed me or annoyed that I liked it. “Evelyn came to my rescue. One look at her—those stormy-blue eyes, I knew she was the one missing in my life.”

  His delivery could be categorized as downright cheesy, if you ask me. Good thing his mom gulped it up and swallowed it whole, like a woman off of her diet.

  “It’s good to see you elated, Chase.” Zia winks at me, her mouth turned up. “And I can tell by the expression on your face, when he put his arms around you, planted that kiss on your cheek, you’re happy as well.”

  Chase finally sets me free from his surprise embrace and grabs hold of my hand. “I hope to make her happy for the rest of my life.”

  BB barks as if she’s telling Chase to lay off the cheese. You tell him, girl.