Pretend You're Mine

by Francisco, Fabiola

  I wave a hand in the air. “What’s yours is mine.”

  “Really?” His eyebrows now meet his hairline.

  “Yeah,” I shrug. “That’s how relationships work.”

  “So, I can have your secret chocolate stash?”

  My eyes bug out.

  “Oh, I know all about it.” He smiles wickedly. Before I can stand to check on my stash, he’s stalking toward the kitchen. I leap to my feet and call out his name. I halt as I see him holding a salted dark chocolate bar.

  “That’s to keep me sane when I have my period,” I use the Aunt Flo excuse.

  “Uh, huh,” he nods, ripping open the package.

  I cringe. “At least be delicate with it.”

  I eye him as he sloppily breaks off a piece, tiny crumbs falling on the floor. Goodness, that’s wasting perfectly good chocolate.

  “Harris,” I whine. That chocolate bar is limited edition, seasonal, whatever you want to call it. They only have it in stores this time of year, and it’s not to be eaten like a savage the way he is.

  I leap forward and try to rip it from his hands, but he’s quicker and taller than I am. He lifts his hand over his head. “Mmm, that tastes good.”

  “I’ll climb your body like a tree,” I warn.

  “Love when you talk dirty. Please do.”

  I jump up, trying to grab the chocolate bar, but he just stretches his arm higher. I hold on to his shoulder and jump again, Harris snickering.

  When I land back on my feet, my body brushes against his hardness. I stop and look down at his pants then back up with a raised eyebrow.

  “Don’t look at me that way, you’re the one pushing your perky tits in my face as you jump.”

  “I’ve been going about this the wrong way,” I murmur.

  I move my hand down and feel his cock. Harris closes his eyes and hisses. Ah, yes, I can use my body to steal the chocolate from him.

  “Poppy,” he warns. “If you play dirty, I’ll hide this bar, have my way with you, and then eat the entire thing in front of you.”

  “You wouldn’t,” I gasp.

  “Try me,” he challenges. He breaks another piece and shoves it in his mouth.

  “Ugh,” I groan.

  Harris laughs, “What’s yours is mine, right?”

  “You’re mean.”

  “I’ll buy you more.”

  “They’re almost out at the store and only carry this particular bar for the holidays. You can buy jerky year-round.”

  “So, you’re confessing to eating my jerky.”

  Yes,” I throw my hands in the air. I thought I had already confessed.

  “Here.” He breaks a piece and places it against my lips, but before I can take it, he pulls it back.

  “First, you have to promise that what’s mine will always be yours, and what’s yours will always be mine.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I’m distracted as I try to pluck the chocolate from between his fingers.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  “Of course.” I eye the chocolate.

  “You promise to spend your life with me.”

  “Of course,” I repeat.

  “Poppy...”

  I look at his eyes, all teasing gone and replaced with an emotion I can’t pinpoint. “Yes?” I whisper, seeing the change in his demeanor.

  “I’m trying to be romantic here, and you’re acting like a dog begging for her treat.”

  “Did you just call me a dog?” I lift my brows and cross my arms over my chest.

  Harris shakes his head. “Never mind that it was a bad comparison.”

  “As you were saying,” I urge him on with a wave of my hand.

  “You, me, sharing everything—jerky, limited edition chocolate, a home.”

  “Oh,” I freeze.

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow.”

  “So?”

  My shoulders relax, and I run my eyes over his features. He’s serious. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow.”

  “You already said that. I’m sweatin’ here, darlin’, so more than one-word responses would be great.”

  “Are you asking…"

  “Live with me, promise to marry me, make a life with me. I promise to share my jerky with you, take care of you, and love you with every ounce of my being.”

  “Marriage?”

  “Let’s begin with our own place. I’ll take you slow,” he winks.

  Ah, slow.

  I shiver at the memory of how his languid strokes took me over the brink last night. “But I’m at an age where I’m ready to settle down, so don’t expect me to wait too long before I propose.”

  “Ah, yes, you old thirty-five-year-old man.” I tease. “I could get used to you grabbing things from the top shelves without having to open the step stool every five minutes. And, I get cold at night when you don’t sleep here with me. I also hear a lot of noises and have no one to hold me. Besides, I can’t eat that entire stash of chocolate alone.” I sigh as if he were doing me a favor, but deep down, I’m doing cartwheels and somersaults that only my alter ego could do because I’d break both ankles in real life.

  He smiles, and my heart flutters. “So, are you gonna live with me?”

  “Is that you asking me to live with you? Because quite frankly, Harris, I expected at least a bouquet of poppies.”

  “You hate poppies.”

  “I know, I’m just kidding.” I swing my arms around his neck. “Of course, you can live with me.” I giggle.

  “I love you too much to correct that phrase.”

  “I’m kidding.” I pull back a bit. “I love you, too.” I peck his lips before settling back on the floor. “What’s mine is yours, and that includes my heart,” I shrug as if there would be any other answer but yes to his request.

  …

  Thank you for reading Pretend You’re Mine! I hope you enjoyed Harris & Poppy’s story! There is more Everton coming your way this spring!

  …

  Find out if Ainsley or Poppy win the bet. Will Eli and Averly end up together, or kill each other while renovating the bed and breakfast?

  Continue reading for a sneak peek of Make You Mine.

  …

  If you loved Pretend You’re Mine and haven’t met Axel and Lia yet, you can now read their story, Roping Your Heart. Axel and Lia have been best friends their entire lives, but the underlying chemistry between them is too hard to ignore. When Lia returns to Everton and needs a place to live, Axel offers her the spare bedroom in his ranch house. Between late-night snacks and revealing PJs, sparks begin to fly. One dare changes everything between them, and Axel must decide if it’s worth risking his heart.

  Continue reading for a sneak peek of Roping Your Heart.

  chapter 1

  Averly

  I’ve lived my entire life waiting for this. I’ve put off traveling, buying a house, hell, buying expensive underwear for the off-chance that my non-existent love life would suddenly become interesting. If only I gave it the attention I give this place.

  I shake those thoughts away, and I stare up at the old farmhouse—chipped, white siding, overgrown grass, and squeaky porch. It’s perfect. Soon, my dream bed and breakfast will be completely transformed. I’ve planned everything in my life out for this very moment. My degree, my work experience, my perfect credit score, the hobbies I have, all of it has been intentional so the day I owned my own bed and breakfast, I knew everything I needed to run it successfully. I’m even three years ahead of schedule.

  My goal was to open it at the age of thirty-three, and being only thirty, it allows me the time I need for renovations. I squeeze my eyes shut as I think about the renovations. I could’ve bought a place that was ready to open, but it would’ve been outside of my hometown of Everton and not felt like it was truly mine. I’d be taking over someone else’s dream, and I’ve worked too hard for it not to be my own vision.

  I finish assessing the outside, mentally noting all the work that n
eeds to be done, and walk up the porch steps, creaking under my feet. The front porch should’ve probably been the first thing I worked on, but the inside needed a lot more TLC than the outside, starting with stripping away the stale cigar smell that was impregnated on the walls, and it’s dead of winter in Wyoming, which means no one can stand being outdoors for longer than a few minutes.

  I tiptoe along the entrance, avoiding bags and tools as I make my way around the space, shaking off the snow from my boots. The walls are stripped down to their bare bones, the drywall that used to be there now in a pile of trash outside.

  I sigh and smile, spinning around as I look at the progress. Everything must be chaos before it can be tidied up and perfected. The downstairs area will eventually be a living space, reception area, dining room, and kitchen. Right now, it’s one huge space with plywood structures holding the upstairs.

  I find somewhere to drop my purse, so I can search through the magazine I brought with me. I might as well bookmark the entire magazine with the amounts of pages that have the corners folded.

  “Averly.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath, praying for patience today.

  I slowly turn around, plastering a fake smile. “Eli.” I nod once.

  “Why are you here so early?” He crosses his arms and glares at me.

  Eli Hastings, my pain-in-the-ass contractor. There’s only one other man in town I can stand less than Eli, and we don’t talk about him at all.

  “I came to check out the progress and take some mental notes from designs I found here,” I hold up the Country Style magazine.

  “You’re here before my team is, therefore the progress is the same as last night when you left. As for design ideas, you’re going to get in my men’s way by prancing around fantasizing about what this will look like.”

  “I’m not fantasizing, I’m planning. This isn’t a dream, Eli, you and your team are working on it. Besides, I should discuss ideas with you before it’s too late to make any changes.”

  Eli groans and shuts his eyes, running his hand down his face. I shift and cross my arms, the magazine clutched into one of my hands.

  “Averly, we already went through everything. We have plans. We have blueprints. We even have a three-dimensional model of how this place will look. I don’t want anymore changes,” he growls.

  “Listen, Eli,” I placate. “These are small things, ideas, I found that I think would really optimize the use of the space.”

  “Later, I need to get to work now,” he dismisses me.

  I cross my arms and lift an eyebrow. “I’m your client. I pay you.”

  “Fuck,” Eli growls. “Show me what you want to show me then promise you’ll leave for a few hours. Go drink coffee or whatever you girls do, and let me work.” He holds his hand out for the magazine.

  I hesitate before I take a step forward, prepared to show him all the ideas.

  “This is too much, Averly,” Eli’s patience is thinning out.

  “It’s not. Just take a look before you veto every idea I throw your way.” When he doesn’t argue, I begin pointing out different ideas. “I was thinking a drawer like this in the coffee bar would be a great way to store the coffee pods. Like that, they aren’t out in the open cluttering the countertop.” I show him the coffee pods storage that has the space where the pods fit perfectly.

  “I still don’t understand why you’re going with a fancy coffee maker. What’s wrong with a regular pot?”

  “Because if a regular pot brews more than what is drank, I’ll have to throw away perfectly good coffee. With this fancy maker, it will make individual servings.” It’s really none of his business which appliance I use, yet he has made sure he criticizes each choice I make.

  Sometimes I wonder why I even hired him. Eli is good at his job, I’ll give him that. He’s the best, I can admit that. I saw what he did with my brother’s house. The renovations alone brought up the property value, not to mention it went from ugly bachelor pad to gorgeous magazine-worthy home.

  The thing is that Eli’s a jerk. To me at least. We don’t see eye-to-eye. We’ve both been living in this town, and I’ve never much cared for him and his Casanova ways, but now that we’re working together, I want to strangle him. Before I could just avoid him, look away, and interact with him the few times I had to.

  We’re both too by-the-books when it comes to our careers, but outside of work, Eli is carefree and a player. I, on the other hand, am always by-the-book, whether it’s work or social outings.

  “Show me the rest of the things. It’s not like I have all day to sit and flip through this magazine. Unless you’re willing to extend your ridiculous timeline.”

  “My timeline is not ridiculous. You guaranteed you’d be able to have this place up and running by the summer.”

  “You gave us eight months for a major renovation,” he shakes his head. “That’s only possible if we don’t come across any serious issues.”

  “We won’t,” I shake my head.

  “I can’t promise that.” He stands. “Show me the rest later. If you want us to get any work done today, you need to let us start.”

  “Fine.” I shove the magazine in my purse and hoist it on my shoulder. “I’ll be back this afternoon.”

  “See ya,” he waves over his shoulder, already measuring something.

  I step out into the cold and look up at the gray sky. Snowflakes land on my face and I smile. Despite the headache it’s been working with Eli these last couple months, I’m on the right path.

  When I finally closed on this house in the summer, I couldn’t believe it. I’d had my eye on any property that would allow for me to expand it into a bed and breakfast. That meant enough bedrooms, or space to create more rooms, a few acres so guests can enjoy the outdoor area, and a barn for horses.

  This place has it all and then some, including a river that flows through the property a couple miles away from the main house, and a small cottage that would be perfect for me to live in.

  Getting the permits to renovate, as well as the business permits to transform this farmhouse into an actual business took some time. Fortunately, my best friend, Poppy’s, dad is the mayor here, and I got my registrations and forms expedited.

  My brother was the one who recommended Eli for the renovations. Not only had he recently worked on his house, but they’re also friends. Lucky me.

  I was lucky in the sense that Eli had availability to begin working almost immediately, and he was the most affordable company I spoke with. Not to mention that despite my dislike for his personality, he’s trustworthy when it comes to handing over huge chunks of change. And getting this business started is costing me a lot more than a pretty penny.

  Doing as Eli suggested, I head to Cup-O-Joe, the coffee shop in our town center, and do some work on my website. This may be the only time I take his advice, but even I have to admit it’s the smartest choice at the moment. It’s my least favorite part, so I have fallen behind when it comes to researching SEO, data analysis, and looking up my competitors. Having a great website that’s easy to use for any age that wants to reserve a room or learn more about the bed and breakfast is a priority.

  Opening my laptop, I put on my headphones and look over my website, under construction just like my bed and breakfast. Patience is a must in times like this.

  I check off items from my to-do list as I work, only pausing to order a second coffee.

  “Hi, Averly, how’s the bed and breakfast coming along?” Mrs. Dunne, one of our Everton neighbors, asks.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Dunne. It’s great. They’re working on it right now, and I’m here catching up on some work as well.” I smile as I grab my coffee from the barista.

  “I’m so happy to hear that. You’ll keep the town updated, right? I want to make sure to share it with friends once you’re open.”

  “Thank you, I’ll be sure to share once I have an official opening date.”

  “Wonderful. Take care.” She grabs her own coffee and he
ads out the door.

  If there’s one thing I love about living in a small town, it’s the community that comes with it. Sure, sometimes people rather gossip, but they’re always willing to help and support you. Mostly, anyway. Unfortunately, every town has their bad seeds, but I’ve learned to ignore those. And soon, the leader of them will be leaving Everton, hopefully for good.

  …

  chapter 2

  Averly

  “The walls look good,” I comment to Eli as he walks me through the progress. His team has installed the drywall, finally giving the space a clearer view of how the floor plan will look. It’s amazing how small changes make big impacts.

  “Thanks,” Eli nods, leading me into the kitchen, still bare. “The cabinets and stove will go along that wall.” He points to the wall in front of us. “Here, we’ll put the sink with cabinets below it and some more counter space.” My attention moves to the adjacent wall.

  “And the island here?” I stand in the middle of the room.

  “Yes, but…” Eli’s face turns hard and defensive, before he continues speaking. “This beam has to stay.” He slaps his hand against the wooden structure.

  “What? No. We said this would go.” I shake my head.

  “We said it would go if it wasn’t a vital part of the structure. This beam supports the ceiling.”

  “Find another solution. I watch home improvement shows, and they use horizontal beams in situations like this.”

  “Yes, but you’re expanding the kitchen more than the original house was, so we already had to find other solutions for the wall that was there.” He points to an open space.

  “Your job is to find ways around these situations.”

  “My job is to build you a space you love but that will also hold for years to come.” Eli’s jaw clenches.

  “Figure something out, or I’ll knock it down myself.” I cross my arms, not backing down from this. We have plans drawn out, consultations about design and floor plans. Knowing Eli, he’s giving me a hard time on purpose. Ever since he started this project, he’s made it his mission to damper my good mood and excitement about this place.

  “If the house comes tumbling down, don’t blame me.” He shoots his stupid pointer finger in my direction.