by Piper James
“The one and only,” I said.
“No wonder you’re out of it today. It’s going to be a shit show, dealing with her and pretending to be in love. Why in the hell would you pick her, of all people?”
My back teeth clenched as I fought the urge to leap over my desk and punch Dane in the jaw. He must have seen the murder in my expression, because he flinched and held up his palms in surrender.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t mean any insult.” His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head. “Why are you being so touchy? I thought you hated her?”
My muscles relaxed, and I leaned back with a sigh. “I don’t hate her. I never did, really. But she hates me. And that’s what makes her so perfect for this. She’s guaranteed not to get attached. It’s one hundred percent business.”
“And does she know that restoring a classic Bel Air is on your bucket list?”
I laughed. “No. I sold it like it was going to be a chore. She wants it done by Christmas, and I played up how hard it might be to find parts for it that quickly.”
Dane whistled. “Six weeks? That’s going to be tough. Do you know how much work it needs?”
“No,” I said, the smile finally leaving my face. “I guess her dad was restoring it for her mom. He died suddenly, without warning, a few years ago, and Ivy wants to surprise her mom with it as a Christmas gift.”
“That’s really nice,” Dane said, his eyes unfocused for a moment before he zeroed back in on me. “So, she pretends to be your fiancée to get Charity Glasscott off your back, and you get to do something you’ve always wanted to do for her in return. Am I getting this right?”
“That about sums it up,” I said.
“So what has you in a funk? It seems like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“Not everything,” I said, pulling the browser back up and turning the monitor so he could see it.
He let out a low whistle as his eyes drifted from ring to ring. “Pricey.”
“Yeah, and I don’t want to choose the wrong one. Which one do you think she’d like best?”
Dane shrugged. “Hell if I know. I don’t really know her that well, man. Why don’t you ask Rafe?”
“I haven’t told him yet,” I admitted as movement through the glass behind him caught my eye. “Oh, shit.”
I turned my screen back and closed out the browser as my office door creaked open, and my sister slipped through.
“Hey, Lola. What brings you by?” I asked.
“Hey, Nate,” she said, then looked at Dane. “Hi.”
“What’s up, cutie?” he asked, his tone entirely too flirtatious for my liking.
“Goodbye, Dane.” My voice was an octave deeper and brooked no argument.
He rolled his eyes and stood, giving my sister a comically wide berth as he moved around her toward the door. As he passed through the doorway, he paused and turned back to Lola, his eyes giving her a slow up and down.
“Looking good today, Lola,” he said, giving her a charming wink before his eyes cut back to me. “Real good.”
“Out!” I shouted, pointing a finger.
Dane smirked and turned to go, whistling a peppy tune as he sauntered away. I shook my head, only taking a moment to plot his death by dismemberment before turning my attention back to Lola. I motioned her into the chair Dane vacated.
“You know he does that just to mess with you, right?” she asked.
“And it works every time,” I mumbled. “So, what’s up?”
Lola lived in the dorms at her university, which was a half an hour away. It wasn’t like she was just in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by. There had to be a reason.
“Actually, I was hoping you could take a look at my car,” she said. “It’s been making a weird knocking sound.”
“Oh, I see,” I teased. “You’re not here to see me. You just want to use me for my boss mechanic skills.”
She tilted her head. “If it’s too much trouble, I could just ask Dane—”
“Shut your mouth, woman.”
She chuckled, but something about it seemed off. I studied her for a moment, noting her bright eyes and pink cheeks.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not getting sick or something, are you?”
“What? No. I’m fine.” She stood up and adjusted her purse strap over her shoulder. “Can someone give me a ride to the house so I don’t have to wait here?”
“Did you call Rafe? You know he doesn’t live alone anymore.”
“Yes, Dad. I did,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Rafe is at the hospital, and Jessa is at her dad’s.”
“Okay,” I said, raising my hands. “We just don’t want a repeat of what happened before.”
I trembled with a whole-body shiver, and Lola laughed. When Rafe first started dating Jessa, we’d shown up for one of our usual family dinners…which Rafe had forgotten about. Jessa let us in while Rafe was in the bedroom, and he’d come running out bare-assed naked with a handful of condoms.
I didn’t know if I’d ever fully recover from the sight. At least, not without psychotherapy.
I grabbed my keys, tasked Dane with pulling Lola’s car into one of the bays, and drove her to Rafe and Jessa’s. It was still weird thinking of our childhood home as their place, but I was getting used to it. Rafe was happy, and that was all that mattered.
On my way back to the shop, I pulled into a strip mall that housed a women’s boutique, a tailor, and a few other high-end stores. Down at the far end, I pulled into a parking spot and took a few deep breaths to chase away the nerves.
If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right. I climbed from the car, slamming the door behind me in my haste. Striding forward, I jerked open the glass door and walked inside the brightly lit space filled with glass cabinets.
“Hello, sir, and welcome to Winchester Jewelers. How may I help you today?”
I inhaled deeply, let it out slowly, and said, “I need an engagement ring.”
10
Ivy
“This is stupid. I’m stupid. Why did I ever agree to this?”
I was staring at myself in the bathroom mirror—Nate’s bathroom mirror—where I’d escaped to as soon as he’d let me in his front door. I must’ve seemed like some kind of maniac, asking to use his toilet instead of saying hello like a normal person.
I didn’t know why I was so nervous. I’d known Nate for years, hated him for nearly as long, yet here I was with sweaty palms and pits, trying to decide if I could actually follow through with my end of the deal.
Actually, I was lying to myself. I knew why I was nervous.
Nate. He’d been almost…charming the last time I was here, and it had reminded me of Original Nate. The Nate I’d wanted to bump uglies with every time we breathed the same air. The Nate whose smile was sexy and secretive, not cocky and annoying. The Nate who’d stolen my breath away every time he turned those baby blues on me.
I steeled my spine and gritted my teeth. I could do this. I just had to remind myself that Nate was a class-A asshole, and that this whole relationship was a business deal. He would get Charity Glasscott off his back, and I would get my mother’s beloved Bel Air restored. Then we’d go our separate ways—or, at least, back to loathing each other whenever we occupied the same space.
End of story.
I washed my hands for show and walked through his bedroom with my eyes plastered to the door. I didn’t even glance at the bed once, making myself proud. I could totally do this.
My internal monologue and my feet screeched to a halt when I walked back into the living room to find Nate on bended knee. He was holding up a small, velvet box, the lid open to reveal a sparkly diamond.
My entire body flashed hot as my pulse pounded in my ears. Nate gave me his best shit-eating grin as he placed his free hand over his heart.
“Ivy Marie Anderson, will you do me the great honor of being my fake fiancée?”
When I didn’t move or speak, he climbed to his feet and walked toward me.
Reaching forward, he took my hand and placed the box into my palm. With eyes so wide they burned, I studied the ring nestled in white silk folds.
The center stone was a clear princess cut gem surrounded by a row of smaller diamonds. The band was a pretty rose gold that sparkled with diamonds studded down each side. I was dazzled by its brilliance, unable to even form a coherent thought.
“The jeweler said it’s called a halo setting,” Nate offered when I didn’t speak.
“How did you know my middle name?” I asked, my eyes never leaving the ring.
“What?” he asked, obviously confused.
“My middle name. You said Ivy Marie Anderson. How did you know it?”
I knew I sounded ridiculous, latching onto something so mundane while I was holding a fucking engagement ring in my hand. But it was too much. My brain went a little haywire, so I’d just said the first coherent thought I had.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I must have heard it from Rafe at some point.”
I nodded, and my eyes still hadn’t strayed from that glorious ring. It was perfect in every way, and something I would have dreamed of receiving from a real boyfriend under different circumstances. Its perfection made this whole situation feel almost…icky.
“Ivy. Do you like it? We can go trade it for something else if you don’t,” Nate said, filling the awkward silence.
“No!” I shouted, pulling the ring into my chest and finally meeting his gaze. “I mean…yes. I like it. It’s fine.”
For a fraction of a second, his face fell like he was disappointed with my mediocre response. He quickly smoothed out his features and gave me a smile.
“Good. Try it on. Let’s see if it fits.”
When I didn’t move, he plucked the box from my fingers. Pulling out the ring, he tossed the box aside and held out his free hand. Ever so slowly, I placed my left hand into his, my whole body shaking with unexplained nerves. With gentle movements, he slipped the ring onto my finger.
“Look at that. Perfect fit,” he said, his thumb brushing across my knuckles before he released me.
It did fit perfectly, and it looked amazing on my hand. I balled up my fist and shoved it into the pocket of my hoodie as I swallowed thickly against the emotion clogging my throat. I looked at Nate and forced a smile to my lips.
“Thanks. It’s great, really. Should we sit down and get started?”
The whole reason I’d come over was so Nate and I could write our story, so to speak. We’d known each other for years, but we didn’t really know each other. The only thing we’d shown each other was sarcasm and anger, so he’d suggested a little “getting to know you” game to learn the finer details. We also needed a plausible story to explain how we were suddenly engaged when no one knew we were even dating.
Milestone was a small town. If we were dating, everyone would know. Which meant…
“When was the last time you had sex?” I blurted as we took our seats on the couch.
“Excuse me?” he asked, looking utterly shocked.
My face heated with a blush, but I pressed on. “How long has it been, Nate?”
“A gentleman never tells,” he shot back with an arched brow.
“We both know you’re no gentleman, and you need to tell me. You know how this town is. If you’ve been sleeping around like I’m pretty sure you have, how are we supposed to sell this relationship? I refuse to be seen as some chump who ignores your indiscretions and stays with you.”
He sighed and leaned his head against the back of the couch. “I guess you’re right. The last person I slept with was Charity, and that was four months ago.”
“Really?” I asked, honestly shocked.
I’d had this unwanted image in my head of Nate sleeping with a different girl every week…if not more often than that. Working all the time and only hanging with Rafe meant I wasn’t privy to a lot of town gossip, though I had overheard a few stories of clandestine affairs at the grocery store and in the coffee shop I frequented. So I knew people talked. They just didn’t talk to me.
“Really,” he said. “I’m not the whore you seem to think I am, Ivy. Do I have a problem getting some ass when I want it? No. But I have to be careful. When I’m not, shit like this happens.”
And there’s the Nate I love to hate.
“Fine,” I grunted. “So I guess we’ve been dating for almost four months.”
“Wait. Wait. Wait. You haven’t told me how long it’s been for you.”
“Next subject.”
“Come on, Ivy. It’s only fair. And a fiancé should know these things.”
“It’s been longer than four months, and that’s all you need to know. No one is going to ask you about that.”
It had been much, much longer than four months for me. I was embarrassed to admit it, but it had been nearly a year since I’d dated anyone, and that guy had only lasted a couple of weeks. He couldn’t handle my busy schedule or the fact that my best friend was a guy. I had a feeling the latter, rather than the former was the real reason he’d ended things. Jealous bastard. He wasn’t even that good in bed.
“Fine. I’ll take it, but I reserve the right to ask again.” Before I could argue, he went on. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue,” I said without thinking as I stared into his very blue eyes.
“Mine, too,” he said smiling. “Thongs or granny panties?”
“What?” I exclaimed. “You don’t need to know that.”
“Sure, I do. What if I want to be seen buying my lady some lingerie? I need to know what you prefer.”
“Wouldn’t that be about what you prefer?” I asked, arching a brow.
“Usually, yes. But I think I want my fiancée to be comfortable when she struts around our bedroom in silk and lace.”
I rolled my eyes, conceding. “Neither. I like bikini-cut underwear and bras with no underwire.”
His eyes fell to my chest, and I was suddenly glad I’d thrown on my bulkiest hoodie. At least, I told myself I was glad. My heart didn’t seem to get the memo as it picked up speed.
“What size?” he asked, licking his lips.
“Nate.” His eyes darted up to meet mine, one dark brow arched. “Ugh, you’re such an ass. I wear a 36C.”
He nodded, and one corner of his mouth turned up. “I wear a medium, and I prefer boxers to briefs. You know, in case you’d like to shop for me.”
“Not happening. Next subject.”
We spent the next hour discussing safe topics—brands of toothpaste, favorite foods, how we take our coffee. Things like that.
He told me all about opening the shop and how successful it had become, and I told him about college and the joy I found in my work. He described his relationship with Dane, who was his best friend as well as his employee, and I told him how I was becoming close with Jessa and her friends.
I told him how losing my father had affected me and my mom. And, though I knew the story from Rafe, Nate told me his experience with losing first his mother in an accident, then his father to suicide.
“He left us. On purpose. We were just kids, and he decided to leave us all alone.”
My eyes burned with emotion as I let him get it all out, uninterrupted. I felt a little ashamed that I’d never really believed him capable of deep, emotional feelings. All I saw after that night at Hero’s was a shallow, soulless whoremonger.
“Enough of that,” he said suddenly, clearing his throat. “On to the good stuff. Top or bottom?”
“Wh-what?” I stuttered, shocked out of the haze of empathy I’d been swimming in.
“Which do you prefer? Top or bottom?”
“You don’t need to know that,” I said, sniffing primly.
“Sure, I do.”
“No. You don’t.”
“Ivy, how am I supposed to order your drink if I don’t know which you prefer?”
“Huh?” I asked, completely confused.
“Top shelf or bottom shelf? Belvedere or Smirnoff? Milagro or
Jose Cuervo?”
“Oh, uh, I like light beer, actually.”
“Good to know,” he smirked. “But what did you think I meant?”
“Nothing. I don’t know,” I blurted, my face hot with a blush.
“Oh, you dirty little minx,” he grinned. “You thought I meant in bed?” He tilted his head. “Which do you prefer?”
“You’re an asshole,” I said, “and I think that’s enough for one night.”
He was mocking me, reminding me of why I’d spent so long hating his cocky ass. Ugh, stop it Ivy. No thinking about cocks or asses. Not when it comes to Nate Walton.
“Ah, come on, Ivy. I was just messing with you. Sit back down,” he cajoled, laughter crinkling his eyes and making them appear even bluer than before.
I needed to get out of there.
“Goodnight, Nate.”
11
Nate
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here?”
Ouch. That was not the reception I was hoping for. But, in all honesty, I had just shown up at Ivy’s work out of the blue.
It had been a few days since our little study session at my house, and I thought it was time to present ourselves as an engaged couple to the public. The sooner Charity heard I was in a committed relationship, the sooner she’d back off and forget about me. This whole thing would be over, and Ivy and I could go back to our normal lives.
“Is that any way for you to greet your man?” I said, giving her my sexiest smirk.
“I’m working, Nate,” she said, her finger swiping the screen of a tablet as her toe tapped rapidly against the tile floor.
“Sorry,” I said, “but I wanted to do this face-to-face.”
That got her attention. She looked up from her tablet, her expression equal parts inquisitive and anxious. She brushed a lock of hair back from her face, and I noticed her hand was bare.
“Where’s your ring?” I asked, unwilling to examine the sudden rush of disappointment and possessiveness that coursed through me.
“Oh, it’s in my purse,” she said, tucking her hand into the front pocket of her scrubs. “I don’t wear it at work.”
