Dirty Little Midlife Mess: A Fake Relationship Romantic Comedy (Heart’s Cove Hotties Book 2)

by Lilian Monroe

  12

  Simone

  The girls aren’t at my apartment. I look at the neatly made bed and the two washed glasses beside the sink and let out a long sigh. At least they cleaned up after themselves. They’re not bad kids. If Fiona gets mad at me for this, I’ll deal with it when it happens. I don’t regret going to pick them up—I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

  Dropping my purse on the kitchen table, I sink down onto the couch and close my eyes. When I open them, my Birkin is staring back at me. I hadn’t even noticed I’d grabbed it on my way out. Maybe it’s the bag’s fault. I’ve hauled it around all these years while things have gone wrong left, right, and center. I should burn it or get Dorothy to stuff it with sage and crystals, or something. An offering to whatever curse has been following me around.

  I’m starting to sound like Candice.

  Sighing, I rub my temples. Wesley’s family is staying in town. We’ll need to interact with townspeople while we’re pretending to be a couple. There’s no doubt in my mind that this charade will explode in my face.

  What else is new?

  A knock on the door makes me lift my head. I trudge toward the sound and open the door to see Dorothy on the other side. A woman in her seventies with a love of animal-print clothing, Dorothy is like the town’s favorite aunt. Today’s outfit is a bright pink-and-green leopard-print top with loose, wide-leg white trousers. It works. She looks quirky and glamorous.

  “May I?” She gestures behind me.

  I step aside and groan in appreciation when she hands me an iced coffee. “You’re an angel.”

  We move to the couch and sit down. Dorothy tells me about new guests at the hotel that have been causing issues for three days, then finally waves her hand and runs an assessing eye over my face. “You look stressed, Simone. What’s going on?”

  I open my mouth and close it again. What can I say? I settle on a shrug. “Long day yesterday.”

  “How’s work?”

  Nonexistent. “I’m looking for more clients. You know how it is to run a business—feast or famine.” And if you’re me, mostly famine.

  “Well, you know Marge and I have been very happy with your services. This is usually a slow season for us, but it’s been a steady stream of guests for weeks now. Your copywriting and social media strategies have been very effective.”

  I let my lips slide into a smile. At least something’s going right. “I’m happy to hear it.”

  Dorothy sips her coffee, looking around my apartment. “You came in with Wesley yesterday.” Her eyes meet mine, shrewd and curious. “With his family.”

  “I, uh…” I clear my throat. “I did.”

  The older woman hums, crossing her ankles over each other as she leans back. I’ve only lived in Heart’s Cove for a few months, but Dorothy and I have grown close. We’re both insane, probably, and no one else understands our particular brand of crazy.

  But Dorothy doesn’t look crazy right now. Her eyes twinkle as she glances at me again, her painted red lips curving into a smile. “You wouldn’t happen to know who that man was, would you?”

  I frown. A man… My eyebrows jump up. “Eli?”

  “Was that his name?” Her eyes are all innocence, but Dorothy won’t be winning an Oscar any time soon. She knew damn well what Eli’s name was, I’m sure of it. She probably found out through whatever network of Heart’s Cove spies she employs.

  “He works for Wes’s uncle Sean.” I take a sip of coffee to hide my smile.

  “Does he, now,” Dorothy muses, running her nail along the edge of her coffee cup. She clears her throat. “And is he…married?”

  I’ve spoken to Eli a few times. When he first got settled in the cottage, I went to make sure he was doing okay and interrupted him video-calling his daughter and new baby granddaughter, but when I asked, he spoke of his wife in the past tense. “I think he was,” I say slowly. “I got the sense his wife passed away. I’m not sure when or how.”

  “How sad.” Dorothy’s face doesn’t look sad, though. She turns to look me in the eyes. “Would you… Do you think you could introduce us?”

  My lips curve. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Good girl.” Dorothy pats my knee, the gesture tender. “But do me a favor, will you?”

  I arch my brows, waiting.

  “Don’t tell the she-devil I asked.”

  “Agnes?”

  Dorothy grunts in acknowledgement. “She has a history of scaring away my lovers. I’d rather this…Eli…get a chance to know me before she roars and sends him running.”

  “I thought Agnes and Mr. Cheswick were together,” I muse.

  “They are. Or at least, they’re as close as anyone could ever get to that hag.”

  I hide my grin as I sip my iced coffee, but can’t quite stop myself from chuckling as I slump down on the sofa, kicking my legs up to rest on the coffee table.

  The two of us talk about everything and nothing until Dorothy glances at me with a curious smile. “So, you and Wes, huh? I knew there was something there when the two of you walked into the hotel the other day. He doesn’t look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

  Ha. Right. The Heart’s Cove rumor mill is in full swing. So there were two reasons for her to come here and ply me with coffee—her own romance, and her need to know what’s going on with mine.

  My face is a neutral mask. “I think you’re mistaken, Dor. Wes and I are just friends.”

  “Of course you are.” She pats my leg. “Life is short, honey. Screw the daylights out of him while you have a chance.” She winks, pulls herself off the couch, and tells me she has to leave.

  When I close the door behind her, I let out a long sigh and look around my little apartment.

  I’m forty-four years old, divorced, I live by myself, I’m a flailing business owner on the verge of going broke, and I have a fake boyfriend. My life is a mess.

  I might as well head back to Wesley’s place and face the music. His uncle is staying, and we need to figure out how long this charade will last—but at least there’s a silver lining. If Dorothy and Eli get together, not everything will be a loss.

  Wes is sitting on the back porch when I get back, book in hand, sun gleaming off his bronze skin. He’s shirtless, which is annoyingly distracting, and nibbling his bottom lip in a way that makes me want to fall on the ground and spread my legs.

  “Hey.”

  He glances up, that lush bottom lip falling from between his teeth. Ugh. “Hi. Did you get everything figured out at your place?”

  “Sure did. Where’s the dynamic duo?”

  “They’ve gone to scope out the sporting goods and outdoor stores in the area.”

  “So they’re really thinking of staying and setting up a new location, huh?”

  Wes lets out a long sigh. “I have a feeling there’s more to it than that, but yeah. It appears so.”

  I sink into a chair next to him and look out at the ocean. This property really is gorgeous. The balcony juts out, a short cliff below us making it seem like we’re floating above the ocean. The sound of the waves crashing on the rocks below is soothing, and if I turn my brain off for just a moment, I can feel my muscles slowly unwind.

  Then Wesley speaks. “So…we should talk.”

  I swivel my head to look at him and catch him staring right at me. Green eyes search mine from under thick lashes, something like concern swirling within them. He’s ridiculously handsome. This would be a lot easier if my body didn’t see him and blare, All systems go!

  “Can you not do that?”

  Wes frowns. “Do what?”

  I wave my hands in his general direction. “That.”

  “I’m literally just sitting here, Simone.”

  “Exactly. It’s distracting.”

  He stares at me for a moment longer, then lets out a sigh and shakes his head. “While you were out, I did some thinking.”

  “Did you survive?”

  “Huh?” He meets my gaze again.


  “Well, I know thinking is very strenuous for you. Just wondering if you made it through.”

  A growl rumbles through his throat. “I’m trying to talk to you about something serious.”

  And I’m trying not to have a nervous breakdown.

  “Right. Sorry. Go ahead.” I cast my gaze out to the ocean, hoping it’ll help me focus. I can still feel him though, sitting inches away from me. Shirtless. Looking good enough to lick. Or suck. Or bite. Last night, it felt good to fall asleep in his arms. Too good.

  I had a dream that he and I… Never mind. Not important.

  “I know we agreed on this…arrangement…for one week, but with my uncle and Alina staying in town, I have a proposition.”

  “I love it when men proposition me.”

  “Simone.” A snarl rattles just behind the sound of my name. It turns me on, because I’ve officially lost my mind.

  I say nothing in response. It’s safer that way.

  “I’ll keep paying you,” Wesley finally says.

  I turn to stare at him. “You’ll pay me to pretend to be your girlfriend for an indefinite amount of time?”

  “I’ll pay you five grand per month they’re here, plus whatever expenses you might incur. If they’re here past the end of January, we’ll stage a breakup.” He winces at the words, but I don’t want to read into that right now.

  Instead, I just stare at him. “This is insane.”

  “You should feel right at home, then.”

  I roll my eyes. “Ha-ha.”

  A grin teases at the corner of his lips. I look away before I catch sight of the dimple.

  “Five grand a month, plus the five grand for this week. I’ll throw in another grand for the last week of November. Think about it, Simone. You could make sixteen grand by the end of January. Five this week, one next, and ten for each December and January.”

  “Thank you for the math lesson, Professor.” I brave another glance at him and catch him clenching his jaw, fire sparking in his eyes. Oops. Maybe I’m taking this too far. I need to rein in the sass.

  Sixteen thousand dollars for what, ten weeks of girlfriend duties? That’s a lot of money, and truth be told—I haven’t minded being Wesley’s fake girlfriend. That money could last me a few months the way I’m living now. I could take my time to find new clients and get settled in Heart’s Cove. I could even take five grand and buy myself a little car so I don’t have to walk or borrow other people’s vehicles. Sixteen thousand dollars would solve a lot of my more urgent problems. It would give me space to breathe.

  Between using my cash to invest in the café, moving to a new town, and starting the marketing business from scratch here, I’m more than broke. I’m dead-ass broke. Don’t have two pennies to rub together. Wesley’s offering me a way out. All I have to do is spend all my days and nights with him and pretend to be madly in love with him. Easy.

  “Simone?”

  “What about other people? My friends? Am I supposed to lie to them, too? I can hide here for a week, but two or three months is too long. People will notice. Hell, people already noticed me driving around in your truck. This morning, Dorothy told me to screw the daylights out of you!”

  Wes’s eyebrows jump up, his eyes flashing as his gaze falls to my mouth. He catches himself and looks away. “It’s up to you. We can tell them the truth or we can pretend in front of them, too.”

  I worry the edge of my shirt, running my fingers over the hem and back again. If I tell Fiona, Jen, and Candice about this, they’ll know what I did for the café lease. That will cause questions I don’t feel like answering, like, Why would you agree to that? What were you thinking? Are you sleeping together? Why not?

  The more people know we’re faking this, the greater the chance that someone will slip up and tell Sean and Alina, and the whole thing will be a waste. It’s easier if no one knows. Once we have our fake breakup, I can brush it off as a casual relationship. No questions, no fuss, no strings attached.

  “We’ll pretend,” I finally answer. “We’ll pretend in front of everyone.”

  Wes nods. “Okay.”

  The door opening behind us makes us both turn our heads. Alina’s beautiful face appears in the opening, her eyes glued to Wes’s chest. An ugly feeling creeps through my chest as her eyes flick to me for the briefest moment then back to Wes, the want clearly written in her eyes.

  Yes, yes. It’s a nice chest. We all know it.

  “Can I help you with anything?” My tone is short. Harsh. I sound like a possessive girlfriend.

  Alina ignores me. “How are you feeling, Wes?”

  “Same as I did a couple hours ago. Fine.”

  “I bought you some chocolates. We passed a beautiful little chocolatier in the next town over. I remembered you love chocolate-almond bark, so I got you a big bag.” She dangles the clear plastic bag, her manicured fingers sliding along the green ribbon along the bag’s closure. The movement is almost…sensual.

  Well aren’t you just great, Alina. Did you buy your own boyfriend anything, or just Wes?

  I take a deep breath. He’s not actually my boyfriend. I’m not actually jealous. I’m just high-strung and going through a lot of stress. I just need a day or two to get used to this new…thing. Money will help. Everything will be fine. Alina can sleep with Wes for all I care. Maybe that can be the cause of our fake breakup.

  But as I stand up and excuse myself, my stomach balls itself up into a tight fist. The thought of Wes sleeping with his ex-fiancée makes me want to vomit. The thought of him sleeping with anyone makes me want to be sick. Pretending or not, I hate the thought of him with someone else.

  So, basically, I’m screwed.

  I’ve entered into this stupid arrangement because I have no other options, but my feelings are a mess and my hormones are a constant, deafening marching band stomping through my veins. I want to sleep with Wes and rip his head off and also make sure Alina never touches or looks at him.

  I nod to Eli and Sean, who are hovering around the refrigerator, and escape upstairs. I collapse onto the bed and scrub my face.

  Wonderful. What else can go wrong with my life? Next thing, Nate will materialize and ask me why I haven’t returned any of his calls after we slept together, thinking he still has a claim on my life. Or maybe Fiona will find out about Clancy’s party and our friendship will be irreparably damaged. Or maybe another flood will ruin our new café, and I’ll lose the last of the money I had to invest in anything.

  But yeah, my forties are going great. Just fucking dandy.

  13

  Wesley

  It takes us all a few days to settle into a new routine. By the time Sean and Alina are here for five days, I’m just about getting used to waking up with Simone in my bed. Those little booty shorts aren’t getting any longer, though, and my body seems to think it’s a good idea to wake me up with a raging boner every morning.

  My arms are sore from the crutches, but all in all, I’m getting used to using them. The doctor said four to six weeks before I can put weight on it, though, and in the meantime, I feel useless.

  On the morning of the sixth day of my uncle’s visit, Simone wakes up next to me and stretches her arms above her head, yawning as she arches her back. My gaze snags on her T-shirt and the way it clings to her breasts. I should look away. I should really, really look away. No, not down to her legs. Away.

  There. The ceiling. That’s better.

  “Yesterday, Candice asked me if you wanted to come to Thanksgiving at her place,” Simone says, her voice still thick with sleep. “She said Eli, Sean, and Alina should come too. I think she feels guilty about the whole broken ankle thing. Blames herself for opening Four Cups and causing the injury.” She rolls onto her side, tucking her hands under her head. Her eyes flash, an arch tugging at her brow. “I told her not to worry, you were the moron who went stomping on a rotten roof, but she insisted.”

  “Stomping, huh.”

  “I think she’ll be offended if you don’t come.”<
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  “You realize how it’ll look for the five of us to show up together.”

  “We’re supposed to be in love. It would be weird if we didn’t spend Thanksgiving together.”

  “True,” I say, chewing the word.

  Simone sighs. “Plus, Dorothy and Margaret will be there too, and…” Simone bites her lip. Heat lashes across my body. She gives me a coy smile that does nothing to temper the flames. “I think Dor might have an…ulterior motive.”

  I arch my brows in question.

  She grins. “She’s interested in Eli.”

  “Eli? My uncle’s driver, Eli?”

  Simone nods, grinning.

  “You’re okay with everyone thinking we’re dating?”

  “Wasn’t this the point of this whole thing?”

  I nod, turning back to the ceiling. She’s right. It was the point of this whole thing, but going to a Thanksgiving dinner together makes it seem so much more…real. The past five days have been fairly isolated at the house, with no prying eyes and no pointed questions.

  Her hand slides onto my forearm, drawing my gaze. “Are you okay? Should we pull the plug on this whole thing?” Blue eyes widen slightly as she searches my face, making me feel more naked and exposed than if I were wearing nothing at all. When she looks at me like that, I feel like she can see down to my soul.

  My own gaze betrays me. It drops to her lips—like it always seems to do when I can’t stop myself in time—and I watch her lips part, tongue sliding out to moisten that pink rosebud mouth. This woman is fucking killing me. I’m lying in bed next to her, talking about going to a Thanksgiving dinner with all our family and friends, and I can’t even reach over and run my fingers over her cheek. I can’t kiss her, or touch her, or do anything but lie here and crave her.

  “Wes?” Her brows draw together. She props her head on her elbow, waiting for me to say something.

  My hand moves of its own will, and I don’t have the discipline to stop it. The pads of my fingertips brush her jaw, my thumb coming to rest on her chin.