Fletcher winced. “I can’t even begin to describe what it feels like to have your boss’s fingernails stroking along your cock. How violating it is. Look, I’m trying to get ahead professionally, keeping my head down, and working hard. But I’m being thwarted by this horny woman old enough to be my grandmother trying to get with me.”
Cricket shook her head. “Dude, get in line. You’re describing something that probably ninety percent of women have experienced at least once. This is nothing new. It’s just less common for a man to deal with it. I had a boss in Paris who daily came up behind me and pressed his erection into my ass. But I didn’t make anyone pretend we were getting married because of it.”
“Look, Crick. I know the last person in the world you want to do anything nice for is me. And while I’m sad about that, I completely understand. But if you can find it in your heart to do this, I will be forever indebted to you.”
She stood up, leaning over, her hands resting on a pile of papers on her desk. She liked this power position over a groveling ex who’d left her in a position of pain and weakness for so long. In all truth though, it wasn’t her jam to be a jerk to the guy. Well, maybe at one point she would have. But not now. She’d once loved him with all her heart, and for that, he’d always own a little piece of it. And she couldn’t turn away someone who’d played such an important role in her life. Even if it was going to be super awkward and she was going to likely regret this after he returned home and left her having to explain away yet again how they actually were no longer a couple, even though this time it would only be a fake one.
She heaved a sigh. “Doing this goes against every instinct in my body, Fletcher. And let me make it clear to you: the only reason I’m agreeing is because you were an important piece of my life for a long time. I can’t undo that, nor can I take away that for a long time you were the love of my life. Yes, you hurt me terribly, but I’m over it and even stronger for it. And I certainly don’t benefit by denying you something that matters to you.”
Fletch clasped his hands together. “Thank you, Cricket. Thank you so much.” He stood to hug her and she pushed him away.
“But,” she said, hesitating. “There will be ground rules. One is that there will be no physical contact—”
“That’s impossible if we’re to be believable as a couple who’s getting married.”
She shrugged. “That’s yours to figure out. I’ll fake it but I won’t—I can’t—be all lovey-dovey with you. It would resurrect too much and I don’t want to revisit some of the most painful parts of my life, thanks. Ultimately this means we appear together as little as possible—and I can blame my work for that, which is entirely believable. If this is a no-go for you, well, then, so be it. If you wanted someone who was going to be all over you, you should’ve found yourself an escort service for hire.”
He thrust his lower lip out in a pout. “I guess I’ll take what I can get,” he said, disappointment written on his fallen face. “But you’ll put the ring on at least?”
She rolled her eyes. Ugh. Some cheap, cheesy engagement ring from Fletcher? Really? “All right. Fine. But it better not give me a rash—I know you probably got this stupid thing out of a gumball machine and it’s going to be bad enough wearing it, let alone if it causes me skin problems. I’ll wear it when we’re together and if your boss is nearby. And if I take it off, it’s because I’m cooking and I never wear my rings when I’m in the kitchen. Deal?”
He nodded slowly, then reached out his hand to shake hers. “I know you said no touching, but can we at least shake on it to make it official?”
She extended her arm slowly as he reached to slide the ring onto her left ring finger. Her breath hitched in her throat—there was a time this moment would have been the pinnacle of her dreams, a forever future with the man she loved with such intensity it was almost overwhelming. And while she wanted to say that at this very moment, she felt at best ambivalence and at worst disgust, she’d be lying. Instead, her heart was pounding a staccato beat all the way up in her throat, and she could feel a flush of red scurry up from her chest, past her neck, and across her face. For the first time, she sensed the warmth of his hands on hers and could only remember how his touch had aroused her, gave her goose bumps, made her think only the dirtiest of thoughts about what she would do to him once she got her hands on him in private. Too bad those thoughts were so not part of the new deal between them. She looked down at her flour-stained shirt to see her nipples standing at attention through the flimsy jersey fabric that was right now betraying her thoughts to her former lover. And she wondered if her body might be on to something. It had been an awfully long time since she’d been with a man, and maybe this fake engagement thing would be a prime time to conduct a fake affair with her fake fiancé. After all, why not kill all birds with one stone? She shook her head against the thought.
“Oh, and one more thing,” he said.
She squinted at him, worried about whatever bomb he was going to drop on her now. “Ugh. What now?”
“Just so you know, my pet name for you is Boo Bear.”
Well, geez. This was going to be the longest week of her life.
Chapter Seven
The one other takeaway from Mrs. Rayburn’s sex ed class in middle school was that the human body had all sorts of ways of broadcasting things someone’s head might not ever want anyone to know. One only need look at every boy in junior high school to know this: walking around with a textbook strategically placed over his crotch in an attempt to disguise the burgeoning hard-on that he couldn’t help and desperately wanted to rein in but couldn’t.
So looking at Cricket’s involuntary response to his merely placing his hands on hers was telling: her nipples were standing at attention, and it wasn’t because she was cold. At least he hoped it wasn’t. She was turned on... as turned on as he was at the feel of her skin on his. His heartbeat raced a bit and, astonished, he blinked a few times. When he broke things off with her, it wasn’t because he was no longer attracted to her, but rather because he was trying to do what was right—not lead her on and think they could conduct their relationship long-distance. He made a clean break of things to spare her the sadness and yearning that would no doubt overwhelm her. It always did for the one who got left behind. And he couldn’t drag her along with him to LA. After all, he was going to be caught up focusing on his career, and it would be too expensive for her to come along. Besides, Cricket belonged in Montana. It was where her heart was. Until it wasn’t—hadn’t she hauled off to Paris in no time flat after he’d pulled out of Bristol?
He was trying to make sense of her response when he heard someone call his name as he was walking back to his car. He turned to see Darby hot on his heels, waving her hand at him.
“Darby?” He stopped to let her catch up.
She came to an abrupt halt in front of him, sweeping her hair out of her eyes as she caught her breath.
“Look, Fletcher.” She pointed back in the direction of the pâtisserie. “I’m not quite sure what went on back there, but I want to warn you off of Cricket. It took her a long time to finally get over you, and I will personally slice both of your gonads off and shish kebab them in front of everyone at the park in the center of town over an open firepit if you do anything to hurt her, break her heart, lead her on, or make her think that she somehow matters to you. Do I make myself abundantly clear?”
His eyes grew wide. “Well, shit, Darby. How do you really feel about me?”
“Frankly, Fletcher, I don’t feel particularly warm and fuzzy toward you. What you did—or at least how you did it—was completely shitty and as one who helped Cricket pick up the pieces after you left, I don’t ever want to see her go through something like that again. You had your shot at her, but she’s no longer yours and I don’t want you entertaining the notion that she might be, even for a couple of days. Got it?”
Fletcher tilted his head to the side. “You got me, Darbs. My plan was to come back and use and abuse Cricket s
ince she’s low-hanging fruit. Because, well, you know that’s so like me.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re like. I know we thought you played fair and square until you didn’t. So now I want to be clear that Cricket’s heart is not something to trifle with. As long as you honor that request, then you and me”—she pointed at him, then at herself—“will be fine.”
Fletcher reached out and put his hands on Darby’s shoulders. “You know what? Sometimes a young man has to figure his shit out. And sometimes when that man does that, he doesn’t even know what shit he has to figure out. And sometimes he thinks he’s being honorable when it turns out he’s being an asshole. And sometimes that man matures and never actually realizes the extent to which he was an asshole.” He wiped his brow with his wrist. “So yeah, maybe I mishandled things. Maybe I was unnecessarily hurtful to Cricket. But in all honesty, do you think I aimed to be as big a dick as possible to her? I mean come on, Darby. You knew me your whole life. Was I the one who drove you to the hospital every day for three weeks when your sister had that riding accident and was all plastered up like a zombie with her leg sticking up in the air and stuff?” He extended his arms and a leg as if he was in traction. “Do you honestly think I’m some evildoer back to exact revenge for Lord knows what?”
Darby placed her hands on her hips, scrunched up her nose, then shook her head. “Hell, Fletch. I don’t know what your deal is. I only know what I dealt with after you broke up with my best friend. And I don’t want that to happen again. So if your intentions are honorable, then fine. But Just. Don’t. Hurt. Her. And we’ll be good. Fair enough?”
He shook his head. Damn, who knew he was going to be grilled by the damned FBI about something he did when he was still practically a kid?
“Deal.” He reached out and the two shook hands. “Now go tell Boo Bear to remember her engagement ring at the reception tomorrow night.”
She cocked her eyebrow. “Boo Bear?”
He shook his head as he rolled his eyes. “Seriously. Don’t ask.”
FLETCHER SPENT THE next day preparing for Justine’s early afternoon arrival. He made sure the overpriced inn where she was booked had precisely four overflowing arrangements of fresh flowers in her room. He then ensured that she had an unlimited supply of alkaline water and that room service would provide a broad selection of paleo options because, well, Justine. You didn’t keep a body like that as thin as a mink pelt without a permanent diet plan.
He checked the setup for the ballroom at the old-fashioned movie palace where the film would be shown. He wanted to be certain the speakers were working fine with the mics. Justine was so exacting that if anything backfired there would be hell to pay and he’d be the one paying it.
He had a driver picking her up at the airport and knew she’d insist on a meditation hour upon arriving at the inn. He pretty much begged the innkeeper to make sure their dog didn’t bark and that no one rang the doorbell during that time. Following that, he’d lined up a personal Pilates instructor for her for an hour, so that took care of much of the time leading up to the reception, one of two that Cricket would be catering. His goal was to keep Cricket and Justine as far away from each other as possible. He had to get through tonight’s event, then the premiere on Friday and all would be good. All while trying hard not to think about Cricket’s hard nipples, which kept his dick on high alert each time he remembered it.
Jesus this was going to be a hard damned week to navigate without a massive implosion.
Chapter Eight
Cricket and Darby were putting the finishing touches on the food before transferring it to the Orion Theater, which was conveniently a few doors down from the shop.
“So I noticed you chased after Fletch yesterday after he left,” Cricket said as she shifted mini quiches to one of the boxes in which they’d haul everything over there. “Did I miss anything interesting?”
Darby licked a dab of icing off her hand as she finished icing some mini cupcakes. “I wanted to let him know that I was watching out for your welfare, that’s all.”
“Darb, you know I’m fine, right? You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I know I went through a tumultuous time of it, but look at me.” She spread her arms out. “I’ve got this amazing shop and I get to work at it with my best friend. Customers love the place. I have the best dog on the planet”—she gave a whistle to get Dingo to come—“and now I’m catering my ex-boyfriend’s perverted boss’s film premiere week, knowing full well that she will stop at nothing to get that man in bed with her. All while I have decided that I think I want to end up in bed with him.”
Darby’s eyes grew wide. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking.”
Cricket stopped what she was doing and looked at her friend. “D—I was thinking about this. I mean, it’s been a ridiculously long time since I’ve been with a man. That can’t be good for me, can it? Isn’t there some use-it-or-lose-it rule with erogenous zones?”
Darby laughed as she dusted some confectioner’s sugar off Cricket’s cheek. “You mean if you don’t have a partner-prompted orgasm every so many months, you’ll never have them again?”
“Make that every so many years.”
“Oh, come off it, Crick. You’ve been with other guys since Fletcher Campbell.”
She shrugged. “Well, yeah, early on there were a small number of revenge fucks along the way,” she said. “Shame was he never knew about them, so a lot of good that was. In any case, once the charm of taking revenge wore off, I never happened upon someone with whom I had that sort of sexual chemistry since Fletch.”
“But you wouldn’t seriously consider a fling with him now, right?” She knit her brows.
Cricket grinned. “Sometimes a girl’s gotta scratch an itch, you know? And what better itch to scratch? First off, I’m over him. So it would be purely sexual in nature. And it would be easy since there would be no fumbling and figuring each other out. We know each other that way. I’m sure it would be like getting back on a bike.”
“Yeah well, there would be the riding aspect.”
“Like I said, sounds perfect. Don’t you agree?”
Darby shook her head vigorously. “No! It sounds like the stupidest idea I’ve heard in a long time. It’s bad enough you two are pretending to be getting married. Like, what the actual fuck stupid? I still don’t get that whole thing and how that is going to happen. Far be it from me to worry about that. It’s your gig. But to complicate matters by having actual sex?”
“Maybe you should reframe this to see it better. We’ll pretend we’re having sex, so we might as well have sex. See what I mean?”
“Why are you so intent on getting laid all of a sudden?” Darby stacked a box of mini cupcakes on one of the café tables near the door. “We have so many hot-looking guys coming through this town all the time. They’re here to hike and bike and kayak and ski and snowboard. Why none of them?”
Cricket heaved a sigh. “Because he touched my hand.”
Darby’s brows ski-sloped into one another. “Come again?”
“Yesterday, when we were talking. And he pulled out that stupid ring, and he touched my hand as he put it on and it evoked so many things I’d forgotten about—emotions I’d blocked out, sure, but also memories of amazing times with him. And not regular old times, but I remembered that we fit so well together sexually. As I said, I’m over him. But the idea of that part of him, with me, that sounds like what the doctor ordered.”
“I didn’t know the doctor had diagnosed you with some problem that only Fletcher could solve.”
“Right now, what Fletcher could solve is this horniness that seems to have come out of freaking nowhere and thanks to that, I can barely rub my legs together without getting off.”
Her friend plugged her ears and started chanting la-la-la-la-la. “Need-to-know basis.”
“Well, you asked.”
“Nevertheless.” She jutted her chin out. “I want to protect you from him and from yourself. You
think you’re over him, but if I were a betting woman, I’d put money on you not being quite as over him as you think you are. I mean, let’s be real. Fletcher is a handsome man. He’s got a great body and a charming demeanor. He’s smart, funny, and kind. Well, except when he fucked you over the way he did. But pretty much on a pie chart, for the most part, he’d be like a big old chunk of bright blue.”
“Pie chart? Bright blue?” Cricket squinted at her trying to interpret that. “Whatever. At any rate, these are all arguments for me being safe for the time being. I’ll get it out of my system and all will be fine.”
Darby held up her hands. “Okay. I give up. You’re going to do what you’re going to do. But please, don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”
Cricket started to load boxes onto the wheeled cart they would use to move the food over to the theater. “I promise. I’m a big girl now. It’ll be fine.”
THE PARTY WAS IN FULL swing—everyone of note from Bristol had been invited to attend. Cricket could barely walk five feet without someone talking to her. She tried to keep her left hand down by her side to avoid questions from anyone who might see her faux engagement ring. She also tried to steer clear of Fletcher, who seemed glued to the side of Justine, appropriately dressed in a form-fitting animal print with spots on it. Cougar, thy name was clearly Justine. It was quite obvious that Justine was trying to stake her claim on Fletch, with her hands pawing at him—pressed to his chest, her palm at the base of his back, stroking down his arm, drawing her daggered claws along his jawline. She was a charmer, that one was.
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