The Dating Arrangement

by Kerri Carpenter

  Emerson fought the urge to fidget. “Again, thank you. You’ve made me feel a lot better. You must be a really amazing bartender.”

  Jack’s face fell. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself a bartender.”

  She took in the various taps of beer, bottles of liquor stacked neatly on the far wall and rows of pristine glassware. “No?”

  “I mean, I own this bar. Now. Recently, that is. My father passed away and left it to me.”

  The emotions on her new friend’s face tugged at her heart. “I’m so sorry. About your father, I mean.” She could only imagine if something happened to her mother and she had to take over the bridal shop.

  Cosmo made his way to Emerson’s chair. Then he let out a sound that sounded very close to a sigh. She picked him up again and placed him on her lap. He snuggled closer to Emerson.

  “Poor thing.” Emerson rubbed her hands up and down the dog’s back, enjoying his soft fur. “I bet you miss your dad, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  She’d asked the question of the dog, but Jack answered. His word came out so softly, she wondered if he knew he’d said it. By the distant look on his face, she imagined not. She let it go.

  “As you can see for yourself, The Wright Drink doesn’t exactly have the right appeal.”

  Emerson took a moment to glance around the space. It needed some light—natural light, preferably. And one hell of a cleaning crew would do wonders. But all in all, she found it charming. Like an old English pub.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Seems like it just needs some tender loving care. A fresh coat of paint wouldn’t hurt either.”

  “But would new paint bring customers in?”

  She wasn’t sure if he was really asking her, but she decided to answer anyway. “Probably not. But if you zhuzhed up the inside, spent some time on a social media campaign and planned a couple of enticing events, you could turn things around. I’m an event planner and I’ve done plenty of grand openings for bars and restaurants, not to mention specialized events like themed nights, New Year’s Eve parties, birthday parties, you name it. You’d be surprised what attracts people.”

  The air hung heavily between them. They locked eyes and it took everything in her power not to squirm from the intensity pouring out of those serious eyes.

  She could feel the heat returning to her face and decided to lighten things up. “I mean, there are several ways to get customers interested in a business. I just organized the food truck festival last weekend and I know there—”

  “You put that together?” He whistled long and low. “That was amazing. I heard there were two dozen trucks and they maxed out on ticket sales.”

  She nodded. “The city wanted to focus on local businesses. Every food truck was owned by an Alexandria resident. To be honest, the publicity budget wasn’t very large. But word of mouth is a powerful tool. People were excited to support the trucks.”

  “I got food from at least five or six places,” Jack said. “There was such great diversity.”

  “Fifteen different ethnicities represented,” she said proudly. She’d worked extra hard to make sure a variety of diverse foods and cultures were included when she’d begun organizing the festival.

  “Sadly, it almost didn’t happen. The organizers had wanted to do it for years, but the city kept pushing back. Said it wouldn’t bring any interest. There were a lot of things we did to make sure we would pack the festival.” She gestured around the bar. “Wouldn’t be hard to do the same kind of thing here.”

  He seemed interested. “Really?”

  “Off the top of my head, I would suggest a grand opening. Or a reopening, as the situation would warrant. There are several events you could begin hosting that would help garner interest.”

  “Like bachelorette parties?” A pained expression crossed his face.

  Emerson laughed. “I was thinking more like a weekly trivia night, regular happy-hour specials and maybe even a ladies’ night.” She didn’t even go into the social media opportunities. “You have a lot to work with here.”

  Jack followed her gaze. “How do you know about all of this?”

  “It’s part of my job.”

  Jack leaned back suddenly. “Looks like we both have a problem to solve.”

  “Trust me, it would be a lot easier to get people into this bar than it would be to get my mother off my back.”

  Jack rubbed a hand along his jaw. She noticed some dark stubble and could hear a scratching noise as his fingers moved over it. Was it wrong that her mouth watered at the sight?

  “How about...” he trailed off.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing—it’s a crazy idea.”

  “Come on. We’ve already bonded over my frazzled nerves and your outdated bar.”

  “Okay then. Why don’t I be your boyfriend?”

  Yes, please. She coughed. “Excuse me? Why would you pretend to be my boyfriend? I mean, why would anyone do something like that? You don’t even know me.”

  “Because,” Jack said patiently, “I need your help too.” He gestured to the bar around him. “I don’t know if I’m going to keep this place and find someone to manage it for me, or sell it. But no matter what I do, I have to turn it around. And you’d be the perfect person to help me make that happen.”

  Emerson mulled over his proposal. “So you help me with my family. I help you with the bar.”

  “You got it.”

  “You’re going to pretend to be my boyfriend?” She couldn’t believe she was entertaining this at all. It was nuts. “That’s a lot to ask of you.”

  “It’s me being your boyfriend for one night at your parents’ party. Believe me, from the looks of it, turning this place around will be the harder part.”

  She chewed on her lip. “O-okay. So we’re going to be a pretend couple. And we’ll fix up your bar.”

  “And no one gets hurt,” he finished.

  As she considered, a smile began spreading over his handsome face. If it weren’t for that damn smile...

  “What do you say? Do you want to make a deal?” He held out his hand and Cosmo let out a little yip.

  She rose, and the wedding dress billowed around her. Then she clasped his offered hand. “I do.”

  Chapter Three

  The last time Emerson had an imaginary boyfriend, she’d been in middle school. Her twelve-year-old sister had announced at Sunday dinner that she was “going with” Jeremy Swanson. So Emerson did what any self-respecting fourteen-year-old would do. She’d invented a boyfriend of her own, claiming he went to a different school and was constantly busy with sports.

  That act hadn’t lasted long. She’d never been any good at lying, which didn’t bode well for what she was about to do with Jack.

  He squeezed her hand. “Want me to go in with you?” he asked as they stood outside of her mother’s bridal boutique, staring at the black-and-white-striped awning with Dewitt’s Bridal scrawled across it in a fancy pink script. On his leash, Cosmo stood obediently next to Jack.

  Emerson shook her head. “Thank you, but I think it will be better if we wait as long as possible to bring you into the fold.” Easier on her, as well. “I’ll spring you on them when we get closer to the anniversary party. Plus that will give us time to start work on turning the bar around.”

  Jack gave her a long once-over, with his face emanating doubt. It looked like he was about to ask a question. But he must have decided against it. “You’re the boss,” he said simply instead. “Why don’t you come over tonight? I can fill you in on the situation with the bar and we can start planning.”

  “I’ll be there. Just text me the address.” She paused. “You’re not a serial killer or anything, are you?”

  He held his hand up in a salute. “Law-abiding citizen, I promise. But if it makes you feel better, we can mee
t at the bar.”

  She was probably being silly or overly cautious. She hoped her new pretend boyfriend wasn’t a psychopath, but you just never knew these days. “The bar sounds great.”

  “Done. We can continue to get to know each other better tonight. If we’re going to make this work, we’ll need details.”

  Emerson cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

  “If we’re dating, we need to know essentials. Favorite color, movie, band, food, hobbies. I don’t even know your middle name. Or if you have one.”

  Emerson couldn’t believe she was doing this. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Pretending to be dating Jack was a tiny white lie; it wouldn’t hurt anyone.

  He was really great to suggest this ruse. When was the last time she’d met a decent guy like him? Definitely not any of the men her mother had tried to fix her up with. Certainly not Thad, her ex-fiancé. Thad had barely ever asked how her day had been, so he would never have stepped in to do something as gallant as this.

  She eyed Jack now. Damn, he was handsome. No, she thought. Handsome wasn’t the right word. More like...attractive and kind. She only hoped she wasn’t taking advantage of him.

  She might not know him well yet, but she could tell he wasn’t the type to offer something when he didn’t want to do it. Besides, it wasn’t like Jack was the only one getting something out of this bargain. She was happy to help Jack with his bar. And she would see to it that the place became a success.

  “Emerson? You okay?”

  “Yes.” His question pulled her out of her thoughts. “Sorry. I’ll be there tonight and tell you absolutely everything there is to know about me.”

  Apparently satisfied, Jack nodded. “Okay. Good luck.”

  Emerson crouched down to say goodbye to Cosmo, and then she rose and took a step toward the shop, anxious to get out of the overbearing wedding gown. She couldn’t imagine wearing something like this for her special day.

  Before she reached for the door, she turned back, looking over her shoulder. Jack hadn’t moved. He was standing on the sidewalk, watching her. He was making sure she really was okay.

  “Rose,” she said spontaneously.

  Jack tilted his head in question.

  “My middle name is Rose.”

  He grinned and her knees felt weak. “See you tonight, Emerson Rose Dewitt. And for the record, I think you make a really beautiful bride.”

  Their eyes met and she had to work hard to hold back a shiver. Finally, Jack broke the gaze and retreated down the street, with Cosmo trotting alongside him. Emerson placed a hand on her stomach, willing the fluttering to subside.

  When she pushed through the front door and entered the shop, she still didn’t feel calm. All she could think about was Jack. But a few seconds later, the sound of her mother’s voice broke the spell.

  “Emerson, finally.” Her mother let out a long, exasperated gasp. “Where in the world have you been?” She rushed toward Emerson, wearing a tailored mauve pantsuit; her makeup was absolutely flawless, and every strand of hair was perfectly in place.

  “I—I—I mean...”

  She struggled to finish the sentence as her younger sister made a mad dash across the store. Amelia’s eyes were wide and she was subtly shaking her head. “Hey, Em,” she said brightly as she pushed something covertly into her hand. Emerson realized it was her cell phone. “See, Mama, I told you she was just taking a call outside.”

  Grateful, Emerson let out the breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding. “Right. Sorry. Business call. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  Her mother’s narrowed gaze was almost enough to make her drop the phone and start spilling all of the details of her little alleyway adventure.

  “Of course I was worried, Emerson. You’re wearing a ten-thousand-dollar dress. What in the hell were you thinking stepping outside in it?”

  Or flinging herself out a window. But she decided not to mention that.

  “You could have gotten the hemline dirty.” Beatrice Dewitt’s eagle eye was already examining the dress.

  “Looks fine to me,” Amelia said.

  Emerson took her sister in. She was wearing an elegant lace gown with cap sleeves that was straight and fitted to her flawless body. Just as she’d told Jack earlier, the two of them had the same auburn hair as their mother. But while Emerson did her best to tame her curly, shoulder-length hair, Amelia’s trendy layers always seemed to float carelessly, as if someone were following her around with a wind machine.

  Amelia was two years younger than Emerson, but she’d surpassed her in height before the age of ten and never looked back. Emerson topped off at a whopping five foot three on a good day, while Amelia was a stately five-nine, without heels.

  Emerson had needed braces, while Amelia’s teeth had been straight. During middle school, Emerson had become quite familiar with the dermatologist, while Amelia never so much as got a sweat pimple.

  Amelia had twenty-twenty vision. Emerson needed glasses and contacts.

  Amelia could wear anything off the rack. Emerson paid a good portion of her salary to her tailor.

  Amelia had found her Prince Charming and gotten married. Emerson...

  Shouldn’t it have been the other way around? Didn’t the law of archetypes suggest that she was supposed to be the overachiever and her younger sister was destined to be the rebel?

  Emerson clutched the cell phone in her hand. The reminder that, despite all of their differences, her sister did have her back. At least that was something. And something that was a constant source of guilt.

  It would be so easy to be jealous of her sister, but Amelia—her little Mia—made that next to impossible. For every success Amelia achieved, Emerson seemed to fail at something. Yet, ever since she was born, Amelia looked to her big sister with awe in her eyes, as if Emerson were the one realizing great triumphs.

  And here she was, silently bitching about her curly hair and lack of height.

  She mouthed thanks to her sister and faced their mother. “I’m sorry, Mama. Really. I just needed to take a call.”

  “From?” her mother asked, after her cursory examination of the wedding dress was complete.

  Her palms began to sweat. “Um, just a client.”

  “Which client?” Her mother put her hands on her hips.

  “Well, a new client, as a matter of fact.”

  “A new client. Way to go, Em,” Amelia added. “Your event-planning business is really growing. I knew organizing that food truck festival was going to put you on the map.”

  She gave another grateful smile to her sister, even if Amelia didn’t understand she was lying.

  “Food trucks!” Her mother shook her head as her eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “Honestly, who enjoys eating from a dirty truck in the middle of the street?”

  “Um, everyone?” Amelia said, with a hint of sarcasm. Emerson stifled a laugh. “Did you see how many people attended the festival? It was epic.”

  “Thanks, Mia,” Emerson said gratefully.

  “So, who is this new client?” her mother asked impatiently. Clearly they were done discussing food trucks.

  “Um, well...” She almost wiped her hands on the dress until she luckily remembered that sweat stains on a ten-thousand-dollar dress probably wouldn’t help her mother sell it.

  “Well, what?” her mother said. “Honestly, Emerson, I can’t believe you are twenty-eight years old and still stuttering.”

  I don’t stutter. Emerson jutted her chin out. She’d been accused of stuttering since she was a little girl, when in reality she sometimes needed a second.

  “My new client is a bar. They want to reinvigorate the place. The Wright Drink, over on King Street,” she supplied. If she presented Jack as a client, it wouldn’t seem so random when she introduced him to the family as her boyfriend, at the anniversa
ry party.

  “Don’t we share the alley with that bar?” her mother asked.

  Emerson blinked. “The alley? Um, I don’t know. Why would I know that?”

  “Are you okay?” Amelia asked, with true concern in her eyes.

  Emerson’s mouth was dry, her heart was beating a mile a minute and she was beginning to feel that same overwhelming feeling that caused her to launch herself out of a window earlier. She didn’t know if it was because she was still wearing the dreaded wedding dress or because she hated lying to anyone, let alone her family.

  “Yep, great. I’d like to get out of this getup though.”

  “Let me at least get a look at you two first,” her mother said as her keen eye raked over her daughters, no doubt taking in every detail.

  Emerson and her sister stood side by side as their mother did a circle. She stopped to dust something off the back of Emerson’s dress, and Emerson prayed that she didn’t notice the wrinkles from her fall, or any smudges she might’ve missed. If Jack hadn’t been there with his club soda, not to mention being there to catch her in the first place...

  She closed her eyes and remembered the feel of his strong arms around her. And the way he smiled at her from behind the bar.

  I think you make a really beautiful bride.

  “What’s that smile about?” Amelia asked.

  Emerson snapped to attention. “Uhhh...”

  “Emerson, you’re all flushed.” Beatrice did that universal mother move of pressing her hand to the forehead. “Are you coming down with something?”

  “No, just warm in this monstrosity of a dress,” she covered. Emerson really hoped she didn’t reek of beer or any of the gross alley smells. She took a step back just in case.

  “That monstrosity of a dress is going to be a bestseller. I know it.” She took another moment to collect her thoughts. “Just as I thought. Amelia, that dress is prefect for a body shape like yours. Plus it comes in white, ivory, and blush. Customers will like that. I wish I could use you in the ad campaign. Everyone would want to wear this.”