Fool Me Once

by Williams, Nicole

  “We’ve got to go over something first,” he said, smirking at my efforts to budge his arm.

  “What?” I asked, annoyed.

  “We’re going to be a couple in the public’s eyes. Which means we’re going to have to do certain things that couples do.”

  I blinked at him. “Couples don’t do that in public. At least not the normal ones.”

  He gave a grunt of disbelief. “I’m not talking about sex.”

  “Then what are you talking about?” My voice was rising the more flustered I became. The lack of apparel, the warm water, the way Chase’s brown eyes seemed to melt when he looked at me a certain way . . . I was struggling to keep my composure.

  “Kissing.” He shrugged as though it were obvious. “We’ve had ten years to get rusty. We don’t want to look like a couple of fumbling amateurs when we kiss in public for the first time.”

  My mouth fell open a little as I tried to determine if he was serious. “Kissing is like riding a bike. We don’t need to practice to get it right.”

  The corners of Chase’s eyes creased. “It’s more like riding a unicycle. Once you figure it out, with enough consistency, no problem. But if you go a decade without climbing on that unicycle, you’re starting right back at square one.”

  I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “You’re comparing kissing to a unicycle. You’re just as romantic as I remember.”

  Chase treaded closer until my legs were brushing against his with each kick. “Come on. One kiss. Practice makes perfect.” His arms drew in, entombing me in his presence. One brow carved into his forehead. “That is, unless you’re scared to kiss me in private, half-naked in a swimming pool, because you still harbor some kind of feelings for me . . .”

  I shoved his chest as a snap reaction, realizing too late that I should not touch him when he was this close, when I was this conflicted. “Fame has really gone to your head.”

  His shoulders rose above the water before dipping below again. “So? Prove me wrong.”

  “Fine.” The word materialized on its own. “But if you even try slipping me tongue, my knee is winding up in your groin.”

  He wet his lips, fighting a smile. “When have I ever complained about any part of you nestling down there?”

  My hands balled at my sides as I attempted to approach this whole thing like a science experiment. Objectively. Neutrally. Emotionlessly. “Just kiss me and get it over with.”

  His smile quirked. “Once you’re finished whispering sweet nothings into my ear.”

  When I tried to push him away, his hands circled my wrists. Chase’s eyes found mine, the color of his irises nearly indistinguishable from his pupils. My chest moved quickly when he swam closer, his head angling as his lips aligned with mine.

  He hadn’t even kissed me and I’d lost all sense of direction. Up was as good as down in my present state. His breath fanned across my lips as he waited, perfectly at ease having me trapped in the corner of his pool, our mouths a sliver of air apart.

  His grip on my wrists relaxed right before his mouth finally connected with mine. My body froze the instant he kissed me, but it didn’t last long, seeming to melt one piece at a time.

  I didn’t realize I was sinking until Chase’s arm cinched around me, pulling my shoulders back above the water, his mouth not missing a beat. The last piece of me to unthaw was my lips, but the moment they did, they matched his urgency. My arms wound behind his neck as I drew closer, our bodies tangling beneath the water as he kissed me in a way I hadn’t been kissed in years; in the kind of way that made a girl feel delicate and invincible at the same time.

  Chase treaded water, holding us both above the surface, the planes of his chest rising to meet mine with our uneven breaths. Before I knew it, our tongues were tying together, though it wasn’t him who’d broken that rule first. His chest rumbled against mine as my mouth and hands grew more feverish, no longer under the constraint of my better judgment.

  Kissing Chase was exactly as I remembered, yet totally different. The scrape of his calloused fingers against my skin felt the same, yet there was a newfound strength to it. His full lips moved with mine in a dance we’d mastered years ago, but there was a resolve I’d never tasted so deeply before. The way he held me was exactly the same, though the contours of his body had changed.

  When my chest was hammering from breathlessness, Chase broke the kiss, managing to evade my ensuing advances. His eyes remained closed for a minute, droplets of water winding down his face from where my hands had been.

  When his eyes finally opened, the look in them made my head dizzy, even as I reminded myself this had been a practice kiss. Nothing more.

  “How was that?” he asked.

  I had to look away in order to make my answer seem convincing. My shoulder lifted out of the water as I shaped my most detached expression. “You were right. Like riding a unicycle.”

  “No, you were right.” Chase’s hand drifted up my back, his rough fingertips somehow soft against my skin. “Kissing you is like riding a bicycle.”

  4

  “You kissed him?” On the other end of the line, Jesse sounded like she’d swallowed an apple whole.

  “It was nothing. One tiny practice kiss before we’re expected to pucker up in front of a bunch of strangers.” I double-checked my suitcase to make sure I’d packed everything I’d need for the next six months on the road. But how did a girl prepare for something like that? Especially when the longest road trip I’d taken had been to Sante Fe for a three-day weekend. “It was the intimacy equivalent of high-fiving him.”

  “Except you did it with your lips.”

  My face heated, playing back the scene in my head. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Sure, it wasn’t. What are you going to tell me next? You two worked in a practice screw and it was like sharing a wink?”

  I held in the groan, chastising myself for experiencing a weak moment and dishing the truth to Jesse about Chase and me. She’d been sworn to secrecy though, and I’d only told her because she knew how to keep a secret. “How’s everyone?” I asked, eager to focus the attention elsewhere.

  “Everyone’s good. Stunned that you’re back together with that derelict, but don’t worry, I didn’t spill the behind-the-scenes story.”

  After zipping my suitcase, I made my bed. One of the maids had insisted that she was there to take care of those kinds of things, but my conscience wouldn’t allow another human to make the bed I’d slept in when I was more than capable.

  “I’m sorry you have to keep it a secret,” I said. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I had to tell one of you guys. And you were always the best one at keeping a secret.”

  “Except this secret is major, Em. Chase Lawson is paying you seven figures to be his pretend girlfriend. He is not the kind of guy who needs to pay girls for their company, if you know what I mean.”

  My grip tightened around the plush white comforter. The past few days since arriving, I’d witnessed a group of girls lined outside Chase’s gate, holding signs with offers ranging from flashing him for a chorus line to bearing his firstborn. Security had tackled one daring woman who’d scaled the gates and made it halfway up the front drive, and yet one more hardcore fan had shown up in her birthday suit and her guitar, singing a unique version of “Goodbye Tales,” one of Chase’s breakthrough hits.

  “You got the tickets I emailed you?” I asked.

  Jesse squeed. “Front row seats? Yeah, I got them and everyone says a ginormous thank you. Johnny actually suggested selling the tickets and using the money to remodeled the kitchen.”

  “You should do it. Sold-out front row tickets will sell for a primo price. Besides, you’ve both heard Chase sing and play a guitar plenty of times.”

  “Yeah, but never as one of the most popular musical artists at present.” She huffed. “The kitchen doesn’t need a remodel that bad.”

  A knock sounded outside my door, and there was no shortage of peopl
e who could have been on the other side. Between maids, chefs, assistants, and security guards, this place was a revolving door of bodies.

  “Hey, I gotta go,” I said.

  “Is Chase beckoning or calling?”

  “I told you. I’m not his beck-and-call girl.”

  “That’s right, you’re his pretend girlfriend he makes out with inside of swimming pools under the ploy of practice makes perfect.” The sarcasm was thick in her voice.

  “It’s good to have friends,” I muttered, heading for the door when knock number two came. This one not so gentle.

  “And it’s great to have friends who tell it like it is,” Jesse chimed. “Love you and goodbye ‘til next time.”

  “Love you too,” I said before hanging up.

  On the other side of the door was someone I’d tried avoiding at all costs. I’d see her coming down the same hall and I’d duck into whatever room or closet was nearest. I’d hear the unique crack of her heels and I’d go running the opposite direction.

  “Hey, Dani,” I greeted, smile and all.

  She held out a manila folder, all business. “You’re going to need some new clothes for the tour. There’s a list of what you’ll need, a catalogue of suggested stores, along with a credit card. If you have any questions, you can reach me on my cell.”

  She was already turning to leave when I cleared my throat. “I brought clothes. Why do I need to go buy new ones?”

  Dani’s stare as she inspected my outfit for today needed no interpretation. “You’ll need formal attire. Items you can wear out in public. There’ll be cameras coming from every direction, fifty deep, when you’re at Chase’s side. We wouldn’t want to shatter any of them with your Country Barbie wardrobe.”

  My mouth fell open as I floundered to produce a comeback worthy of Country Barbie, but I had to give credit where credit was due. Dani had mastered the talent of insults.

  “Would you like to have a driver take you or would you prefer to drive yourself?” she asked, her finger ready to punch a number into her phone.

  “I’ll drive myself,” I said, shaking the folder. “Tell me there’s an address for a Country Barbie Fantasy store in here.”

  “Bergdorf Goodman is as country as it gets.” Her eyes did that quick, yet thorough inspection again. “Good luck.”

  After making a face at her retreating figure, I retrieved my phone and purse so I could get going. Navigating Nashville would be a challenge for a small-town girl from a place where there were no such things as merging lanes or roundabouts, not to mention navigating through a store solely dedicated to clothing instead of the one-stop-shop varieties like back home.

  When I made it to the garage—which was nicer than plenty of people’s living spaces—I found a long peg of hooks holding a dozen different keys. I wasn’t familiar with some of the makes—I wasn’t sure if I could even pronounce them correctly—so I went with one I was familiar with.

  The big Chevy was the nicest truck I’d ever seen and definitely not intended for farm use. It smelled like Chase—that heady combination of his aftershave and cologne—and it made me wonder if this was the vehicle he used more than the others.

  I might have been used to trucks, but once I was driving down the streets of Nashville, I wished I’d gone with the smallest possible option. Between all of the cars and people, weaving up and down streets without hitting anything was more challenging than it should have been.

  By the time I made it to the shopping area Dani had highlighted in the folder, my knuckles were white and my nerves frazzled. After squeezing into a parking spot, I flipped through the rest of the information in the folder. There was a glossy black credit card paper-clipped to a check-off list of items for me to pick up. It wasn’t a short list.

  Eight cocktail dresses, five formal gowns, twenty work-casual outfits, shoes to match every outfit . . . then there were accessories and specific underwear based upon the outfit’s design. I was bushed and I hadn’t stepped foot inside a store.

  Giving myself a pep talk, I leapt out of the truck with the goal of setting some shopping speed records today.

  Eight hours, two stops at the specialty cupcake shop, and three headaches later, I’d done it. Not sure it was any kind of record based on the professional shoppers who seemed to know exactly what they wanted and didn’t need to check the tag for the size or price, but I’d exceeded my own expectations by simply checking everything off of the list. And surviving.

  It was dark by the time I maneuvered the truck back into its designated spot in the garage. Thankfully, one of the house supervisors was there to greet me and help wrangle all of my bags up to my room. Once everything was spread out on my bed—all of the bags took up the whole thing and even some of the space on the floor—I realized I had nothing to pack it into for our departure tomorrow.

  “Suitcases,” I muttered, finding a small scrap of pleasure that Dani wasn’t as perfectly organized as one thought.

  I guessed there had to be some spare luggage somewhere inside this labyrinth of rooms and closets, so I went on the hunt. When I popped inside a large room at the end of one of the halls, I startled. Not from the surprise of seeing him, but the shock of watching what he was doing and how he looked doing it.

  “Hey. Sorry to interrupt,” I said when his trainer noticed me hovering in the doorway.

  Chase finished his rep then racked the bar loaded with some seriously heavy-looking plates. “Interrupt anytime.”

  He took the towel Theresa was holding for him and wiped his face before moving on to his shoulders and arms. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the one article of clothing he did have on looked as if it was about to fall down if it inched any lower down his hips. Shiny, sweaty, and smiling.

  My throat burned from the sight of him.

  “Did you need something?” He gave me a funny look. Probably because I was gawking at him like he was an ice-cold beverage and I’d crossed the Sahara on foot.

  “Suitcase,” I said, sounding like an idiot. Licking my lips, I tried again. Diverting my eyes helped so I could speak in more than one-word sentences. “I was looking for a couple of extra suitcases. Do you know where any might be?”

  Chase grabbed the water bottle resting on the bench beside him, throwing the towel over one shoulder. “I’ve got a few spares in my room.” He squirted some water into his mouth. “Theresa, you kicked my ass enough for one day?”

  “I don’t know. You’re still standing,” she teased before waving him off. “I suppose you can sneak out early. I’ll just tailor your next workout so you leave in tears.”

  “So pretty much every workout except for tonight’s?” Chase’s pace picked up, and he waved at me to get out so we could make an escape.

  Theresa said good night to us both, then she lunged onto a tall bar and whipped out pull-ups like she was GI Jane.

  “Good timing,” he said after joining me in the hall. “It’s like you could hear my muscles weeping in pain.”

  I stepped aside, giving myself a margin of space from him. Like this, to me, he was pretty much country-girl catnip.

  “So? Did you kale and cardio your way into your skinny jeans?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound as flustered as I felt.

  He pointed at his abs as if they said it all. In fairness, they did say a hell of a lot. “Nailed it.”

  “Nice work.” I grimaced at my response. Nice work?

  “So how was the shopping? Sounded like Dani gave you one hell of a list. I probably should have warned you.” He nudged me with his bare, sweaty, muscled arm. “I know how much you hate shopping.”

  “It was fine. I made it without sustaining too much long-term emotional trauma.” He slowed when we turned down the next hall. “I didn’t really think about all of the stuff we’d be doing while you’re on tour. If I had, I would have realized four pairs of jeans and a black pencil skirt wasn’t going to cut it.”

  His shoulder lifted. “It wouldn’t matter. When people look at you, they aren’t paying
attention to your clothes.”

  “I think that’s a compliment, so thanks?” I said when we stopped outside a door.

  “All I mean is that you’re beautiful no matter what you wear. Holey jeans or formal gown.” He motioned at me as though I was proving his point in my makeshift pajamas consisting of a shirt so worn it was porous, and a pair of shorts that had at one time been sweatpants.

  “I’ll just wait here,” I said when he opened the door and stepped inside his room.

  “You can come inside, you know? It’s not like you’re going to explode into a pillar of fire if you step foot inside the bedroom of a man you aren’t married to. Contrary to what that old Methodist church tried convincing everyone of.”

  “If that was the measure for spontaneous combustion, I would have been ashes years ago.” Showing him I wasn’t scared, I walked a step inside his room.

  “A whole foot inside. You heathen.” He clucked his tongue as he loped toward what looked to be a closet.

  His room was massive—less of a bedroom and more of a mini house. His bed was tucked into the far end of the room, but chairs and a sofa were settled around the rest. A mini fridge and microwave were built into a granite counter. From the looks of it, Chase could survive in his room for days if he needed to.

  I was finishing my inspection when I saw it. His old guitar. His first one. The guitar I’d surprised him with on his fifteenth birthday after stowing away money from babysitting and odd farm jobs for weeks.

  “You still have it,” I said when I realized he’d returned from the closet and was watching me.

  “Of course.” His expression relaxed when his eyes fell on the guitar. “It’s the best damn guitar I’ve ever had. Doesn’t matter how many new ones I’ve gotten or how much they’ve cost, nothing can measure up to my first.” When his eyes traced the line between the guitar and me, there was something unrecognizable in them. He held up a couple of large suitcases. “Will these work?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “Except whose initials are those?”