Reality of Love Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Marika Ray

  Silence greeted me as I entered the condo owned by my buddy from college. He was letting me couch surf while I got on my feet. That whole sentence was a lie. He was letting me stay in one of his well-appointed bedrooms—no couch in sight—while I ambled aimlessly through life with no solid plan for getting on my feet or even going anywhere once I was on said feet. Luckily, Jayden was a good friend and he was also doing well for himself.

  We’d met freshman year of college, and while I’d had to take a light load of classes and live at home, thus extending my college career into seven years for a damn degree, while he stayed in the dorms and finished college in four years like normal people. We’d remained tight. He owned his own company and the last year had been good for him. Like crazy good.

  Our arrangement worked well for now. I bartended a few shifts a week and watched the homestead in return for free room and board, while he ran his growing empire from the office. We rarely saw each other, but I’d seen his new Mercedes downstairs. Kind of hard to miss that thing with the smell of money burning in the form of custom wheels and the window tint even your mama couldn’t see through.

  A door slammed down the hallway. I stood in the living room and stared, motionless, like sudden movement might cause an explosion. A woman, adjusting her dress and swiping at her crazy sex hair, came sauntering through the house and out the front door without so much as a hand wave or a head nod.

  Well, holy shit. Jayden got himself laid.

  I snickered, suddenly elated I had new material. I could work with this for weeks of harassment. Who knew Mister Workaholic could unclench that asshole of his long enough to have a good time with an actual breathing female? Not that his asshole had anything to do with the good times, but hey, no shame in a little butt kink. I’d have to ask him if that was his thing.

  Taking a seat on the couch, I decided to wait him out. I had nothing better to do until I heard back from Gabby about our contract, so why not get comfortable and grill my buddy over his lost virginity. No, the dude wasn’t actually a virgin, but he’d been celibate for so long I was starting to wonder if what I thought was reluctance was actually a personal problem with the tubing he didn’t feel comfortable talking about.

  To pass the time—the guy had to come out to get food or water at some point—I Googled some things and screenshot what I was looking for. After cropping the picture, I sent it off to Gabby with a little note. She didn’t hit me back right away, but that was to be expected. She didn’t know if I was to be trusted yet. My game plan while I waited was to be exactly who she needed so she couldn’t live without me. At least for the next three months of filming.

  “Do you even have a job, or do you just live to be a pain in my ass?”

  I looked up to see Jayden buttoning the cuffs on his dress shirt, his hair perfectly combed and gelled, like he hadn’t just done the frisky with a certain lady he probably didn’t want to talk about.

  “Funny you should bring up asses…” I responded with a sly smile.

  He looked at me funny and then shook his head. “I don’t even want to know. I gotta get back to work. I should have a delivery tomorrow if you could sign for it.”

  “No worries, man. Although I may have secured a new job that would have me moving out for three months.”

  Jayden whipped back in my direction, his hand on the doorknob of the front door. “Oh, yeah? Damn, that’s awesome, man. Will you tell me more about it tomorrow? I should be home early. Ish.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I know what ‘early’ means to you. I should still be here. If not, I’ll call you.”

  Jayden walked out and I got busy wooing my potential fake girlfriend. I found an article on one hundred questions to get to know your partner. I texted her the link and another message.

  Rhett: I think we should start going over these questions while we wait for your background check to come in. We don’t have much time. I’ll go first. What’s your biggest pet peeve?

  To my surprise and elation, Gabby started texting back.

  Gabby: Thank you for the information you sent. I didn’t realize that the extent of development of the third nipple would be the determining factor on if it had sensation. I feel so much better knowing that now. As for the questions, I think we should wait until we know you’re the man for the job.

  Rhett: I already know I’m the man for the job, so we might as well just get going on the getting to know each other part. Besides, what’s the harm in starting now? If you don’t like my background check, you move on. No harm, no foul.

  She didn’t text me back for twenty long minutes where I made myself a sandwich, ate it, and then paced the condo, waiting for a reply that I wasn’t sure would even come. My phone finally dinged as I contemplated Oreos with milk. One was never too old for a little Oreo snack.

  Gabby: Judgy bitches dissing my boy bands and bubblegum pop music.

  I nearly dropped the phone from laughing so hard. That was her biggest pet peeve? I never in a million years would have expected that answer from prim and proper Gabby Cole. My face felt like it might split from smiling so hard. An idea hit me and I had to run with it. I went to my room and pawed through my drawers until I found the exact T-shirt I was looking for. Pulling off my old one and putting on the new one, I posed for a selfie with a big cheesy grin.

  I sent her the picture, which highlighted one of my favorite shirts. It said “I Want It That Way.” Then in smaller letters below: “You just sang that line in your head, didn’t you?”

  Gabby: Oh my god! You have a Backstreet Boys T-shirt.

  Rhett: See? Told you I’m the man for the job.

  We spent the rest of the evening pinging each other back and forth with random questions and giving answers. By the time I went to bed, I wanted the job, less for the money or to understand who she was, but because I plain ol’ liked Gabby Cole.

  The next day I slept in, having paused my constant trolling online to find a job. I’d applied for so many jobs in the last six months I was starting to wonder if I had a virus on my computer that warned all these companies not to hire a jokester like me. I either didn’t hear back at all from the really great jobs or was told I was too qualified for the position if it was a shittier job. If Jayden decided to start charging me rent, I would have been screwed. Bartending part-time gave me enough money to get by, but rental costs in LA had gotten insane.

  Thankfully, I had a good feeling about Gabby. I just knew the job was mine. After all our texts yesterday and the potentials I saw at that coffee shop, I couldn’t imagine her choosing someone else.

  With positivity in the forefront of my brain, I began to pack up my room. All my T-shirts and shorts went into a small suitcase. Toiletries went into my dopp kit and then it was just my surfboard gear.

  I’d started making my own surfboards in high school after I discovered I loved surfing, but the good boards were expensive. So, I improvised and made my own. The first few were horrifically bad, but I got better and better. I even sold a few to friends for just above cost when I needed to make some money. Now, it was a huge mess of foam, strips of thin plywood, tubs of resin, and tools.

  My phone dinged from the kitchen where I’d left it. I set down the blanks I’d started but hadn’t finished. A text from Gabby waited for me.

  Gabby: Background check said you’re not a criminal. Sending over signed contract now. When can you start?

  “Yes!” I fist pumped the air and danced around the kitchen before responding.

  Rhett: Just gotta load up my car and then I can be over anytime. You tell me when, honey. Babe? Snookums? Wait, what am I going to call you?

  Gabby: I’m working from home today so anytime is fine. Definitely not Snookums.

  Rhett: I’ll head out in about thirty minutes. Text me your address? I really think we need obnoxious pet names for each other. All the obnoxiously rich have them.

  She sent her home address, but made no mention of the pet names. Maybe I shouldn’t have included that dig at rich people be
cause if she was invited on the show, she had to be one of them. I pulled up her address on the map app on my phone, seeing she was delightfully close to the ocean. I hadn’t planned on taking my board shaping stuff, but that location was entirely too tempting to leave them here.

  I hauled all my stuff downstairs and into the back of my beat-up 1985 Toyota Land Cruiser and hit the road. I felt a little like the Clampetts moving to Beverly Hills, loaded down with their pile of junk in the old clunker. Only I hadn’t struck it rich like those lucky bastards.

  “What the hell did I get myself into?” I muttered as the engine cranked over with a press of the gas pedal and a little give on the choke. I’d only be pretending to be rich before I returned to couch surfing and hoping for a real job.

  5

  Gabby

  A gunshot reverberated down the sleepy beach street, pulling me from my computer screen where I was typing out my latest article for the newspaper. I jumped up and ran to the front door, pausing to grab my phone and jam my feet into flip-flops. I peered through the windows bracketing my front door, finger poised and ready to call the police if I saw anything fishy. Gunshots in the middle of the day, or any time of day, were not normal in this section of Manhattan Beach. A verbal argument over a parking space, yes. Guns, no.

  Instead of an armed man running through the street, I saw a giant redish-orange rust bucket pull up in front of my house. The gunshot fired again and I jumped. I realized with dawning horror it was actually the car backfiring. Normal reaction should have been relief that an armed robber wasn’t on a killing spree near my house. Instead, I was mortified to see Rhett, with his gorgeous bright hair, climbing out of the contraption. In a daze, I couldn’t quite comprehend the truth.

  That virtual stranger, with that car, was moving into my house and pretending to be my boyfriend for the next three months.

  It wasn’t too late to call the whole thing off. I gnawed on my thumbnail, knowing I had to make a decision in the next thirty seconds. Once he moved his stuff in, it was a done deal. I mean, I still had seventeen days to find a suitable fake boyfriend. Maybe I’d been a little hasty in picking Rhett.

  Still peering out the window, I saw Rhett grab a small suitcase out of the back and then turn toward the house. His bright yellow T-shirt had a picture of Fabio with the words Fear The Hair.

  I guffawed, trying to muffle it with my hand. The guy had weird taste in clothing, that was for sure. But the shirt did bring to mind the real life Fabio wannabe I’d met just yesterday. My options were grim and grimmer. I didn’t really have much of a choice. Rhett or one of the other disasters who showed up yesterday. It was an easy decision.

  I swung open the front door. “Hey, Rhett. Welcome to my home.”

  He trotted up the stairs to land on my porch, the bag in his hand looking light as a feather. His muscles seemed bigger than yesterday, testing the limits of his crazy T-shirt. He was smiling like he never stopped. Like the world was one big funny carnival ride from which he gleaned all the entertainment he could ever want or need.

  Stepping back, I let him come through the doorway, closing the door behind him. The ensuing silence was deafening. Just two strangers in a house, pretending to be madly in love. Not awkward at all.

  I gestured to his bag while he twirled in a circle, taking in my modern beach house. “Did you bring more stuff or is that it?”

  He glanced over at me and then down at his bag, like he forgot he was holding it. “Oh, just this and my board shaping gear, but that can wait.”

  “Board shaping gear?” I was on high alert for crazy roommate red flags. Axes, chainsaws, rope, excessive figurine collections, stuffed animals, dolls, or juicing machines were automatic get-the-hell-out items. When I couldn’t sleep the night before I’d put together my list and I was sticking to it.

  Rhett set his bag down on the tile foyer area. “Yeah, I make surf boards and stand up paddleboards. Thought with living this close to the beach, maybe it would be a good time to get my board shaping business up and running.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Huh. Just make sure it doesn’t interfere with being on the show.”

  His grin grew bigger and I could practically feel his excitement. “I thought about it on the way over here. Every lazy househusband has a hobby or a special cause that he spends his time on, right? This would be mine. I’ll be the eccentric rich guy who wants to be a board shaper because he thinks surfers are cool.”

  I shrugged. He had a point and board shaping was a hell of a lot better than many other hobbies. Like fire breathing or baton twirling or basket weaving with your toes. Ew—feet—gross. “Works for me. I have a potting shed in the back that I never use. Perhaps you can set up your stuff there.”

  He rubbed his hands together. “Awesome. So, you going to give me the grand tour of my new house?”

  My clothes felt like sandpaper, chafing against my skin and ramping up my irritation. I couldn’t have regrets about this since I was already committed. And yet I did. Sharing my personal space was difficult. This little beach house was my private area. No one besides my best friend, Lily-Marie, had been here. After Hewitt and I broke up, I’d renovated the place and moved in, testing the limits on becoming a hermit. I’d always owned the house, but had renters using it since my father died and his whole estate went to me. I guess I just needed new surroundings to get my footing after the shit show that was Hew.

  “Gabby?”

  Rhett was looking at me with the silliest face, half smile and half confusion, his eyebrows not in agreement with which emotion to go with. Guess I’d spaced out there. On the bright side, that was happening less and less, the more room I got between me and that loser ex of mine.

  “Yes. Sorry. Let’s take you through the place so you know where everything is.” I walked past him and into the front living room. “As you can see, this area doesn’t get much use, but feel free.” The television was huge, taking up one whole wall, with tall fake palms on either side. A couple framed photos of my parents and me were on the console under the television. Leather couches took up most of the space, along with a white, shag rug.

  “We need to get pictures of us around here.” Rhett’s head was swiveling, taking in the place. It felt weird to see my home through his eyes. This was the first place of mine that I’d decorated with only my own input. No significant other or roommates or parents who chose what went where. It was all me.

  That was a good idea Rhett had. I lifted a finger and hustled to my kitchen to grab a notebook and pen. When I came back to the front living room, he was inspecting my photos up close. “I’ll start a list so we know what we need to do to make this whole relationship look believable.”

  He straightened up and moved into the formal dining area, a small room that had huge windows to the backyard. I had yet to use the room, but I had a nice table and chairs ready to go in case of a rapidly forming dinner party.

  I trailed behind him, suddenly the one being taken on a tour, not the other way around. He looped into the kitchen and let out a soft whistle as he took in the state of the art appliances, marble counters, and steel and glass lighting fixtures.

  “I like food,” I said sheepishly.

  Rhett spun around and gifted me with a grin, his eyes twinkling. “Did you even see my shirt yesterday? I love food too.”

  I returned the smile and gestured to the teal eight-burner gas stove. “I’ll show you how to use this later. She’s a bit finicky, but once you get the hang of her, she’ll knock your socks off.” She’d better. She cost me eight thousand dollars and that wasn’t even the high-end of that appliance line.

  “Add that to the list,” Rhett mumbled, opening drawers and peeking inside, making me feel highly uncomfortable with that level of scrutiny.

  I told myself to calm down, forcing deep breaths to slow my heart rate. I could do this. I just needed to keep my eye on the long-term goal: make my ex jealous with my fabulous life, in which I’d clearly forgotten all about him.

  “Dow
nstairs bath is over there. Washer and dryer is in the hallway on the way to the garage. Is that, um, SUV the only car you have?” I’d better watch myself. I almost called it a rust bucket. I didn’t know a whole hell of a lot about men, but insulting his car seemed a pretty obvious mistake.

  Rhett paused with his nose in my junk drawer. Fuck a duck, did I leave a tampon in there?

  “Yes, that’s the only one. I can park on the street, right?”

  “Sure.” Shit. That ugly thing was going to be parked outside my house all the time? “Except for Tuesday mornings when we have street sweeping. I might be able to move things around in the garage so you can fit it in there.”

  Rhett finally closed the drawer and came up to me, grinning, of course. “Oh, you don’t need to do that. I’ll see if there’s room. If not, I don’t mind parking on the street.”

  I nodded weakly and kept walking, needing to speed up this little tour. “Upstairs are three bedrooms and two bathrooms. There’s also an office off the master that I use when I have a heavy deadline.”

  I was keenly aware of Rhett climbing the stairs behind me, his eyes level with my ample backside. My Italian heritage liked to show itself in my curly dark hair and a booty that didn’t stop. Regular Brazilian blowouts had taken care of the hair, but no amount of gym time seemed to make a dent in the butt. I could diet, but as I’d mentioned, I loved food. The breakup had been the only thing to stop my constant eating, but sadly, as my heart healed, so did my appetite.

  “Here we are. This is the master.” I opened a door to the left at the top of the staircase. My huge Cal King bed, with its fluffy white comforter and bazillion pillows, dominated the space, along with a turquoise chaise lounge by the window where I read books on occasion.

  Rhett crowded into the doorway next to me and there suddenly wasn’t enough oxygen in the room for this situation. I was keenly aware of his presence, that soap smell I caught a whiff of yesterday, and even the way his arm brushed against mine.