Her Fill-In Fiancé

by Stacy Connelly

  Male bonding between Jake and her dad… Sophia set aside the knife. If Jake had been a real boyfriend, she would have been glad to hear they were spending time together. But nothing about their relationship was real.

  When I held you, when I kissed you, that was not part of the job.

  Okay, so maybe the physical chemistry was genuine, but she was pregnant with another man’s child. In a few months, she’d have a beach ball for a belly, and not long after that would come breastfeeding, sleepless nights and all the other demands of a newborn baby. Physical attraction was not going to cut it. Not by a long shot.

  “It’s time for them to come back inside and clean up,” her mother said. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

  “I’ll go tell them.” Sophia stepped toward the back door, only to turn back around again as the combination of crustless bread and batter finally clicked. “Is that French toast?”

  “Sure is.” Vanessa smiled as she dropped the first of the pieces of bread into the egg, sugar and cinnamon mixture. “Jake says it’s his favorite.”

  “Yeah,” Sophia said faintly, trapped by rich, decadent memories of the meal they’d shared in a small St. Louis diner. “It is now.”

  No one would mistake Jake Cameron as a long-lost Pirelli relative, but as Sophia walked across the backyard to her dad’s garage/workshop, her first thought when she saw Jake and her dad working on the DOA lawn trimmer was that he looked like he belonged.

  In a black T-shirt and a pair of tattered jeans faded to white at the seams, knees and—Sophia spent way too much time noticing—rear, he was sexy enough to pose for a pinup calendar. And yet with a smudge of grease marking one cheek and a boyish grin on his face, he looked like a kid in a candy store…or maybe a hardware store.

  Jake looked happy—like the guy she’d met in St. Louis. Easygoing, carefree, a man she could love instead of a man who held his secrets close while keeping people at a distance.

  And her dad…he looked exactly as he did whenever her brothers had some extra time to spend with him doing anything. Her mother was right. The lawn trimmer was sacrificing itself for a long-honored tradition of male bonding, and her dad was in his element.

  Having Jake here was supposed to make it easier to tell her family the truth about Todd, but seeing him working with Vince, Sophia was starting to realize the harder truth might be telling her family about Jake.

  She should come clean now, Sophia decided as she walked closer to the two men. Tell the truth and tell Jake goodbye. But her steps and her resolve faltered as she drew closer as if she could put off the future by simply refusing to put one foot in front of the other.

  “Hi, princess,” Vince called out as he caught sight of her. “’Bout time you got outta bed.”

  “I’ve been up, Dad,” she retorted, the old argument playing like a worn record, but unlike years past, Sophia could now see the teasing spark in her dad’s brown eyes. “So tell me, what did that poor lawn trimmer ever do to you?”

  “Hasn’t been working right.”

  “Did you figure out what’s wrong with it?”

  “Yep,” Jake said sagely as he wiped his hands on an old rag.

  He exchanged a glance with Vince who confessed, “Nothing a new machine won’t fix.”

  Sophia laughed. “Well, I guess I should be glad it was Sam who hijacked my car for maintenance.”

  “Hey, who do you think taught that boy all he knows?”

  It was a claim he made of all his sons’ talents, and Sophia rolled her eyes. “You, Dad.”

  “You know it,” he said with a fatherly pride that sent another one of those pains arrowing into her gut even as he brushed a kiss against her cheek. “Great guy you’ve got there,” he said in what he thought was a whisper even though it carried loud and clear. “Not so good with his hands, though.”

  As Sophia met Jake’s gaze over her dad’s shoulder, the kindled desire in his golden gaze brought a flush of heat to her cheeks. She certainly could have refuted her father’s statement but figured her dad didn’t really want to know just how talented Jake’s hands truly were. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I think my masculinity just took a hit,” Jake said once Vince had made his way back to the house.

  “More like a whack,” she said with a pointed look at the defunct trimmer. “But your ego will survive.”

  “It might need some serious resuscitation first.”

  “Yeah, right,” Sophia scoffed as if she wasn’t tempted. Seriously tempted. “Two words, Jake—French toast.”

  His eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “You think that was ego?”

  A request guaranteed to make Sophia remember the way she’d succumbed so easily to his kiss? “What would you call it?”

  “Penance?”

  “What?”

  Jake stepped closer. “You really think I’ll be able to take one single bite without thinking of your taste? Your kiss?”

  Sophia swallowed hard. Hadn’t she just decided that attraction wasn’t enough? That more—a lot more—was needed before she could even come close to considering any kind of a relationship?

  And yet she could see a tenderness along with the desire in his golden gaze, the combination much harder to resist. He hadn’t even kissed her, hadn’t even touched her, yet her lips were already tingling, her body was already trembling.…

  And when he finally pulled her into his arms, Sophia swallowed a sigh of gratitude because it would have been so, so embarrassing to fall at his feet. Then he kissed her, his mouth brushing against hers, his lips teasing hers to open, tempting her to touch, to taste.

  As Sophia kissed him back, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. The heat of the summer sun and the heat of Jake’s strong back warmed the soft cotton of his T-shirt inside and out, and she couldn’t get close enough. When he trailed kisses across her cheek to the sensitive skin behind her ear and back again, Sophia feared she was going to end up falling after all.

  Chapter Seven

  Hope Daniels’s Victorian house on the edge of town was very much like the woman herself—eclectic yet elegant. Traditional with a touch of whimsical. The same garden statues, wind chimes and copper whirly-gigs on display in her shop decorated her yard amid a profusion of wildflowers.

  Hope once told Sophia she opened her shop because she ran out of room for her treasures at home.

  Despite the welcoming stone path leading to the front porch, Sophia hesitated. Her mother had assured her Hope would love to see her, but Sophia’s knees were shaking with each step.

  His arms loaded down with the meals Vanessa had made, Jake slowed his long stride to match her near crawl. “You’re not that same girl.”

  “What?”

  “Whatever happened five years ago, you aren’t that same girl anymore.”

  “What do you mean whatever happened? You know what happened.”

  “I read a report. I’m still waiting for you to tell me your side of the story.”

  Hadn’t she longed for this? For someone other than her family to believe in her, to trust her side of the story instead of the one the Learys had told to protect their daughter, Amy?

  The girl she’d thought was her best friend.

  From the moment Jake offered to stay, she’d tried to pretend his presence was nothing more than a convenient distraction, a diversion to turn the focus away from her own visit home for the first time in years, and a way to delay telling her parents the truth for a little while longer.

  But the kiss that morning forced Sophia to accept what she’d been afraid to admit all along. The reality was she wanted Jake here, and she feared the only moment she was truly delaying was the time when he would leave. “Jake—”

  Her next words were lost as a sudden flurry of barking preceded Jake’s startled curse. He struggled to hold on to the food containers as he tried to shake off a gray, hairless creature attached to his pant leg. “What is that thing?”

  Sophia peered closer, taking in a pair of black e
yes and white tufts of fur on its head and tail. “This must be one of Hope’s dogs. She’s always taking in rescues.”

  “Dog?” Disbelief lifted Jake’s voice above the dog’s menacing growl. “I’ve seen dogs before. That—that’s some kind of rodent.”

  “That,” a familiar voice called out, “is most certainly not a rodent. Bonita is a Chinese Crested and perhaps the finest watchdog I have ever owned.”

  Framed by the open front door, Hope Daniels sat in her wheelchair like a queen on a throne. A few lines fanned out from her eyes and a hint of gray lightened her blond hair at the temples, but despite the cast on her ankle, Hope appeared as energetic and striking as ever.

  At a high-pitched call from Hope, Bonita dropped from Jake’s pant leg, hopped up the steps and jumped into her mistress’s lap with a last glare and growl at Jake. “You’ll have to forgive my little Bonnie here,” Hope told Jake. “She has very discriminating taste. As I’m sure Sophia will tell you, I’m not nearly so picky.”

  When his questioning glance shot her way, Sophia murmured, “Hope has been married five times.”

  With an unapologetic grin, the forty-something woman held out a hand with all fingers splayed. She pushed the chair backward with her uninjured foot, disappearing into the house. “Come on in, and don’t worry about the dogs.”

  “You mean there’s more than one?” Jake asked with mock dread.

  As it turned out, Hope had four—a shepherd mix Sophia remembered from four years earlier, a yellow lab puppy, a black and white 100 percent mutt, and five-pound Bonita, who ruled them all.

  Once Hope instructed Jake to stash all the food in the refrigerator, she led the way to the parlor. As she pushed up from the wheelchair, Sophia hurried forward to lend a hand.

  “It’s so good to see you,” the other woman announced.

  Sophia blinked back tears as Hope enveloped her in a hug scented with the same cinnamon potpourri that filled her shop. Hope was kind-hearted and generous, but Sophia hadn’t expected this warm a welcome.

  “It’s good to see you, too. When I saw the store was closed…” Her voice trailed away, filled with memories—likely the last time the store had been closed.

  Hope shook her head as she lowered herself onto the floral wingback chair and called Bonita to her side. “The store is fine. I’m fine—just clumsy,” she added with a laugh and a wave at the bright-pink cast on her ankle. “But I’m much more interested in what you’ve been doing…and with whom.”

  Sophia refused to glance Jake’s way. She knew her embarrassment would only encourage the other woman, but that didn’t stop heat from rising in her cheeks. Keeping her attention on straightening the skirt of her sundress, she said, “Hope, this is Jake Cameron. Jake, Hope Daniels. She’s the owner of The Hope Chest.”

  Ignoring Bonita’s fierce growls and the snapping jaws inches from his fingers, Jake took Hope’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Hope’s gray eyes sparkled behind her glasses. “I’ve been stuck in this house since I busted my ankle. Believe me, the pleasure’s all mine.”

  Jake winced and pulled his arm back as Hope’s little dog made contact. “And Bonita’s, too, I’m sure.”

  “This must be a first,” Sophia murmured, hiding a smile as Jake claimed a spot next to her on the sofa. “A female unwilling to surrender to your charm.”

  “Not to worry, Mr. Cameron,” Hope interjected. “The ones who make you work a little harder always offer the greatest reward.”

  “So I’m learning,” Jake agreed. He stretched his arm along the back of the sofa, his fingers playing with a strand of Sophia’s short hair. Goosebumps shivered across her shoulders and down her arms. The last thing she needed was for Jake to try harder. Just sitting beside him made every nerve ending come alive.

  Turning her focus away from Jake, Sophia said, “I hope you’ll feel well enough to come to the surprise party we’re having for my parents’ thirty-fifth anniversary.”

  “A surprise party! What a wonderful idea. Your parents will be thrilled. Of course, they’re already so excited just to have you home.”

  “Well, this is a big milestone. I wasn’t going to miss it.”

  “But…you are here for more than just the party, right?”

  “No, Hope. I’m only visiting for a few weeks.”

  “I see.” Hope smiled, but Sophia saw the disappointment draw at her expression. “It’s just—we’ve all hoped that one day you’d come home.”

  Hope knew better than most why that could never happen, so Sophia simply said, “I’m sure my parents would love to see you at the party.”

  “I’ll be there. Wheelchair-accessible or not.”

  “You need any help, just let me know,” Jake offered.

  “My hero,” Hope answered with a fake swoon.

  Mine, too, Sophia thought as Jake offered to build a temporary ramp out the front door so Hope could avoid the steps, allowing her access to simple activities like watering her flowers, bringing in the paper and getting the mail. He had a way of putting people at ease, of making them feel at their best when he was around.

  And yes, he’d used that to his advantage in St. Louis, but she had a hard time stirring up any anger of his deception. Especially when she thought of how he’d done all he could to make this trip easier on her. Even coming here and seeing Hope hadn’t been nearly as difficult with Jake by her side.

  “But Sophia, you could be an absolute savior if you’d do me one small, teensy favor,” Hope added, drawing Sophia back into the conversation.

  “Anything,” Sophia promised.

  “Do you think, while you’re here, you could run the store for me?”

  Of all the small, teensy favors Hope could request, that was the last Sophia had expected. “Hope…”

  “You have the experience,” the shopkeeper reminded her.

  She had the experience all right, and a résumé that included breaking and entering and vandalism, even though Hope had refused to press charges. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

  “Please, Sophia.”

  Hope’s tone of voice didn’t change, but Sophia picked up on a desperation in the older woman’s plea. Few small businesses could afford to have their doors closed for long, but was The Hope Chest in real financial trouble? If that was the case, Hope would push to have the shop open as soon as possible even if it wasn’t in her own best interest.

  “Remember what I said, Sophia.” Jake murmured the encouragement in her ear, and she turned to meet his gaze.

  You aren’t that same girl.

  And of course, she wasn’t. She’d moved away; she’d grown up; she’d changed. It was harder to remember that in Clearville, where the past seemed to overshadow her like morning fog, but this was her chance. Hope was giving her this chance, and Sophia refused to disappoint her.

  “Of course I will.”

  “Wonderful!” Hope leaned back in her chair with a sigh of relief, startling a small yip of protest from Bonita. Picking up the small dog, Hope smiled. “Now that we have that out of the way, let’s move on to something far more interesting. When’s the big announcement?”

  Still focused on the idea of reopening The Hope Chest, Sophia had to mentally switch gears at the excited question. Hope had always possessed an uncanny knack for knowing when Sophia had news—good or bad—bottled up inside. Had the woman somehow picked up on Sophia’s pregnancy?

  Swallowing the butterflies threatening to break free from her stomach, Sophia asked, “Um, what announcement?”

  “About you and Jake, of course. A woman doesn’t bring a man home to meet her family unless things are serious,” Hope pointed out, knowingly. “So when is the wedding?”

  “Wedding! Can you believe it? This is what I get for lying, isn’t it? A snowball effect where we drop off a casserole and end up engaged!”

  A sound resembling a snort of laughter came from the other side of the car as Jake backed down Hope’s long driveway. Reaching over, Sophia
smacked Jake’s arm with the back of her hand. “Don’t you laugh about this! Not after the way you were egging Hope on back there.”

  Jake shot her an innocent look. “What did I do?”

  “Agreeing that fall is the perfect time of year for a wedding.”

  “All I said was that autumn is my favorite time of year. I didn’t say anything about a wedding.”

  “It was implied,” she ground out.

  “Just like a guy coming home to meet your family implies a serious relationship. Hope didn’t say anything that your family hasn’t already considered.”

  Sophia slumped back in the seat. Jake was right, and the assumptions were something she should have considered long before starting this pretense. “What am I going to do?”

  It was bad enough when she thought about telling her family Jake wasn’t really her boyfriend; how much worse would it be if they were thinking he was her fiancé?

  Jake was silent for so long, Sophia figured he’d taken her question as rhetorical instead of as an actual plea for ideas.

  “When the time comes,” he finally said, “blame me.”

  “What?”

  “I’m the bad guy,” he insisted, his hands tightening on the steering wheel, “and it’s my fault we broke up.”

  “Yeah, right.” Her family already liked Jake too much. Sophia closed her eyes. She already liked him too much. “You’ve played your part too well, Jake. My family thinks you’re great. What am I supposed to say to make them think I’m better off without you?”

  “Tell them I’m not a family man.”

  Unease twisted her stomach into a knot at the seriousness in Jake’s voice. “Why would I tell them that?” she asked, wondering if it wasn’t Jake telling her—warning her—he couldn’t handle a relationship that included another man’s child.

  Todd and his family hadn’t wanted anything to do with a baby that was their own flesh and blood; how could she expect so much more from Jake? But the answer he gave had nothing to do with her or her baby.

  “Because it’s the truth,” he said flatly. “I don’t know anything about being part of a family. After my parents divorced when I was a few years old, my mother married a man who made it clear he had no intention of being a father to a child who wasn’t really his son.”