A Chance for Us (Willow Creek Valley Book 4)

by Corinne Michaels

  I think I might be going insane because a part of me wonders if maybe there’s something here.

  I look down at him, and he smiles. “What?”

  “Nothing,” I say quickly, my hair falling over my face.

  Oliver doesn’t let me get away with it, he pushes it back, forcing me to look at him. “Are you okay?”

  I don’t feel okay. I feel lost and out of control, but I won’t say that aloud. Instead, I nod and focus on my emotions.

  I like this. I like being with him, and none of this is supposed to be real. I don’t want to like him, at least not as more than a friend. Only, when he looks at me like this, I forget it’s a ruse.

  I forget that I’m supposed to be acting.

  The tapping of the glasses happens again, and I’m not sure if I’m happy that I’m going to kiss him again or upset because I wanted to kiss him without the clanging.

  Oliver’s hand slides to the back of my head, pulling me to him. Our lips touch, and I want to cry when my father says, “This is all I ever wanted for her.”

  Twelve

  MAREN

  “You seem nervous,” Devney says as she helps me move my wedding dress into my new room.

  “I am.”

  Every member of my family has told me how lucky I am to have Oliver. He’s always smiling, laughing, or making jokes, and appears as though he’s in love with me. Even Linda seems smitten with him—at least she is when she’s not pointing out something else that’s hard for her. Oliver handles her like a pro, though, easing her worries and finding a way to make her smile.

  The worst part is how much I find myself wanting to be near him.

  “Why? You’ve done it. You get married tomorrow and give your dad everything you’ve been trying for.”

  “I know!” I say as I sit on the bed. “That’s the issue. I did it!”

  “I’m not following.”

  I stare at my best friend, wondering how she’s confused. “I didn’t think we would pull it off. But we did. And it’s been great. And he keeps kissing me.”

  Devney smiles. “I see.”

  “Do you? Do you see? I’m a lying horrible girl who keeps kissing this guy who makes my toes curl.”

  Her jaw falls slack. “He makes . . . your toes curl?”

  “And that makes me a horrible human. He’s your ex.”

  “Yes, but I’m married—happily.”

  I groan. “And I like him. I can’t like him.”

  “Yes, it’s always best not to like the man you’re about to stand up in front of God and marry.”

  “Fake. Fake and it’s my boss, not God. Please don’t ever say that around Mark or he’ll start thinking he’s a prophet or something.”

  She laughs and takes my hand. “Listen, all of this is good. Oliver is a great guy and . . . well, it’s a little weird, but not bad that you like him. You guys don’t even look like it’s acting, which says something.”

  “Yes, it says I can’t do this.”

  “Maren, you have to get it together. You’re doing this. You have to.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “So, you’re going to what? Go out there and tell everyone the truth now? That’s your big plan?”

  I flop back, my head bouncing on the mattress. “I have no plan. I have no plans because I’m a bad planner.”

  “I love you, but you’re nuts.”

  “Yes. Add that to the list. I’m a liar. Nuts. A hussy who likes kissing your ex. Which also makes me a bad friend. I’m going to hell.”

  “You’re not going to hell. Well, we all probably are, but not because of this.”

  I sit up quickly, causing her to jump. “And what about what I’m doing to Oliver. Huh? What about the pain I’m inflicting because of my selfish need to make others happy?”

  “Oliver didn’t look like he was suffering too much. Look, he’s a good guy, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for a friend. And while I know this isn’t what he thought he’d be doing this weekend, he’s doing it to make you happy. Just don’t hurt him, Mare. If Oliver didn’t want to help, he wouldn’t.”

  “I know and the last thing I want is to hurt him.”

  Devney broke Oliver’s heart. He loved her and was ready to propose to her before she called off their relationship to be with her now-husband. I know how hard it was for her, still is. She loved Oliver, but he wasn’t the right guy and they ended things as amicably as two people can. Still, I know he’s a good guy. I’m watching it all play out.

  I sink back onto the bed and drop my head into my hands. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  “You do what you set out to do. You go out there and make your father happy. Then you deal with it all.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  There’s a knock at the door, and Devney heads over to open it. “Hey, Ollie.”

  “Hey, is Maren . . .” He looks in, seeing me lying on the bed. “Is she okay?”

  I lift my hand. “Just . . . regretting my life choices.”

  He snorts. “What the hell does that mean?”

  I look at him from the side. “Just let me lie here and live in my shame.”

  Devney huffs. “I’ve tried to talk sense into her, but she’s spiraling.” She pats his chest. “I wish you luck and call me if you need reinforcements.”

  “Traitor!” I yell as she walks out.

  Oliver closes the door and comes to stand beside my bed. “As much as I wish we could just stay in here and pretend the world doesn’t exist, we have to go since we’re the main event. Are you almost ready for dinner?”

  I close my eyes and groan. “No.”

  I feel the mattress depress as he sits. “No?”

  Opening just one eye, I peek at him. “I’m having guilt and shame and regret for what we’re doing.”

  “I would think it’s normal to feel that. Your family is really great, and lying to them isn’t easy.”

  I push up onto my elbows. “No, it’s not. My family just seems so happy about all this.”

  “But, I mean, isn’t that what we want?”

  “Yes, and it’s an issue.”

  He lies down beside me. “All right then. It’s an issue, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m backing away now. You pulled me into this, and we’re going until the bitter end.”

  “What if I told my dad?”

  “And what? How does that end well?”

  “It doesn’t.”

  He shifts to his side. “Look at me. You are doing this for the right reasons. Okay? You wanted to give a dying man his wish. More than that, though, this is something you deserve to give to yourself. You will get into your wedding dress, have your hair done, and allow a man who loves you to have a moment he dreamed of. After he dies . . .” He pauses and brushes his finger along my cheek. “You will still have that memory. It doesn’t matter who the guy at the end of the altar is, it’s about a father and a daughter.”

  I get to my feet. “I don’t deserve your friendship.”

  He follows me, but pulls me to look at him. “What makes you think I deserve yours? Why are you really freaking out?”

  I have no words. I can hear the steady thrum of my pulse and then, a tear falls as the truth slips from my lips. “I don’t want to lose him. I’m not ready to lose my dad.”

  He tugs me into his arms as grief grabs ahold of me. I see the daily deterioration in him. I see how hard just breathing is. My daddy is dying right in front of me. Each day a little bit of the life he had dwindles away.

  Oliver’s arms are wrapped around me, keeping me from falling apart.

  “I wish I could make him better,” he says against my ear. “I wish I could do something.”

  I lift my eyes to his. “You can. You are, right now. As much as you might not believe me, I didn’t plan any of this.”

  “Any of what?” Oliver asks.

  The only person I can be honest with is him. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I also didn’t think I could feel anything close to h
ow I am right now.

  “This. Us. The part of me that’s . . . it’s . . .”

  It’s a lot. It’s everything and fake, but sometimes it feels so real. Like when he reaches for me or holds my hand, it’s as though we really do want each other. Or right now, when he’s comforting me.

  “Not so hard pretending some moments.”

  “A lot of moments,” Oliver clarifies.

  That’s what has me so twisted too. It’s easy to pretend that I really care about him, that we feel right. When we are around everyone and I look for him only to find him looking for me, it feels right. And that is freaking crazy because he is Oliver—and not the one I was going to marry.

  Still, I don’t know how I could not feel this way. He agreed to my crazy plan and has been amazing through it.

  Oliver’s eyes meet mine, the energy around us shifts as if he is thinking about the same thing. My heart speeds up as his head dips lower.

  “What moments, Maren?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly.

  “Just some.”

  His hands move so he can splay his long fingers at the small of my back. His tall frame towers over me, and I lean in a smidge. He smells so good, like wood and leather with a hint of whiskey. My fingers itch to touch him, to slide up his chest so I can feel the muscles beneath his shirt.

  “What about when I kiss you, are you faking it then?”

  Oliver doesn’t move, just stands there, looking into my eyes, and I shake my head slightly. “No. Are you?”

  “No.”

  “If I asked you to kiss me now, would you be pretending?” I volley the question at him.

  “Do you want me to kiss you?”

  I do what I had been thinking before, moving my hands up along his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. “This is crazy.”

  “I know.”

  “We’re supposed to be . . .”

  “Pretending,” Oliver finishes before crushing his lips to mine.

  We kiss, and oh God do we kiss. His warm mouth presses to mine before we both open to each other and our tongues meet. The heat of his body is against mine as we clutch at each other. I ache for him to touch me, to erase all the emotions that have been smothering me. When he’s near, it’s easier to breathe. It’s as though his laughter and smile give me the ability to keep going.

  “Oliver,” I say softly before his tongue pushes back into my mouth.

  He moans, pulling me tighter, and then we’re moving. I feel my legs hit the bed before he guides me back and follows me down.

  We kiss more, breathing each other in, and my hands are moving to the hem of his shirt, lifting it. I want to feel his skin against mine.

  “God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he says before resuming the kiss.

  I feel beautiful with him.

  His hands move against my side, sliding up higher, and I arch, wanting him to keep going. His mouth leaves mine to move down my throat. Just as he reaches the valley between my breasts, a loud banging on my door halts us.

  “Maren! Your Heaven-sent Father has arrived,” Mark Dixon, my boss, says from the other side of the door.

  Oliver lifts his head, staring at me with questions. “Our reverend, my boss.”

  His head drops to my chest. “If that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is.”

  “We’ll be out in a second!” I call to Mark.

  “Your boss is a minister?”

  I turn back to Oliver and give him the lowdown, but the abridged version. “I wanted you to meet my bosses before the event since you’re supposed to already know them,” I explain. “I . . . forgot about that part since you know, he doesn’t know that you’re not the Oliver I was marrying a few days ago.”

  Oliver gets up, extending his hand to me. I rise, fixing my rumpled dress as Oliver turns his back to the door and straightens his own clothing. Once we’re both presentable, I open the door, and Mark grins at me with one brow raised. “And what exactly were the bride and groom doing in here?”

  “Zip it,” I warn.

  He laughs, elbowing Jackson. “I think we interrupted.”

  Jackson looks at my face. “I think so.”

  “Just get in here and don’t be jerks, please. It’s been a hard week, and I’d like you to meet Oliver.”

  They both chuckle. “I’m sure something is hard,” Mark can’t seem to help himself.

  When they walk in, they come to a stop. “Umm, who is this?”

  I clear my throat. “Jackson Cole, Mark Dixon, meet Oliver, my fiancé. Kind of.”

  The two of them glance at each other and then back to me. Jackson gets ahold of himself first. “I’m confused, where is Oliver?”

  Glad they’re so smart. “I have no idea. The last time I talked to him, he dumped me.”

  “When? Why?”

  Jackson speaks next. “I’ll kill him.”

  “Calm down. It’s fine because . . .” Because I’m falling for my new fake fiancé who is named Oliver. “. . . it just is.”

  Mark’s eyes narrow. “How is it fine? I never liked him. He has shifty eyes. Never trust a man with shifty eyes. That’s what I always say.”

  “When the hell do you say that?” Jackson asks.

  “All the time. Catherine is right, you don’t listen.”

  I sigh heavily, gaining both men’s attention. “Back to why you’re both here. I would like you to meet my new fiancé.”

  “Wait, what? How in the span of two weeks did you get dumped and engaged again?”

  “If you would let me speak, I can explain,” I say with exasperation. Some days I love my bosses, today not so much.

  I walk over to Oliver and grip his arm. “This is Oliver Parkerson. We have been friends since we were in college, and . . . well, he’s helping me. Also, he’s signed all the necessary paperwork for the company.”

  “Okay, but helping you how?” Jackson asks.

  I sigh and then launch into the entire story. By the end, they both look gleefully amused by my antics.

  “You just went out and found someone else to marry?” Mark asks with a brow raised. “I’m not sure if I’m impressed or worried.”

  “And you said you wouldn’t be good in the field,” Jackson says with a laugh. “You might just be as good as anyone else on our team.”

  “Charlie would be impressed,” Mark says. “So, you want us to go along with this?”

  I nod. “I need you to keep up the work part of it. Obviously, you’d know Oliver and he’d know you.”

  Jackson laughs. “Glad you were at least thinking there. Well, new Oliver, I’m Jackson and this is Mark. Let’s get you caught up on us so you can survive this.”

  The three guys start to talk, and not even five minutes later, you’d think they were best friends. I’m convinced there isn’t a person alive who wouldn’t love Oliver. It’s remarkable.

  “Basically, when we start to talk about work things, you nod, smile, or laugh. It helps if you keep a beer in your hand in case you need to avoid answering a question,” Jackson explains.

  “No problem, I’ve been having to do this all week with family.”

  Mark shakes his head, letting out a sigh. “I want it to be on record that I think this is stupid.”

  “Yes, yes,” I say with a groan. “Everyone does.”

  Oliver speaks up in my defense. “I thought it was stupid too until I met her father. I see it now, why Maren would want to do this for him. He’s a great guy, and his time is fading away. I think this whole thing has given him peace.”

  Tears well in my eyes, and I step to him, needing to hug him, thank him, hold him because he’s done something I can never repay. “You understand it?” I ask.

  “I do.”

  “Hey, that’s what you say tomorrow,” Mark cuts in.

  “Yeah, we’ll save it for the vows tomorrow.”

  Oliver pulls me to his side and kisses my temple. “Tomorrow.”

  Thirteen

  OLIVER

  “So, today is
the big day,” Grayson says with a grin.

  “Shut up.”

  “You’re really going to do this?”

  I shake my head because, at this point, what else is there to say? Yes, I’m doing this. Why? Because I’m an idiot. Am I sure? No, I’m not fucking sure, but I said I would, so I’m going to. Over and over, my siblings have pestered me, asking the same shit. Except for Stella. No, my beautiful sister hasn’t asked me anything, she just walked over to me, kissed my cheek, and then patted it.

  I swear she does stuff like that just to drive me crazy.

  “You know, I wish I could say I wouldn’t,” Gray muses as he kicks his heels onto the ottoman. “I think that, as much as we claim we would walk away, none of us would. Women are smart creatures.”

  I turn away, hoping it will stop him from talking, but of course, it doesn’t.

  “They know how to appeal to our hero complexes, and Lord knows you have the biggest one of all of us.”

  “Uh-huh,” I say, pouring myself another glass of whiskey. At least whiskey doesn’t talk, it just makes me feel good.

  “You were always the first one to run to help Stella—or any girl, really. If they were hurt, you wanted to soothe them. If they cried, you dried their eyes. If they needed something, you’d find a way.”

  “You’re making me sound like a pussy,” I muse and then toss the drink back.

  “You are that, but . . .”

  I turn, huffing loudly. “Are you here to help or piss me off?”

  “Which am I doing?”

  “Take a guess.”

  Gray laughs. “Ease up, Ollie. I’m just saying that you’re a good guy.”

  “No,” I say, stopping whatever else he might be thinking. “I’m no better than Dad.”

  Grayson, the annoying dickhead he is, shakes his head. “You are not Dad.”

  “I’m fucking lying to everyone. I’m going to pretend to marry someone.”

  “For a good cause.”

  “And I am sure he thought all his lies were for a good reason.”

  Grayson tilts his head. “You really think that? You really think he gave a single fuck about anyone other than himself? I promise you, he didn’t. He didn’t protect us with his lies. He lied because he was too selfish to admit he was cheating on Mom. What is your gain in this? What do you get out of helping Maren? Where is your prize?”