Pretending He's Mine

by Lauren Blakely

  “What did you have to do?”

  Bryan shook his head and laughed. “I went to NYU and I signed up for this mentorship class. I knew she was at school there, and I figured it was the best chance I had just to spend time with her. To get to know her again. And I got matched with her, and it was a crazy time for my company. We were being sued and my business partner turned out to be insane, but in the end it brought us back together. And I had to lay it out there with her. I had to tell her how I felt. That it was always her. That I’d always loved her. That she was the one for me.”

  “Good for you. That’s awesome. ‘Cause, obviously, she’s pretty damn happy.”

  “I’m pretty damn happy. So listen, whether you love this chick or just like her, you need to make it abundantly clear. Put your heart on a goddamn platter and give her the choice to be with you.”

  Reeve stood up. “You are a steely-eyed missile man. Or a wise man. Or Yoda. Or something. I’m gonna go find her.”

  “One more thing,” Bryan said from his post on the couch. “Don’t show up empty handed. Bring her a gift. But not flowers or chocolate. Get her something that matters to her.”

  Something that matters to her.

  Reeve knew exactly what that was.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “Is this going to fit?”

  He held up the sweater thing and asked the saleswoman.

  She nodded. “Yes, for that size and weight. It’ll be a perfect fit.”

  “Okay. Can you wrap it? But nothing too girly. Maybe just a black bow or something?”

  The saleswoman nodded, and minutes later she handed him the gift. He paid for it, thanked her, and ran the few blocks from the Madison Avenue shop to Sutton’s apartment building. He buzzed once and waited. There was no answer. He called her. She didn’t pick up her phone. Damn, this was going to hell quickly. So much for his big gesture. He looked down at the gift. Was it even the right big gesture?

  He buzzed once more, but was met with silence.

  “Come along, darling. Let’s go home and have some dinner.”

  He smiled to himself at the sound of her voice, then turned around. She was looking the other way as The Artful Dodger sniffed a bush. She looked adorable in her jeans and pullover jacket. She had a scarf around her neck, and her hair was down. He loved her hair. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, and run his fingers through those beautiful strands.

  He ran down the steps and stopped in front of her.

  “Oh.” She seemed taken aback to see him.

  “Hi.”

  “Hello.”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m great. How are you? Are you so excited about the movie? I bet your agent is thrilled. I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.”

  Reeve placed a hand on her arm. “You’re babbling. You’re making small talk. You’re chatting about business. I’m not here on business reasons. I’m here on personal reasons,” he said and smiled at her. He hoped she knew the smile was for her. That it was for real. But hoping and wishing wouldn’t be enough. “Sutton, I stand by what I said in the wine closet. You are the most stubborn and complicated woman I have ever known. But I also want to get to know you. I want to know the real you. I want to walk your dog with you and find out how you drink your coffee, and I want to see what you look like in the morning, and even if you think you don’t look hot in the mornings, I already know you’re wrong because you are always hot to me. I said yes to the job because I had a thing for you. I had a crush on you. And then I spent a week with you, and now I have a hell of a lot more than a crush on you.”

  He watched her as her features softened, as her hard shell started to break. “What do you mean more than a crush?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Sutton Brenner, I. LIKE. YOU. Okay? Not like fake fiancé like. Not like pretend boyfriend like. Not like an actor-trying-to-get-a-role like. I have fallen into mad like with you. And I have no idea if you like me back, okay? You needed something from me and yet it’s like you doubted me every step of the way, and I could be making a complete ass of myself and reading everything wrong, and maybe it was only one way. Maybe it was only me for you. But if you like me at all too, then let’s just see what happens when we’re not trying to get something?”

  Sutton muttered something in a small voice.

  Reeve shook his head. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “I’m sorry I was difficult. I’m sorry I was infuriating. I’m sorry I was hot and cold.”

  “It’s okay,” Reeve said and moved closer to her. He glanced down and saw The Artful Dodger wagging his tail. “Your dog looks happy.”

  “He’s always happy,” Sutton said with a smile. “He’s also especially happy when I’m happy.”

  “Are you then? Happy?”

  She nodded. “I like you too,” she said, and he knew how hard it was for her to say those words.

  “For real?”

  “For real. So for real it’s like beyond real,” she said. “I like you almost as much as I like my dog.”

  Reeve wrapped her in an embrace. “Now that’s saying a lot. And speaking of, I got him a gift.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Sutton’s fingers nervously undid the ribbon. Her heart was fluttering and her body was singing, and she felt so foolish for having doubted him. She’d been falling for her actor boy, falling so hard she’d feared how much it would hurt. Now, he was here and he had a gift for her dog. She held the leash tightly in one hand as she opened the box.

  She gasped when she saw what was inside. A perfect navy blue fleece coat for the winter months. She pulled it out quickly. “It’s the perfect size for him! How did you know his size?”

  Reeve shrugged. “Told you I was good with sizes. I took a wild guess that he was about nine pounds. Was I right?”

  “He’s exactly nine pounds! You got my dog a gift,” she said and maybe it seemed small, and maybe it seemed silly, but the fact was Reeve knew the way to her heart was through her dog. “I can’t wait to put it on him. Let’s get rid of this old ratty coat and take him for a walk in his new one.” Then she stopped talking and her nerves came back. “That is, if you want to?”

  “Sutton Brenner, I went into a dog accessory shop on Madison Avenue. Yes, I want to walk your dog with you. But there’s also something I want you to do for me.”

  “Yes?”

  “I want you to ask me to spend the night with you, and I want you to let me stay over.”

  She blushed. “Reeve, will you spend the night with me?”

  He nodded, and leaned in to brush his lips against hers. It felt good. It felt right. It felt real.

  Epilogue

  Present Day

  The metal dug into his wrists. The bright lights shone on him. He was handcuffed to the bedpost, wearing only his boxer briefs and cowboy boots. Because that’s what the script dictated the lead actor in Escorted Lives should wear in this scene. And Reeve had not only won a part, as Janelle had promised, he’d won the starring role.

  “Tell me when it hurts.”

  “Doesn’t hurt,” he said.

  A pair of hands wrapped around him, tugging on each end of the handcuffs, tightening them. He felt another pair of hands slide up his back. He sucked in a breath. He could have acted. He could have pretended it didn’t feel great when Sutton Brenner touched him. But it did, it had and it probably always would. Even now, four months later, four months into their real relationship, everything with her was amazing, right down to the real ring he’d put on her finger last week. They weren’t fake fiancés anymore. They’d fallen fast into real like during that one week, and even faster into real love in the months that followed.

  But she wasn’t acting in the film with him so she stepped back to take her post with the crew and watch the pivotal scene as the leading client had his way with her male escort. Somewhere, along with the crew too, was Janelle, the peeping tom. She was quite the voyeur, but then everyone had their peccadilloes.

  Reeve and Sutton had t
heirs. They’d done plenty of wild things in their time together, but Reeve’s favorite and Sutton’s too was when he asked her to beg for it. She always did, and he always made sure she was rewarded.

  Then they’d fall asleep together, and wake up together, and go to dinner and the movies and dog walks together, and every real second with her was as excellent as every pretend second had been.

  Better, actually.

  But for now, he put Sutton and their times out of his mind. He had a role to play. A job to do. He was an actor, and he was giving it his all as the camera started to roll.

  Bonus Scenes from

  Caught Up In Us!!

  Dear readers: As a thank you, I wrote two additional scenes from Caught Up In Us and they are newly published in eBook form here for the first time! Both are from Bryan’s POV. If you haven’t yet read Caught Up In Us, these two scenes contain spoilers.

  Xoxo

  Lauren

  Scene: This scene takes place when Bryan finds Kat at the movie theater midway through the story to tell her how he feels…

  I can’t concentrate with her in the conference room. I can barely process a single word my VP of Operations is saying. We have a major problem with a supplier and all I can think of is Kat and how she won’t even talk to me. She’s sitting at the other end of the table, taking notes with a purple pen, and it’s just so her. She’s always loved purple.

  I rub a hand over my chin. God, I can’t believe I’m in a meeting thinking about her favorite fucking color, when I should be focusing on the company I’m running so I don’t drive it into the ground.

  I push back in my chair and stand up. “Let’s wrap this meeting. I’m going for a run,” I say, then I take off for my office, shut the door, and change into workout clothes. I’m not going to be able to solve any of these supplier problems if I have to be in the same room with her, given how she’s been ignoring me. I need to get her out of my head, since she doesn’t seem to even want to be in the same room.

  I leave, shutting the door hard behind me and head for the elevators. I press the button and wait, and seconds later I hear a familiar click of shoes. I turn and there she is.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Going for a run?” she asks, then she winces, as if she wishes she hadn’t talked to me.

  She’s rebuffed all the efforts I made to talk to her in the last week. After what happened on the couch in my office I thought maybe we had a chance at something again. Then she took off, and she kept taking off. They say actions speak louder than words, and her actions are a morning alarm clock.

  I’ve got to play it cool with her. “Running helps me think. I swear I do my best problem solving on the trails and bike paths.”

  “I find I do a great job keeping track of how much I never want to run again when I’m running.”

  That earns a smile from me. “That’s right. You’re all about walking.”

  The elevator arrives and I hold out my hand, watching her as she steps inside, thinking about the last time she had a skirt on, and how that skirt gave me such easy access to the places on her I wanted the most. The thought flashes through my mind that I could press the stop button, run a hand up the back of her thigh, and between her legs. Then, she turns around, but I don’t stop picturing how much I want to take off her underwear, press her into the corner of the elevator and finish everything we started on my couch. Finish it, then start it again, and again. I want to crush my lips against hers, and grab her small little waist in my hands, and then lift her onto that elevator bar, and…

  But I can’t. I have to tell her how I feel first. I have to let her know that she’s not just a quickie on the couch. That she’s not just a screw in the elevator.

  I force myself to make small talk with her until the elevator reaches the first floor. When the door opens, I picture her walking away, and I feel like my chest is being squeezed. “Kat,” I say in a low voice.

  She moves closer to me, a softness to her face. “What is it?”

  But I don’t even know how to say all the things I owe to her.

  “Nothing.”

  I leave first and start running the second I hit the sidewalk. I run hard and fast up Lexington, pushing past midday crowds. If anyone was looking at me, they’d think I was the most intense, focused runner. But all my focus is on her. I can’t pretend she means nothing to me. She’s always meant something to me. She’s always meant the most to me. Sure, the board is breathing down my neck, and I’ve got to run a squeaky clean operation, but hell, I’m a mess inside, torqued and twisted with all the things I’ve wanted to say to her for five years, let alone the last few weeks, and I’m fed up with the way she avoids me. I’ve got to know how she feels. I turn the other way, my sneakers pounding the concrete on the way back to the movie theater. I know that’s where she’s gone. I buy a ticket for any movie. Doesn’t matter which film because I’m not here for the movies. I stop in a few theaters, scanning quickly for her. I find her in some action flick, near the back, all slinked down in her seat.

  My fists are clenched, but it’s because I’m nervous. Because I’m going to put it out there for her. I sit next to her, place a hand on her cheek, and force her to look at me. The feel of her skin on my hand is almost too much.

  “You’re making me crazy,” I say.

  “I am? Why?”

  “You act like nothing happened.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “How can you just be like this? Like it was nothing what happened?”

  “How can you?”

  “I called you that day. I emailed you that afternoon. You totally blew me off, and I’ve been looking for every chance to talk to you.”

  “You haven’t been trying that hard.”

  “Bullshit, Kat. I’ve tried to talk to you every time you’ve been by and you know it.”

  Some dude a few rows up gives us a dirty look. As if I care. Still, I lower my voice. “Do you have any idea what I’m going through at work?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  The guy looks back again. “Keep it down, okay?”

  Kat gestures to the door and I take her by the elbow and lead her out. We’re alone in the hall, and soon I tell her everything—the board, the lawsuit, all the crazy pressure I’m under. Then I tell her the thing I most want her to know.

  “I have not been able to stop thinking about that afternoon. I have not been able to stop thinking about you,” I say.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Scene: This scene takes place before the final chapter of Caught Up In Us. This is when Kat tells Bryan they can be together.

  The bell jingles behind me as I leave Mystic Landing, having just said goodbye to Kat’s parents. As I walk to the nearby train station, my head is filled with ideas on how to revamp the store. Kat said her parents’ shop has been struggling, but I already have some plans on how I can help.

  I walk past the local coffee shop, and I’m hit with the memory of the first time Kat and I went here together five years ago. This cafe reminds me of her, everything in this town—understandably—reminds me of her since this is where we met, and this is where we first fell in love.

  Now, she’s back in New York City and I’ve got to do everything I can to stay busy for the next five weeks until we can see each other again the way we want to. As I reach the train station and buy a ticket, I find myself rewinding to that night in Paris when we first slept together, and then did it again, and again. I’d been waiting five years for that and it was worth it. Every thing about being with her is worth it.

  But now we’re on ice again, back to being mentor and protege and acting as if there’s not a thing more between us, when there’s everything between us. When she’s the only one for me, and I wish I didn’t have to wait five more weeks to be with her for real. You’d think five years apart would have trained me for the waiting. But no. When you realize that you want to be with someone always, and that you’re damn lucky enough to get a second chance with the most per
fect girl in the world, you don’t want to put anything on hold.

  Except we have to stay apart, for her sake so she can get her business degree, and I want that for her. As the train pulls into the station, and I grab a seat, I force myself to focus on what I want to do for Kat’s parents’ store over the next month, and how I can picture changing things, fixing things, mixing them up. As we race across Connecticut, dusk falls, and the quiet little towns are shrouded in shadows. We cross into New York, and I turn to my phone and answer emails from my team at Made Here, signing off on supply chain plans, and a few notes from the board with final details on the end of the lawsuit my former business partner brought against our company.

  “Glad to have this finally behind us,” I write in an email, then close out the inbox. I run my finger over the screen, wishing there was a note from Kat, wishing I could meet her at Grand Central Station in thirty minutes when my train arrives. We’d make plans for dinner, I’d take her to an Italian restaurant I know she’d love that has amazing desserts, then we’d walk back to my place, and once inside I would have my hands all over her. We wouldn’t even make it up the stairs of my brownstone. I’d lift up her skirt, and she’d be ready, so ready for me, and she’d want it right then and there on the stairs. And then when we finally found our way inside, we’d christen the couch, and then the island in the kitchen, but then we’d spent the night in my bed, and I’d take it slow, and I’d make her feel loved and wanted and desired all night long. Because she is. By me. And I will never stop wanting her. I will never stop wanting to make her happy.

  Damn, this is going to be the longest five weeks of my life.

  I switch over to Words with Friends, catching up on some of the games going on with guys from the factory. I snag a double word score with “Cave” in one as the message light flashes. It’s probably just another email from my ops guy, so I ignore it, making a move in another game. A minute later, the phone rings.

  Kat.