by T Gephart
Thankfully she processed our rental, handing over the keys before any additional smiling or acting like an idiot was required.
“I’ll add the car rental to your fee,” I said, walking out to the lot. It wasn’t hard to find ours; there was only one red Mustang convertible on the lot.
Dave shook his head, “Nope, my choice in car and I’m paying it.” He hit the keyless entry; the door locks popping open at his command.
The argument was fresh in my throat before he stopped me. “Relax, I’ll give the receipt to my accountant and tell him it was a business-related expense. The guy literally gets off on deductions. So think of it as our gift to him if it makes you feel better.”
Not sure that it did. Him spending his own money on my gig made me uncomfortable, but getting into an argument in the rental parking lot at the airport wasn’t smart either.
While Shreveport wasn’t small, it sure as hell wasn’t L.A. There always seemed to be a neighbor, cousin, friend, teacher who taught you in third grade, ready at every turn. I couldn’t get three feet without hitting someone I knew, and the chance of running into someone seemed to be multiplied the longer I stood in one place. Like being hit by lightning in a storm, I was flying a kite with a key attached.
“Fine,” I relented, figuring we could worry about it later. “Let’s go to the hotel first.”
He nodded, dropping the suitcases by the trunk and shook the key fob between his fingers. “You going to direct me?”
“You know, it would just be easier if I drove considering I’m the one who knows where to go.” I leaned over against the side of the car. As much as I hated to admit it, it was a hell of a lot nicer than a Hyundai.
The edges of his lips twitched. “Or you just want to drive the fast car now we have it.”
“I’ve driven fast cars before. Jeremy has a Jag. I picked it up from the dealer,” I countered, not willing to concede that he was possibly correct in his assessment.
He pressed against me—unfairly using his delicious body as a weapon—smirking as he whispered in my ear. “I’m not so insecure in my manhood that I can’t let a woman drive. But make no mistake, the next time we take her out, she’s all mine.”
A nervous shiver ran through my body, holding out my palm as I waited for the key. “Deal.”
He didn’t hesitate, a satisfied chuckle passing through his lips as he popped the trunk and then dropped the key into my hand. He loaded our luggage into the back while I went around to the driver’s side.
I’d already started the car when he slid into the passenger seat, pulling across his seatbelt before flicking through the stereo presets. “We’re not doing country.” He smirked, settling on a classic rock station as we pulled out of the lot.
The drive to the hotel wasn’t long. Then again, it was less than eight miles to downtown, and even in the worst traffic didn’t take more than thirty minutes. Nowhere long enough to appreciate the car or his company, our ride coming to a quick end as I pulled up to the front of the hotel.
The Hilton was one of the few fancy hotels that wasn’t attached to a gambling facility. The Red River was lined with riverboat casinos filled with rednecks and high rollers alike. It didn’t have the sparkle of Vegas or the nostalgia of Atlantic City, but there were less retirees than Branson. And trust me, that was a positive. Just try standing between them, a slot machine and a four thirty dinner special. I’d seen gangsters in L.A. with less aggression.
We left the car parked out front while we went inside to check in, the front desk attended by only a couple of staff.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, looking over at the bright-eyed brunette finishing up with a guest.
“What?” Dave whispered back, his eyes scanning the area for the source of my irritation.
“The woman behind the counter. She’s like my father’s cousin’s daughter.” I tried to mentally calculate the family connection. Was that second cousin? Third? Ugh. Related was enough. “And she has a big mouth.” I did my best to explain while not making direct eye contact and keeping my voice low. “No, don’t look.” I yanked on his arm trying to stop him from turning toward her.
I assumed over the course of the next few days we’d see people from my past. And I’d been prepared for that; I’d just not planned on it happening so fast. And knowing someone at the hotel added drama we didn’t need, especially someone who had a mouth on her like Darla.
“Oh my goodness,” she squealed from behind the counter, the guest she’d been helping disappearing. Lucky us—her attention was all ours. “Jessica Dawson, how wonderful to see you. You must be here for Lana’s wedding. Oh, she is going to make the most amazing bride.” Her eyes flicked over to Dave, her smile getting wider. “And hello to you too.”
While Darla was friendly, she wasn’t flirting. Or at least, I didn’t think she was flirting. That enthusiastic smile of hers was hard to read, but I assumed it was her eagerness to gain information. Gossip, which she could later disperse to the family and town folk who reveled in that shit.
Or she could be flirting.
I wasn’t sure which I preferred.
“Darla. How nice to see you,” I lied, stepping forward and holding out my hand. It felt too formal, but reaching across and hugging her wasn’t happening, so a handshake was the best she was getting.
“The pleasure’s mine.” She grinned, accepting my hand as she looked between Dave and I waiting for an introduction. “And who might you be?” she asked with a giggle, her eyes spending a little too much time lingering over his chest.
Flirting. She’d been flirting.
“This is Dave.” My hand moved from my side to rest possessively on the chest she’d yet to stop staring at. “He’s my boyfriend.”
Her eyes and smile widened as she focused on me. “Well, how wonderful.” Her taffy-laced voice rose an octave. “I’m Darla.” She threw out her hand more enthusiastically than she had with me and offered it to him. “I’m Jessica’s cousin.”
Despite the complexity of our family tree, she declared she was kin with such pride, making it sound like we’d been tight when really we hadn’t.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you.” Dave took her hand, bewitching her with his charming smile.
It was a quick shake, extracting his hand and then placing it around my waist. He pulled me in tighter, dropping a soft kiss on the top of my head. “It’s a real treat for me to be able to meet Jessica’s family, especially when she has met most of mine.”
That was not a lie.
With three of the Larsson brothers all signed with Levin Murphy, I’d had the chance to meet not only Nick and Eric, but also the other two non-acting brothers, Roman and Alex. I’d even seen Dave’s mother and father at one of Eric’s premieres and spoken to Eric’s wife. Not that I’d say any of us were BFFs, but I could pick them out of a lineup and have an easy conversation with most of them.
“Well, honey,” I squeezed him back, deciding if I had to suffer a pet name so could he. “It’s a little hard when we live in L.A. and all my family live out here.”
Darla’s eyes lit up with a mischief I was positive I wanted no part of. “But you’re here now. And I can’t remember the last time you brought a guy home.” She focused back on Dave. “I’m sure everyone is going to want to meet you.”
Or at least they would as soon as she got on the phone and gave everyone her detailed report. The FBI had nothing on her; I was positive there would be people in Arkansas who’d be hearing soon too.
“Great.” I forced another fake smile, the moment hanging between us in an awkward silence. “So, we’re checking in.”
Darla caught herself, giggling before waving her hand. “Yes, of course, of course. Let me get you guys situated.” Her busy fingers tapped on the keyboard.
“Oh.” She stopped mid stroke. “So, we have you down for a double with two queen beds, is that right?” She looked over at me with renewed interest.
Shit
While I had agreed
Dave and I would share a room, sharing a bed was not even a consideration. How could I even sleep while his big body was within touching distance? It was waaaaaaay too much temptation.
I shrugged, playing it off like it was no big deal. “I booked the room online, I didn’t really look and we’re happy to take whatever.”
“Nonsense.” She waved her hand again before returning back to her computer. “We have plenty of king rooms free. Actually.” She looked at her co-worker who was distracted with his own customer. “I have a suite available, let me upgrade you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I tried to argue. “I wouldn’t want to get you into any trouble.”
I didn’t give a rat’s ass what kind of trouble she’d get into, but Dave and I sleeping in the same bed hadn’t been part of the plan.
“It’s no trouble. We’re family. Just give me one second.” She threw off the argument and continued with her tap-tap. “All done. Let me just get your key.”
With efficiency I couldn’t help but admire, she had swiped my card, gotten our paperwork ready to sign and produced a couple of keycards for us. She even arranged for the Mustang still parked out front to be moved to the garage at no extra cost, a bellboy instructed to bring up our luggage to the suite.
As we waved goodbye I was positive her plan was to stop and interrogate us later when she had proper time to dedicate to the cause. Then I’d have to regurgitate the story we’d concocted of how we’d come to be. She would sit on the edge of her seat, mentally taking notes, while asking twenty questions like a Louisianan version of Ann Curry.
And Lord knows she had easy access; she’d given me my room number for God’s sake. So I had that added stress for the next four days too, the risk of seeing her more than just a slim possibility. At least thinking about Darla and her potential unannounced visits kept my mind off our new sleeping arrangements. Dave hadn’t said anything about it so I was trying to play it cool. Besides, it was a king. We could lie beside each other and still have room between us.
As Dave shut the door of our suite, he looked over at me with an amused look on his face. “Well, that was interesting. Was that the southern hospitality I’ve heard so much about?”
“No.” I shook my head. “That was her gathering currency to spend later. She likes to trade secrets for favors. Her sister, Marla, is worse.”
He laughed, his eyes lighting up with animation. “Darla and Marla? Seriously, who’d do that to their kids?”
“It’s a thing. Not a good one, but a thing nonetheless. My mom and her sisters all have Ann in their names,” I said before glancing across to the bedroom, the corner of our bed just visible from my vantage point. “So, I guess we’re sleeping together.”
“That bother you?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly not bothered himself.
There weren’t a lot of women who would be disappointed sleeping beside Dave Larsson, and it was more than his good looks.
He was respectful and kind, and was the last person I could imagine taking advantage of a situation. If anything, he was the one I worried about, people seeing his easy going, trusting nature, and using it for their own benefit.
“No, as long as you’re okay with it, but I already feel like I’m asking a lot.”
“Relax, it’s just a job, right? Think of our time in the hotel room as our rehearsal, building the chemistry.” He strolled over and looked into my eyes. “Trust me, Jess. By the time this weekend is over there won’t be a single doubt we’re desperately in love.”
His words made my stomach flutter, my skin tingle without even being touched. “Oh, you are good,” my smile automatic. “I think everyone else is going to fall in love with you too.”
“Good.” He wrapped his hands around my waist. “Look at me.”
I did, my eyes snapped up to his on command like I didn’t have a choice.
“From the detailed itinerary you sent me, we have dinner in an hour.”
“Yes.” I nodded slowly. It was our first big test and one I wasn’t looking forward to.
“Now, don’t freak out and don’t hit me this time. I’m going to kiss you.”
Was he kidding?
I’d been dying for a chance to kiss him again, only stopping it from happening because I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t want to seem over eager and fuse my lips to his throat like a deviant, so he was right to tell me not to freak out.
“Okay,” I said, surprising myself with my calm. “Do you want to do it right now?”
Why the hell was I asking him? He wanted to kiss me, I wanted to kiss him—albeit for different reasons I’m sure—so we should kiss.
Now.
Before he had any stupid ideas like waiting until later, or even worse—never.
After all, we weren’t going to have to deep throat each other in front of my parents. He could very politely kiss me on the forehead and cheek like a gentleman and earn a bucket load of ohhing and ahhing. But if he wanted to authenticate it, then I commended his commitment to the cause.
His eyes fell to my mouth, my tongue automatically sliding across my lips like they’d been preprogramed with his visual cue. My body was more than willing for it, even if it was under false pretenses.
“Yes, now,” he responded, pulling me closer while his eyes moved to mine. “Consider it an icebreaker.”
He lowered his mouth and brushed it gently against my lips, the barest of touches that had me questioning whether it even happened. And as I opened my mouth, ready to ask exactly that, he brought his back in rush that almost knocked me off my feet.
It was like being in a dark tunnel, in silence, as slowly the rumbled vibrations of a train started to build. And before you knew it, those rumbles were shaking your whole body, consuming you with the noise and excitement that you couldn’t out run if you tried.
It was a perfect first kiss. The kind you would write about in your journal if you were that way inclined—which I wasn’t. So instead I would catalogue it and compare it to every other first kiss I’d had.
With the right amount of tongue and pressure, it wasn’t so much an invasion as it was an occupation. Like a general from a visiting army who’d been invited in and decided he didn’t want to leave for a while. And I had rolled out the welcome mat, giving him full access.
His hands slid lower, skimming the edges of suggestion as he pulled me closer and deepened his intentions with his mouth.
Holy hell, the man could kiss.
My hands rose completely of their own accord and threaded through his hair as my lips stayed melded against him.
Anyone watching us would have believed we were into it.
Hell, I didn’t know where he sat on the issue, but I was into it.
And then just as suddenly, he pulled away, keeping his hands on me as he smiled. “You didn’t hit me this time.”
“No, no I didn’t.” My head nodded, and then shook, not sure which was more appropriate while tingles moved through my body as I took a step back.
I knew it was pretend.
I knew it meant nothing.
But right now, I was happy to live in that fantasy.
“SO, WE MET AT WORK. Let’s not over complicate things.” I sat in the passenger side, my fingers knotted in my lap.
The agreement when we left the airport was that he could drive next, which meant it was him who got to be behind the wheel after we left the hotel.
We’d been over our backstory a million times, but the closer we got to my parents’ house, the greater I felt the need for us to go over it again.
“I know, Jess. We stick to as much of the truth as we can.” He gave me a sideways glance taking his eyes off the road briefly as he kept driving.
I’m glad he was confident, because I had left my self-assurance back in L.A. In my head there were a million reasons to panic, most of them ending up with someone in my family discovering my sham and outing me for the fraud that I was. It had been easier to believe we could pull it off when it was just a hypothetical. O
r when I’d been under his spell in the hotel room and he was kissing me. His mouth was magic, able to dissolve panic and educe calmness with a single press of his lips. Like kryptonite but in reverse.
Maybe we should do that again?
Purely for research purposes.
Science was important and I’d happily give my lips up for the cause. That I might enjoy it, well . . . that was just a bonus.
“And try and steer clear of mentioning your brother, Eric. Hopefully they won’t make the connection.”
I had effectively avoided the topic of Dave’s last name up until this point. Because I knew it was only a matter of time before they’d take that information and do some old fashioned digging. You know the kind, ask the Sherriff for a favor and run his name through the system to make sure he didn’t have any outstanding warrants or a wife he’d abandoned in Albuquerque.
And while it made sense just to give him a fake last name—considering everything else about us was—I was worried the pesky detail would be the one thing that would undo us. Too many loose ends would be the rope that I’d probably hang myself with. Ironic that I was more concerned about them finding out he had a famous older brother than me paying him to be with me.
“If they ask, we segue into something, or say you’re related and leave it at that. They don’t have to know how closely related you are. There could be a million Larssons in the United States. Or it could be a stage name,” I rattled off nervously, wondering if it was too late to drive to Baton Rouge and find a guy I knew named Catfish who made fake IDs. It wouldn’t stand up to real scrutiny, but I’d take the risk if I thought it would help.
He laughed, his hand casually resting on the wheel. “You know that person you emailed all that stuff to was me, right? Like literally all these things have been discussed.”
“I know, but we need to be prepared.” I white-knuckled the car door in an effort to stop wringing my hands in my lap. “My mother has built-in radar, and we need to have our story tight if we want to get anything past her.”
