Weekend Wife: A Fake Fiancée Romantic Comedy Standalone

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Weekend Wife: A Fake Fiancée Romantic Comedy Standalone Page 17

by Erin McCarthy


  That made a whole lot of sense to me. “I think that’s fantastic that you get to do what you love.” If you could get it, go for it. That was my feeling on that. Wealth had given Grant the second options most people didn’t have.

  I had to wonder if Grant the second did anything for charitable causes or contributed to the world in any way, but I wasn’t about to ask him.

  “So why can’t you? Eddie can give you that—the opportunity to do what you want.”

  His father’s words made my throat tighten. “Because that’s the problem. I don’t want anyone to give it to me. I want to do it on my own.”

  “Say you had a friend who said, ‘Leah, I know the producer for a record label and I can send him your demo.’ Wouldn’t you jump on that chance? It’s called an opportunity.”

  “It’s just different.” I wanted out of this conversation. I didn’t actually mind Grant’s father and he didn’t seem like he had ill intentions but he’d never been anything but wealthy. He didn’t seem to understand why it mattered to me to take care of myself, especially after eight years of busting my butt in the city. “I don’t need anyone to pay my rent. I’ve been paying it on my own just fine for years.”

  Grant’s father was giving me very real anxiety and I wasn’t even sure why. It wasn’t like he was being a jerk. He was just being opinionated, which wasn’t shocking for a man who’d had everything he ever wanted. Of course, he assumed he was right.

  But I felt an intense panic rising inside my chest. It felt like serious indigestion coupled with an inability to breathe. I took a massive sip of my wine.

  I’d spent the afternoon feeling like I’d scored a huge win. The fake relationship wasn’t really fake and that was exactly what I wanted, whether I had been able to admit it to myself or not.

  Now this conversation had me terrified that I was plunging witlessly into a disaster. I didn’t belong in this world. It was an act. I was playing the part of rich girlfriend. I couldn’t really be a rich girlfriend, could I? Certainly not a wife.

  “I don’t see how it’s different, but okay, I’ll stop pressing. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just met you, Leah, and I already like you. You’ve got something special about you.”

  “Thank you.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “Last thing I’ll say is if you really plan to get married, you should elope somewhere. Weddings are a pain in the ass.” He pushed off the stones and stood up, the ice in his glass clinking.

  Said the man who was throwing himself a three hundred grand anniversary party.

  I shivered, despite the wool coat I was wearing. I shifted around to the other side of the fireplace, hoping that Grant’s grandmother hadn’t heard a word we’d said. She didn’t appear to be listening at all. She had a massive ash hovering in the air over her cashmere coat in such a dangerous way I wanted to slid my palm under it and catch it. Save the cashmere. Reading glasses with the lenses the size of dinner plates were on her nose and she was studying her phone.

  “Do you think I can get a flight to Paris tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow is my anniversary party, Mother. You can’t go to Paris.”

  Gigi rolled her eyes and took a hit off of her cigarette. “Paris sounds more entertaining.” She studied me with narrowed eyes. “Do you smoke?”

  “No.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  That almost made me laugh.

  “Sit with me anyway. Grant, go away. I want to talk to Eddie’s girlfriend.”

  Oh, fabulous. Just exactly what I wanted. Time alone with the slut-shaming grandmother. I was tempted to grab Grant the second’s arm and beg him not to leave me alone, but I was serious when I told Grant I’d faced down some serious assholes over the years in the industry. I had thick skin.

  “Sure,” I said easily and sat down on the stone wall next to her.

  Grant’s father didn’t protest. He just disappeared back into the restaurant.

  She ashed her cigarette onto the paver stones. Ashes wafted onto her pants but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “What was your name again, dear?”

  “Leah.”

  “And you’re a waitress?”

  I nodded. “Yes. And aspiring singer.”

  “Eddie showed me the video of you singing. You have a lovely voice.”

  “Thank you.” When had Grant done that? Maybe while I’d been in the shower after the pool.

  “I shared it for you.”

  Huh. What did she mean by that? As in she had social media accounts? I guess Gigi was more in tune with modern living than I would have expected. “That was nice of you, thank you.”

  “I want Eddie to be happy. Tiffany was a terrible mother. I never wanted my son to marry her. I think Eddie is smart to pick an ordinary girl like you. You aren’t spoiled.”

  She had a fair point, but she should probably keep her thoughts about my ordinariness to herself. It was a wee bit insulting. But if I expected anyone to keep a thought to themselves, I was in the wrong crowd. Clearly.

  “I am not spoiled, that is true. At the same time, I haven’t exactly suffered either. I had a good childhood thanks to my parents and I’ve managed to make a life for myself in the city.” Which I couldn’t wait to get back to, to be honest. The fresh air couldn’t make up for the eye-rolling factor of the Caldwells.

  Grant appeared, looking like he wanted to kidnap me. I wouldn’t have objected. “Is everything okay out here?” he asked.

  I gave him a reassuring smile. “We’re fine.”

  “Just girl talk, Eddie. Mind your own business.” Gigi tossed her cigarette on the ground and put it out with the heel of her boot. “We’re going back in now so calm your tits.”

  I was so startled I laughed out loud before slapping my hand over my mouth.

  Grant looked less amused than me.

  Gigi stood up and looped her arm through mine. “I could grow fond of you.”

  “I’m pretty irresistible,” I said cheerfully.

  Grant laughed and put his hand on the small of my back. “I’ll attest to that.”

  When we got inside, Grant the second was paying the bill. “You kids can stay if you’d like,” he said. “But Tiff has a migraine.”

  Grant’s mother was lying face-first on the table. I was pretty sure she was drunk given I’d seen her have three vodka sodas and eat absolutely nothing. It was safe to say she probably needed inpatient treatment but I wasn’t about to suggest that to people who seemed to think this was totally acceptable. Part of me felt sorry for Grant’s mother, despite how rude she’d been to me. This was not a happy woman, and frankly, that was sad as hell.

  “Do you want to stay?” Grant said.

  I nodded. “Sure.” A perfectly acceptable excuse to spend time alone without his family there? Sold. “I could go for dessert and coffee.”

  When we were alone and the waiter appeared to clean the various dirty dishes, Grant asked him, “Do you have key lime pie?”

  My insides squeezed. He’d remembered. I’d told him it was my favorite dessert and he had remembered. The man was a dream.

  “No, sir, I’m sorry, we don’t.”

  “Does anywhere in town have it?”

  “I can ask Chef.” The waiter scraped crumbs. “If there is, would you like a slice?”

  “Yes, two, please.” Grant handed the waiter two hundred-dollar bills. “And espresso for the lady.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I liked key lime pie, but I wasn’t sure I liked it two hundred dollars’ worth. But I wasn’t going to complain when Grant was being sweet. I had a feeling he was trying to compensate for his family.

  “Someone wants to get lucky tonight,” I said with a small smile.

  “That’s the plan,” he told me. “Plus, I need to distract you in whatever way I can from the fact that my family is insane.”

  “I think I’m a hit with your father and Gigi. I don’t think your grandfather has an opinion about me. Your mom hates me.”
<
br />   “My mother hates everyone. I’d be scared if she did like you. That would be a clue for me to run far away from you.”

  “That’s a solid point.” We were seated at the end of the table, so we were partially facing each other. I turned my chair a little so I could see him even more directly. “How do we do this?” I asked him softly. “What are we actually doing, Grant?”

  He reached over and took my hand. “We’re getting to know each other even better than we already have. We’re going to go back to the city and we’re going to spend time together, falling in love. The way people do.”

  For a man who had sworn he wasn’t ever going to get married, he was very confident about this being an easy transition to us having a relationship. I wasn’t so sure. “Just like that, huh?”

  “Just like that.” He adjusted his tie. “Though don’t worry, I’ll still give you the agreed-on amount for this weekend. I won’t negate our contract.”

  “You and your legal talk. So sexy. Not.” Though I had to admit I was relieved about the money because I had taken additional days off work to be here. Without the money promised, rent next month would be tricky.

  “I’m being straightforward. I don’t want you to worry.”

  “I appreciate that. But per that contract, this is a sex-free weekend.”

  “I added an addendum.”

  I laughed. “What? When?”

  Grant grinned, his expression smug and naughty as sin. “After you said you don’t read contracts.”

  I gaped at me. “You rotten bastard.”

  “It merely states if you change your mind, you are most welcome to get naked with me. I have no objections.”

  “You’re making that up.”

  “No, I’m not.” He held his hands up. “I swear. You really should read documents, Leah.”

  I would have ripped him a new one except the waiter appeared with my espresso. “The key lime pie is being delivered, Mr. Caldwell. It should be here shortly.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it,” Grant said, without even looking at the waiter. He was staring at me.

  “Thank you,” I said to the waiter, embarrassed. Not only was Grant being mildly dismissive of the waiter, he looked like he wanted me to be dessert.

  I sipped my coffee after the waiter disappeared. “Stop looking at me like that,” I admonished. “We’re still in public.”

  “You don’t strike me as a woman who is that shy.”

  Damn it. He had me there. “Have you had the key lime pie at Blue Heaven in Key West? It’s the best thing ever. I was there five years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve never been there. Do you want to go next weekend?”

  “Sure,” I said, joking, because that’s the way my world worked. Anyone saying that would be joking. Then I realized he was serious. “What? No. I have to work.”

  He shrugged. “Another time, then.”

  That made me uneasy, though I wasn’t sure why.

  The pie appeared in front of us and I picked up the clean fork the waiter had brought, grateful for a distraction. “This is the best gift you’ve ever given me,” I said, putting a bite into my mouth and closing my eyes. “Mm.” I opened my eyes again. “Though the vibrator was thoughtful, I have to admit, but since it wasn’t even your idea, it doesn’t count.”

  Grant didn’t look at all that interested in the dessert. He hadn’t even picked up his fork. “Have you used that vibrator?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

  I paused, his tone turning me on. I felt the force of his words all the way to my inner thighs and the memory flared up of me pleasuring myself, his name on my lips, maybe once or twice after we’d flirted on FaceTime. Okay, three times. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

  Grant sat back with a groan. “You’re killing me.”

  “Let’s say the gesture didn’t go unappreciated,” I said with a smile.

  “Are you done with that pie yet? Because we need to get home.”

  I shook my head and slowly, painstakingly slid my fork through the pie. “Nope. Not even close.” I licked the very tip of the fork in as suggestive a way as I could manage.

  “You clearly want my hand on your ass later, don’t you?”

  Yep. Instant nipple hardening. “What did I do?” I asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just eating my pie.”

  Grant smiled in a way that made me want to forget the dessert and go straight to the nearest mattress. Hell, the nearest wall. Or this table would do.

  “Finish your dessert,” he said. “Then I’ll have mine.”

  I ate two more bites like a squirrel pouching nuts. Shove, tuck, chew. “I think I’m full.”

  I didn’t need the calories anyway.

  What I did need was Grant.

  Chapter 13

  Not wanting to encounter any of my family, I brought Leah into the house through the garage and up the back stairs.

  “I need a tour of this house tomorrow so I can get the lay of the land. I’m afraid I’m going to get lost.”

  I put my finger to my lips as we moved down the hallway upstairs. “Shh. Don’t wake the crazy people.” Dinner had been endless, and then Leah and I had hung out. It was after eleven so I had high hopes everyone was fast asleep in anticipation of the next day’s party.

  Leah gave a soft laugh.

  Did she have any idea what that sound did to me? That for six months I’d been listening to that sound and slowly, steadily, growing addicted to it. That now, after two short weeks of spending time with her and talking to her, that laugh had me by the balls.

  She was mine. The woman who had made me toss aside everything I’d ever thought about my future and go all in.

  When we got to the north bedroom, I pulled her inside and locked the door behind us. I touched the switch on the wall that handled all the lights and turned just one lamp on low. I wanted to see Leah but without blinding either of us.

  I kicked my shoes off and pulled her up against me. “Do you know that you came along and wrecked all of my plans?”

  “That sounds like a country song.”

  “It’s the truth. I’ve spent six months resisting you and then I just fell off a fucking cliff.” I brushed her hair back, stunned at how much I loved her. How much just being near her made me happy. How there was no fear or anger that it might all go to shit or wind up dysfunctional.

  “For the man who told me he’s been accused of holding back emotionally, I have to say I don’t know what you’re talking about. You seem to know what you want.”

  I nodded. “I do. I want you. Here, now. Tomorrow. The day after that. And the day after that.” For the rest of my life.

  “This is crazy, Grant,” she murmured. “Isn’t this crazy?”

  “This isn’t crazy. Crazy is my family. We’re not crazy.” I eased her sweater down off of her shoulders and removed it.

  I was going to toss it on the floor but Leah grabbed it. “Don’t just throw that around. It was expensive.”

  That amused me, since I was the one who had paid for it, but I let her take it and set it on the bench at the foot of the bed. I undid the first button on her soft shirt, and then the second. The edge of her bra appeared and I ran my finger across the seam, and the swell of her breast. I couldn’t get enough of her body. Leah sighed and pushed her hair back off of her shoulders.

  “Take your jacket off,” she said. “It’s my turn to undo some buttons.”

  I was wearing a sport jacket with matching pants and a white shirt without a tie. “Be my guest.” I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it on top of hers. I turned back and raised my hands. “I won’t stop you.”

  Lea gave me a smirk. “You don’t exactly seem like a submissive guy.”

  “Not even fucking close. I’m choosing to give you what you want.”

  She undid the top bottom. “That’s my boss man. Totally in charge.” She flicked open another button.

  I pulled the shirt out of my pants and then re
ached out to undo another of her buttons. Our speed increased but my fingers fumbled with the small delicate ivory buttons. “I’m tempted to just rip this shirt off of you.”

  “Don’t you dare. This shirt is too beautiful to destroy.”

  “I like it better when you’re in a sweatshirt and leggings. You don’t object to my roughness.”

  “Shh, don’t be a brat.” She had my shirt undone fully and pulled it apart, slipping her hands inside and running them over my chest.

  “A brat, huh?” I took her hands and pulled them down. “My turn.”

  Her breath caught and she bit her bottom lip in a way that had my cock hardening instantly. And she knew it would.

  I finished undoing the final button and slipped her shirt off. She had on an ivory lace bra that showed off her tits to total perfection. Cupping them both, I teased my thumbs over her nipple. I loved that sound she made—a hitching of her breath whenever I made initial contact with her body. She was comfortable in her skin and her confidence was such a huge turn-on.

  I studied the smoothness of her flesh, rising above the lace, as I worked the taut buds. In the lamplight her skin glowed, and I found a birthmark I’d never noticed before where her shoulder rounded to the graceful length of her neck. It was a little mocha-colored patch and I flicked my tongue over it, wanting to know every inch of her. Taste everything. Her fingers were looped into my belt, and tightened as I kissed up over her clavicle bone and into the hollow of her neck. I could feel the pulsing of her vein, and hear the shallowness of her breathing close to my ear.

  Everything had changed.

  Everything.

  My life, my future. My understanding of who I was and what I wanted.

  The intimacy of being with her was foreign, but it took my breath away. I brushed her hair back off her shoulder, sweeping from her temple down to the ends. Her dark eyes were wide, open, caring. I wanted to tell her that I loved her, but the words caught in my throat, choking me. I didn’t want to ruin the moment in any way and those were words I hadn’t spoken to a single living soul in a decade.

 

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