Fake Fiancé Next Door_A Small Town Romance

by Piper Sullivan

  “You’ve got a deal, babe. Our reservation is in thirty minutes, but we’re meeting someone at the bar.”

  “We are? I thought this was a date.”

  “It is, but this is to tell you that I love you and I hear you, and I understand.”

  His words made no sense, at least not until we entered the shoebox bar area and I saw none other than Frank Phillips at the bar sipping a Manhattan. “Kenzi, Chase, so glad you could make it.”

  I didn’t quite understand how my date had turned into a business meeting, but now I felt uneasy. “Mr. Phillips, what are you doing here?”

  “Well I thought about what you said, so I bought some of your products. They’re damn good.” He flashed a look over at Chase, who joined a pretty blond I assumed was Mrs. Phillips, at the other end of the bar.

  “I’m glad you liked them. I don’t know what Chase said to you, but-,”

  “Let me tell you a secret Ms. O’Brien.” His eyes gleamed with amusement and I leaned forward, intrigued. “While I am a God fearing man, the truth is a woman made very nasty accusations against me so I just don’t meet with single women. But what you said about the kind of people you do business with, it struck me.”

  “Oh, well, thank you. I appreciate that.”

  “That’s all I wanted to say. Call and set up a meeting when you’re ready.”

  Stunned, I nodded as I watched him join his wife and kiss her cheek, his eyes still shining with love after all these years. I wanted that and I wanted it with the man laughing along with the happy couple.

  I just had to muster up the courage to go after him.

  “That was a really nice thing you did, Chase.” And watching the pink stain on his cheeks heat up only made me love him more. “I wasn’t sure I still wanted to work with him, but the decision is mine.”

  “I want you to see, to believe that I’m someone you can rely on. I want to be here for you, I will be, Kenzi. Always.”

  Those were nice words and my heart gobbled them up faster than Chase knocked back the samosas. “I want to believe you,” I told him because it was true. Mostly. The full truth was that my heart was all the way on board but my brain was urging a bit of circumspection and given the events of the past couple weeks, I was Team Brain right now.

  “But I haven’t given you a reason to, I know. But I will.”

  “Was that what the Frank Phillips thing was about?” Because the only thing that would be worse than Chase walking away again was if he did it all out of some misplaced sense of obligation.

  “No,” he sat back and finished chewing his samosa. “You always supported me, going back to when we were kids. You told me to go travel the world, soak up the experience I so desperately craved back then. No one else knew about my dreams back then, not until I left after our night together.”

  “I just wish you would have woken me up, told me about your big opportunity. I would have been happy for you and maybe I would have been left with good memories of that night.” As I said the words and thought about that night, though, I wasn’t angry anymore. I’ll probably always think about that night with bittersweet memories. But I was healing and forgiving and shit, so I felt better.

  “I wish I could give that night back to you, do it over somehow.” He seemed so genuine, his blue eyes tormented yet determined.

  “Yeah well, I’m not the first girl to wish her first time had gone differently.” The shock on his face told me something I had long suspected. He had no idea of my virgin status before that night.

  “Shit.” He leaned forward, a predatory smile on his face. “Then I’m determined to spend the rest of our lives making up for that night.” His gaze held a promise I was desperate for him to keep.

  “That sounds promising.” My voice was a husky purr as desire grabbed a hold of me, held me in her firm grip. Luckily the waiter chose that moment to appear with our food, or else I might have done something silly like jump in his lap and beg him to take me.

  The table filled with several dishes including butter chicken, lamb vindaloo and some lentil dish Chase insisted would change my world. “We’re going to have plenty of leftovers,” he said, eyes huge and excited. “Or it will allow us to refuel later. Quickly.”

  We ate in silence for a few minutes, letting the flavors settle on our tongues. It was all so good and flavorful, I wanted to forget that I was sitting across from the man I loved and just inhale everything. “Oh, that is delicious.”

  His laugh was low and deep, full of amusement. “I do love a woman who enjoys good food.”

  He said it again and again. Chase Donovan loved me. Was in love with me. The words rolled off his tongue so easily that I was starting to believe them. “You do? So, if I ordered a salad right now?”

  He grinned playfully. “I’d still love you, but I would secretly judge you.”

  “I think I’m okay with that,” I told him honestly, because being loved by Chase, I had a feeling, would be incredible. The air between us changed, crackled with the intensity of the electricity arcing between us. It was time. “Chase,” I began.

  “Kenzi,” he started at the same time. “You can go first.”

  Oh good because I wasn’t nervous or anything. At all. “Thanks.” I knew what I wanted to say, but not how to say it. “When you left the first time it hurt, but I knew you would leave eventually to go to college or see the world. It was the leaving without a word that really upset me.”

  “I should have done plenty of things differently.”

  I nodded my agreement and kept going. “This time though, it hurt more because loving you and having you walk away? Well, it pretty much sucks.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Is it wrong that I’m glad you were as miserable without me as I was without you?”

  An affectionate smile curved my lips. “It is, but I feel the same way so I guess we can be bad together.”

  Chase sat back and relaxed, kicking his feet up on the booth beside me with a wide grin on his face. “I like what I’m hearing so far.”

  We sat there for several long minutes just staring at each other with goofy smiles on our face. This was it, my moment to go after this beautiful, intelligent, funny man, and make him mine. “I love you, Chase.”

  He froze, eyes wide as his fork clattered to his plate. “Say it again.”

  “I love you, Chase. I have since about the ninth grade so I figured it was time that I let you in on the secret.” He smiled and leaned in, grabbing my hands in his.

  “So now that you’re head over heels in love with me,” he began with a laughing smile.

  “I don’t think that’s what I said.”

  “Maybe not,” he shrugged, “but we all know that’s what you meant.” He straightened and pretended to turn his laughing expression serious. “As I was saying, now that you’ve admitted to being head over heels in love with me, how about we make this fake engagement real?”

  It took a long moment for his words to sink in but when I looked down at his open hand, a white gold lotus flower setting showed off a winking diamond with sparkling emerald petals on either side. “Chase!” I gasped and covered my mouth but the tears couldn’t be hidden. “Are you serious?”

  “Damn right I am sweetheart. I love you. Hell, I love everything about you. You’re sweet and sexy and sassy, but you’re a hard worker, you don’t take shit from anyone and you are so kind to everyone, even when they don’t deserve it.” He sighed, sliding the ring on my left finger before he brushed a kiss on each of my knuckles. “You’re too damn good for me, Kenzi. You always were. But I love you Kenz and I want you to be more than my friend. I want you to be my wife, the mother of my children, my partner in life. Lord knows we’ll need it in this crazy little town.”

  I had to laugh because he was so right. “You know we’ll be the talk of Truly for at least the next decade, right?”

  “As long as you’re by my side, Kenz, they can talk about us forever.” His lips brushed the inside of my hand and up to my wrist, m
aking me shiver as tears trekked down my face. “Kenzi Rainbow O’Brien, will you stand up with me in front of our insane friends and family and promise to love me?”

  “Yes,” she grinned.

  “To cherish me?”

  “Definitely.”

  “To lean on me when you need me?”

  “As long as you promise to do the same,” my smile grew impossibly wider at the twinkle in his eyes.

  “To let me love up on you whenever the mood strikes?”

  “Always. I can’t wait to be your wife, Chase.”

  “Good,” he growled and in two quick moves he was seated beside me, one hand on my thigh, the other sifting through my hair. “Because I can’t wait to be married to you either.” His lips brushed my neck while his hand stroke the soft skin of my leg. “Can we get out of here yet?”

  I laughed and moved his hand away. “I call dibs on the vindaloo during the first re-fuel.”

  His look darkened a second before his lips crashed down on mine, a flash fire of a kiss, short but hot. “I love you enough to cede the vindaloo.”

  “Then we’ve got a pretty good shot at forever.” And to me, that sounded truly perfect.

  The End

  Sneak Peek: Knocked Up By My Best Friend

  Sylvie

  “We the jury,” the juror, in the khaki version of ‘mom jeans’ began, wringing every ounce of drama from the moment as cameras flashed, “in the above impaneled action.” Another long pause for dramatic effect. “Find Marcos Antoni not guilty on all counts.” She sent a kitten smile with a little side eye to the cameras located behind the defense and prosecution tables.

  I turned to Marco with a satisfied smile. He’d been skeptical of my courtroom skills due to my age and gender, and now he was grateful.

  “Congratulations.”

  He grinned wide and wrapped his arms around me, smothering me in expensive cologne. Too damn much of it. “Thank you, Sylvie. My assistant is wiring a retainer to your firm as we speak.”

  Of course he was. The man had been facing more than one hundred years in prison and now he was free. I was his best friend.

  “That’s good to hear, because I have some things I’d like to discuss with you. Not now though, I’ve got somewhere to be.”

  “Hot date?”

  I laughed because Marcos had been flirting with me—outrageously so, I might add—since he brushed off the senior partner on his case in favor of the curvy redhead who’d nearly broken his finger in the elevator for grabbing her ass. Namely, moi.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Most definitely. I’d love to learn what I need to do to get a date with you.”

  And that was my problem in a nutshell. Aside from the whole side job as a drug kingpin, Marcos was a catch. Handsome, rich and well-connected. Not to mention charming as hell. But even he didn’t get my motor running. “I’m off to catch up with my best friend.” After another lingering hug, he let me go and I practically skipped out of the courthouse.

  “Good job today, Porter.”

  Darn it! I was so close. Fixing a smile on my face, I turned to Paul Nelson. The senior partner Marcos skipped over for me.

  “Thank you, Paul. A win is a win.”

  “Right. Well don’t think this is going to let you skip the line to senior partner.”

  I didn’t bother telling him that I’d be making some big changes in my life very soon. Instead, I smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Paul. I’m sure we’ll both do what we have to do for our careers. Have a good weekend.” What a pompous asshole. He was one of those guys who thought women belonged in the kitchen, in the secretarial pool, or on their knees.

  Never in my life did I think I would be happy driving down the I-10 East with the windows down on my brand new electric BMW i3, but I did. I felt relieved as the stress lifted off my shoulders in stages. I had been burning the candle at both ends for the past few months, preparing for the trial that ended today. Months of prep and then the trial had stolen pretty much all of my energy. But I won, and that’s what mattered to me, the client and the firm. The truth was, Marcos Antoni was both a businessman and a kingpin. But I’m a damn good attorney. He was able to go back to his wife and kids—or his mistress and kids—a free man.

  I should be happy about it. But truthfully, the buzz from the not guilty verdict had lasted about twenty minutes. Then I just felt…empty. It was a feeling I’d encountered a lot lately. Starting about a fourteen months ago I began to feel restless. Unsatisfied, no dissatisfied with my life. I was ready for something more. But more of what exactly? That had eluded me.

  Until I figured it out.

  Family. That’s what I wanted more than anything. A baby. A child of my very own to hold and kiss, to love and teach. Since I had proven to be shit at relationships, I decided to skip the husband and marriage route to my happy ending, and jump right to the baby part. That was part of the reason I was dealing with rush hour traffic on a Friday afternoon to make it to Indian Wells in time to see my best friend defend his title for the fourth year in a row.

  Brady and I had grown up together in Almond Valley, our mothers still lived there. We spent our entire lives there, mostly unaware of each other and then, at the age of ten we became friends when he stepped in to save a smaller kid from a bully and got a fist to the belly for his efforts. I had rushed in and socked the bully, and Brady invited me over for cookies and milk. We were inseparable after that. While I was in law school, he had become the biggest thing in the world of tennis, and more than a decade later, he still was. And we were still best friends, though we didn’t get to spend as much time together as either of us liked. Long weekends like this one were a gift for both of us. I just hoped that my gigantic little favor didn’t ruin it.

  How did a girl ask her best friend to give her a baby, anyway?

  Brady

  That semi-final match had kicked my ass, but the post-match press conference was not the place to say that. I had won, after all.

  “It was a long match and Dmitry gave a damn good fight, but sometimes experience trumps youth.” I smiled even though I wanted to fucking punch that guy in his throat. So what, Dmitry was a decade younger than me. Big fucking deal. But all the press wanted to talk about was how a guy my age could be such a competitor on the tour. Hell, Roger Federer was older than me and he was still the best.

  But I wore my trademark grin as I answered question after question, each one honing in on my age. “I don’t think age has much to do with it. Sure, he’s got great stamina, but I have a great serve and my drop shot was on point today. He played good, but tonight, I played better.”

  That’s what every match came down to and I worked hard to make sure I always played better.

  “And how do you plan to approach the final match against Sanchez? He beat you the last time you played in Paris.”

  I grinned at the question, meant to goad me into a reaction. To become the bad boy of tennis they’d always tried to make me out to be. Okay so maybe I was a bit reckless. But only when I wanted to be. I was nobody’s damn circus monkey.

  “Yes, but I beat him the fourteen times before that.” They laughed as I meant them to. “His game has improved this year though, so I guess you’ll have to show up on Sunday if you want to know how it all plays out.” I stood and waved, the universal sign that the press conference was over.

  They were always required and they never got any easier, especially when you were supposed to be poised and calm just minutes after the match ended. But they were a necessary evil, and by the time I left the press room, it was all behind me. The long tunnel that led out of the gardens and to the parking lot was barely lit, but halfway to the end I spotted a figure. The person was tall, and as I drew closer I realized, female. She wore a silky top that hung loose except where it clung to a set of incredible tits. And when the woman turned and the light shone on her red hair, I sucked in a breath and stumbled.

  Sylvie. How in the hell had I not recognized my best
girl? Hell, the best person I knew? I couldn’t believe it considering how much those curves had tempted me throughout high school. And beyond. We’d never gone there, but I knew we were aware of each other beyond the closeness of lifelong friends. But there was an unspoken agreement between us that our friendship was more important. But in that moment, when I hadn’t recognized her, the want and the need had been visceral. Instinctive.

  “Brady!”

  She drew closer and closer, finally crashing into me as she wrapped her arms tight around my neck and squeezed. Fuck she felt good in my arms, and not just because she was a hot woman, but because I hadn’t seen her since she’d surprised me in New York at the US Open. I always put her name on the list for my box, no matter where I went on the planet, and she often showed up.

  But when I’d looked up last September and saw her sitting there, sandwiched between Ma and my twin sisters, I’d smiled and waved. And then went on to win my eighth grand slam.

  “Looking good hot stuff!” She laughed her throaty laugh and pulled back, examining me carefully. “God it is so good to you in person.” She hugged me again, touched my face and shoulders and I flashed a sheepish smile at one of the passing coaches.

  “You too, Syl. You’re looking so hot, I almost hit on you.” She smacked my arm and rolled her eyes before pulling me close and looping her arm through mine. “I’m happy you’re here. Let’s go eat.”

  She drove while I directed her to a small seafood restaurant with good food and a quiet table where we were only bothered by a few autograph seekers. “You played well tonight. The crowd was out of control! Your drop shot is so soft now. Sanchez better watch out.”

  I grinned. You’d think I would be used to having women tell me how great I am, and I was. But it was always different with Sylvie, because she wasn’t blowing smoke. She was always a straight shooter. It was an honest assessment of my game.

  “Well, thanks babe.”

  Glittering green eyes rolled skyward, but her affectionate smile was still in place. “Yeah, you’re welcome. But your serve is drifting wide on the toss and you’re losing speed.”