And I realize I’m not worried. I know May won’t let Grace get hurt. It’s evident in her posture, in the easy way Grace leans back into her, trusting her with every motion.
“Rinse it with cold water,” I say and two sets of eyes meet me. Grace’s brown eyes are excited and happy as she sees me. May’s eyes are wide, troubled, yet wildly beautiful.
“Daddy!” Grace launches herself at me and I open my arms to catch her. With my arms around her, the world is suddenly okay again. I missed her more than I could ever imagine missing anyone.
My eyes meet May’s and I see something there. Perhaps it’s disappointment. But why? Because I asked her to be my fake fiancée?
Maybe I should talk to her.
“We’re about done with dinner prep,” May says, returning to cutting onion as I set Grace on her feet.
“Are you going to help?” Grace asks me and I look at May, who is ignoring me. Still, I can see her pulse in her soft throat and it’s much too quick. Perhaps the little miss is excited at the thought? My cock stirs but I tamp down those thoughts.
Gathering my thoughts, I ask, “Sure. What can I do?”
Grace lights up. But May shuts me down. “I think I’ve got this. Why don’t you two go catch up?” Grace nods, and I know she’s not sensing the tension mounting between May and I. But as my daughter takes my hand and leads me into the living room, I remember there’s something I wanted to talk to her about.
We sit on the couch and I start in quick. “Was Gertie hitting you?” I ask. Grace’s face falls a little and I hope that this betrayal of trust doesn’t come back on May.
“Yes,” Grace says, her face so very embarrassed I want to hug her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask gently. I don’t want her to think she’s in trouble, but I need to know why she didn’t trust me enough to come to me with this.
Her eyes find the floor and it’s all I can do not to tilt her chin up to look me in the eyes. “She tells me I’m not a lady.”
“Oh baby,” I say, gathering her into a hug. “You don’t have to be. You just have to be the best you you can be, okay?” I say, looking deep into her eyes as if I can convey the truth of my words.
“Promise?” she says, and I cross my finger over my heart.
She smiles and the cute expression lifts my heart. Everything in the world is better with her right here. And even the ugly moments manage to bring in good.
“Dinner,” May says, peeking her head in.
“Thank you,” I say as Grace bolts from my arms and into May’s grasp. I look at the two of them looking so much like a family it aches deep in the very depths of my soul. This is what I want for Grace. But it’s too much to ask of any woman. Even one as amazing as May.
“She’s asleep,” I say, a finger to my lips as I sneak out of Grace’s room and close the door behind me.
“She’s a light sleeper,” May says, a knowing look on her face. I nod in agreement and take her hand. Her skin is shockingly soft between my rough fingers as I lead her toward the front door. Still, it feels good to hold her like this. It feels right.
On the porch, we sit side by side on the swing. I notice the scent of her, sweet and floral. Her shining brown hair is bound up loosely, as if it wants nothing more than to escape. A few tendrils have and frame her face and cling to her neck in the fading heat of the Texas day.
“I need more time to think about it,” she says, and I nod. I didn’t expect a quick answer. It’s a huge favor.
“Did you have questions?” I ask, dreading the questions.
“Why?” she says, looking sideways at me as if she’s afraid to fully face me. I think a moment, trying to figure out the best way to tell her.
So I give her a short, sweet version. “My father and I don’t get along so well. He needs me to prove I’m a family man before he’ll really trust me.” It’s the reader’s digest version, but it’s not a lie. Her silence leaves me feeling like she’s thinking it over.
“But you are a family man,” she says finally, her voice filled with a sweet confusion. “You’re an amazing dad. All Grace does all day is sing your praises.”
“He means family man as in married man.” The words sting, even now, and I hate them as I spit them out like something bitter and vile I can expel.
She is quiet again and I look at her. There’s a far way look in her eyes as she stares toward her car.
“You don’t have to,” I say, needing her to know I’m not giving her an ultimatum. “You’re fully welcome to stay on as Grace’s caregiver for as long as you’re willing. She really likes you. And if you were to leave, I’d be in a bind.” As I think about it, the thought of her leaving fills me with something akin to fear.
Still, she’s silent, and we stare out at the stars side by side as a gentle night wind cools us.
May
He’s quiet beside me. But it’s not a scary silence. It’s not one I feel I have to fill. He’s made himself clear. But not in a threatening way. I don’t’ feel pressured or guilty. And he alleviated my fear that it might change my being here if I decide not to. But still… what if his parents recognize me?
“I’d still like time to think about it,” I say and he nods in agreement.
“Take all the time you need,” he says, and I feel a curious warmth pooling in my belly.
Here, under the stars with him, I feel… safe.
“There’s something else,” he says, and my heart begins to pound as I glance at him and see a new intensity behind those warm brown eyes.
“Yes?” I ask, feeling breathless. His eyes study my face as he speaks.
“I need to know you’re safe here while I’m gone. Do you know how to shoot?” he asks, and I shake my head no. My father thought a lady had no place holding a gun or doing man’s work. I was there to cook, clean, and be pretty.
“I’ll teach you tomorrow. The shotgun over the door is real, and it’s loaded. Don’t aim it at someone unless you plan to pull the trigger,” he says, his voice so serious a shiver runs down my spine.
My own demons rear up, but I push them back to ask, “Do you get much trouble out here?”
He shakes his head. “But it’s a good idea for you to be able to protect yourself and Grace.”
I nod, fully agreeing with him. It would be a good piece of mind to be able to handle a gun. Not that I think I could ever pull the trigger. Not even on…
“What are you thinking about right now?” he asks, and I realize tears are beginning to fill my eyes.
“No one important,” I say, and realize I’ve slipped up. I glance at him in horror that I’ve let slip that it’s someone, not something.
But he doesn’t push it. The feeling is there, though, that I can come to him, talk to him, confide in him. And it’s an amazing sensation. I hadn’t come here with the hope that I’d be able to trust a man ever again, much less so soon after arriving.
Something about Clint… maybe it’s our past, our history. Sure he’s not who I remember, but he’s just a more grown up version of who he had been.
“You know,” he says, not looking at me. I notice his face tighten up as he looks up at the stars. His jaw flexes like he’s clenching down against something unpleasant. “I feel like I’ve known you forever. Odd, huh?” he smiles at me, but his expression is strained. My pulse begins to thump softly against my collar bone and I struggle for words to say.
But no words come.
“I’m going to head to bed,” I say after a silence takes over us.
“Have a good night,” he says. As I rise and walk toward the door, his hand once more finds mine. And like the first time, it feels like I’ve touched an electric fence. A tingle and warmth that’s unexpected travels from his touch up my arm and straight to my heart as I look down at him.
“Thank you,” he says, his expression warm and his eyes filled with genuine gratitude. “For everything.”
I can only smile at him, feeling bad for the deceit I’m guilty of.
> “Miss.”
I smile at the man who’d interrupted me that first day. Now that he’s just standing in the kitchen and I’m pouring a glass of orange juice after having just seen Grace off to school, I decide to introduce myself. He seems like he’s the second in command. I’m just guessing based on how he interacts with Clint and the men.
“I’m May,” I say, offering him my hand.
He takes it and lifts it to pantomime a kiss on the back of my knuckles. “It’s my pleasure,” he says, “I’m Carson.”
“The pleasure is mine,” I say as he releases my hand.
“Boss is a good man. You’re safe here,” he says, as if reading every bit of fear I’ve been clutching since I got here. “Trust him,” he says and I jolt in surprise.
“Why would you say that?” I ask, curious.
He eyes me as I pour him a glass of juice and offer it. I’d already included his breakfast in the head count for the morning since he and Clint had been talking when I got up.
“Thank you,” he says as he takes the glass. “I say it because you can trust him. Everything he does, he does for good reason, even if it’s hard to see what that reason is.”
“Even asking me to be his fake fiancée?” I mumble, mostly joking.
But Carson doesn’t blink an eye. “What his father is doing is wrong.” He shifts a bit in his seat. “And if you don’t mind me saying, that’s a big risk on his part. He wouldn’t put Gracie through something like that without good reason.”
My heart aches as I think about Grace. Of course she’d know. She’d have to. What if it got her hopes up? What if it hurt her? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
“Has he ever screwed up?” I ask, hoping against hope for an impossible answer. Carson, though, isn’t rising to the bait.
“Boss?” he asks, as if not sure what I mean. When I nod, he lets out a snort. “Hell yes.” He seems chagrined. “Pardon my language.”
“Please speak freely around me,” I reply. “I’m not a delicate flower. I prefer honesty and candor.”
“You and me both, miss.” He smiles at me, and I realize he’s also a handsome man, but his looks take a second place to Clint.
“So what is his father doing, exactly?” I ask, wondering if Clint gave me the full story. I can’t help but feel he might have left out an important detail or two.
“Well,” Carson says around a swallow of juice, “that’s not really for me to say, miss.”
“What’s not?” Clint asks, walking into the room as if he’s been here the whole time. I glance at Carson, feeling a stab of panic that he’ll out me for being rude and nosy. But he winks at me.
“Where you went, Boss.” Carson says, and Clint looks over his shoulder quizzically at us.
“Speak freely to May. I trust her and she needs to be in the loop with the goings on here.” Clint’s eyes meet mine and I feel an unexpected heat rising in my cheeks and sinking low in my belly.
Clint
“So, tell me about yourself, Carson,” May says and Carson shrugs.
“Not much to tell, Miss.”
“Don’t let him lie to you,” I say, looking over at Carson.
But he shrugs again. “Wouldn’t interest the lady,” he says, and I wonder why it feels like I missed something.
“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t curious,” May says, keeping her eyes off me as she speaks.
“Perhaps another time, then,” Carson says respectfully. He gets up and washes his glass as I study May. When he leaves, I sense she’s ready to talk to me.
“I’ll do it,” she says, still carefully avoiding my stare.
But I need to know something. “Do you really understand what you’re agreeing to?” I ask, stepping close to her. She looks up at me, and I can see the thud of her heart against her breast bone.
She nods, her pretty lower lip trembling a bit as she stares up at me. I grab her and pull her close. “I’ll have to touch you,” I say, knowing that my father will expect us to act like we’re in love. “They’ll expect us to look like we’re in love.” I find I like how she feels pressed up against me like this.
She nods, still mute.
“I’ll need to be close to you.” I touch her cheek with my free hand. Her eyes drift closed as if she’s really feeling me for the first time. I feel my body respond to her and I let it. As I expected, she jolts a bit as my hard cock presses into her belly.
Before she can tell me no, I press my lips to hers. She’s sweet and tart, like orange juice and maple syrup. Like sin and surrender. Like everything I’ve ever craved and have never tasted.
Her lips part and my tongue traces the pretty curve of her lower lip. She’s so delicious. So sweet and warm. I want more. More. All of her. Everything she’s willing to give.
My cock pulses and her arms slip around my shoulders.
Is this okay?” I murmur against her lips. In response, she shivers, her whole body responding to me. I grab her ass in both hands and she sucks in a deep breath as if shocked by my crass action. But she doesn’t say no. She doesn’t pull away. No, she melts into me.
Her lips press to mine, and I kiss her, my heart aching with the sweetness and innocence of her kiss.
And I realize that if I don’t back off, I’m going to take her right here on the kitchen table. And that wouldn’t be good. There’s always a chance someone will walk in. Unwillingly, I back off, holding her upright until she finds her balance.
Her blue eyes meet mine and I have to explain myself. “I’d hate for someone to walk in,” I say, and she nods.
“Was it too much, too far?” I ask, needing to hear her say it’s okay if only for the selfish reason that I want to kiss her again and need her permission.
She shakes her head, mute.
Her eyes are wide on mine, and I know there’s something else. So I wait until she’s ready to talk. There’s nothing to be gained by pushing her. I want her to know I’ll wait and listen until she’s ready to talk. I made myself clear that I want her to be honest, candid, and know she can trust me with anything.
“I don’t want to hurt Grace.” Her tiny voice is enough to tell me she’s afraid. I’m not sure of what; if she’s afraid of hurting Grace or my reaction to this revelation.
“I don’t either. I thought we’d tell them that it’s a secret so she doesn’t wind up hurt. It also explains her not knowing you for very long. We can say we’ve been seeing each other for a while and didn’t bring you into her life until it was serious.”
A small smile tugs the corners of her lips. “You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” she says, her eyes dancing.
“I make Grace my number one priority,” I say, and she dips her head in what looks like respect. “Now,” I say and her head lifts so she can focus those beautiful eyes on me once more. “I said I’d teach you to shoot.”
She nods and I take the gun from over the front door and take her out. We’ve got a dedicated wall for practice. It’s into the side of a little mountain that’s all dirt. I show her how to load it and turn off the safety before showing her how to stand.
When she’s ready, I have her hold it and she pulls the trigger.
The paper target is instantly peppered with buckshot and she turns to me, her face lit up even as she lowers the barrel of the gun to the ground.
“Looks like you’re a natural,” I tell her and her eyes darken with something that looks like worry. Again, I get the feeling that something is bothering her. She turns and looks toward her car like there’s someone there.
“Now you know you can keep yourself safe,” It tell her. Once more, her eyes stray to her car and I wonder what she’s thinking. Who is chasing her? What is she running from? Or who is she running from?
The thought of any harm coming to her makes my guts twist and I see red. If anyone wants to hurt her, they’ll have to go through me.
May
I’m going to throw up. There’s no way I can do this. They’re going to know who I am, ev
erything will go to hell…
“Are you okay?”
I turn to give Clint a winning smile. I’m not alright. I’m dressed in a dress that’s not me; it’s too formal, too revealing, too pretty. “I’m fine,” I lie, watching the dirt road give way to concrete. I felt safe there, at his house.
“They’ll love you,” he says, and suddenly it feels real. This is what a man would say to the love of his life when he took her to meet his parents.
His hand settles on my knee as I stare out the truck window. I can do this. It’s going to hurt, and I need to remind myself it’s not real. But I can do this. Besides, I’ve dreamed about this moment. The real moment, not the fake one. But Clint doesn’t know that.
He never needs to know that.
He’ll hate me when he finds out.
Dread knots in my guts, but the warmth of his hand on my knee sinks into my flesh and curiously seems to combat the ice lining my gut.
I can do this.
The familiar, ornate door opens and I realize Clint’s parents don’t look like they’ve aged a day. They give us hugs and usher us inside. The whole time I’m silently begging them not to remember me.
It’s been years.
The men drift off and I find myself left alone with Barbra. Babs, as I remember her. She takes my hand and examines the ring on my hand.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, looking up at me. “So how have you been, Sara?”
My heart sinks to my toes. “I go by May now,” I say, needing to weave some quick damage control.
“So I heard.” Her brown eyes are sharp as she studies me. “What are you doing, exactly?”
I struggle to breathe. “I’ve… always loved Clint,” I say, realizing it’s not a total lie. Even now, the words feel right as I say them. They feel real. And I know that my deception has ruined any chance of them ever coming to fruition.
Fake Fiancé Next Door_A Small Town Romance Page 50
