The hesitation in her voice makes my chest go tight. If she thinks for a second that the answer is anything but yes, she hasn’t been paying attention at all.
“Greer, there’s no place I’d rather be than with you.”
Her smile is electric, making the knowledge of my offer letter ache like a punch to the gut. The more time I spend with Greer, the harder it becomes to make my choice.
I swallow down a spike of pain and steeple my hands under my chin. “Where do you recommend we shop for decorations?”
Greer’s look turns so devilishly excited I know I’m in trouble, but I’ll do anything to indulge her whims. She claps her hands together, and her blue eyes shine like, well, Christmas. “Have you heard of my best friend Target?”
“Remind me again why I agreed to come here?” Target’s holiday section looks like first Christmas threw up in the store and then a tornado came through. Red shopping carts litter the aisles, and stray ornaments skitter across the floor, kicked by distracted shoppers combing the store looking for a deal. In a nearby shopping cart, a toddler quietly shreds Christmas bunting into a pile of green and red tinsel while her mother’s back is turned to scavenge the shelves.
“Where’s your holiday spirit?” Greer laughs.
“I’m pretty sure this place is hell.”
She drops her mouth open and widens her eyes. “Blasphemy. Target is a girl’s best friend.”
“Better that than diamonds, I guess.”
Greer wrinkles her nose and spins to push three packages of white Christmas lights into my hands. “Here.”
I glance down at the price tag. Eighteen dollars each? Jesus. “Won’t one strand do it?” I ask.
She puts a hand on her hip. “I’m sorry, are you the same Lachlan Mills who will spend an hour debating the impact of using the word ‘a’ versus ‘the’? I didn’t know you half-assed anything.”
“Point taken.” I grin at the compliment and drop the lights into our cart. When I turn back, Greer’s disappeared to the next aisle, so I navigate around the shattered glass ornaments that line the floor to find her.
“See what you’re looking for?” I call.
Greer plucks an ornament off the shelf and turns to me with a gleam in her eye. A double scoop vanilla ice cream cone ornament with rainbow sprinkles dangles from her fingertips. “This one.” She bites her lower lip, and her pupils dilate with lust from our shared memory. “I mean, it’s not tahini, but…”
“I have a good feeling about that one,” I breathe, remembering along with her.
“Sold.”
We collect a few more decorations from the picked-over store—a gray felted tree skirt, some simple shatterproof ornaments—and then escape the holiday section for the relative quiet of the rest of the store. It’s peaceful walking with Greer, browsing the store like any other couple, taking our time to smell test twenty candles and add a cinnamony one to our stash.
At the end of the kids’ section, Greer stops the cart and turns to me, an almost shy look crossing her delicate features. “I was thinking.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Locke.” She rolls her eyes and swats my arm, and I catch her hand and tug her to my chest.
“Greer?”
She opens her mouth and closes it again, then shakes her head at me. I love the way I make her flustered, the way her cheeks stain pink. “Do you think that charity you talked about is still accepting donations?” she asks. “I was thinking we could buy a few extra presents.”
My heart expands so much I don’t know if it can fit in my chest anymore.
This woman is perfect, so goddamn good for me.
I seal her in a kiss because I have no words. All I can do is try to show her just how much she means to me.
When we break apart, Greer looks up at me and whispers, “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about your dad and Christmas.”
“Of course,” I say, when I really want to tell her I can trust her with anything. Anything except this job offer, of course. I know that means holding back part of me right now, but all the rest is hers. Every piece of me. “Thank you for being you, Greer.”
The look on her face is so damn happy that I fall for her a little more. How could I consider leaving her? But how could I not give myself a chance to see what’s possible in my career?
Whatever comes next, please, please don’t let it hurt.
I know I’m only fooling myself.
21
Greer
One day closer to Christmas. My computer screen reflects the glow of the colorful string lights Eden tacked to the back wall of the office space last week, and the mellow sound of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas streams from one of my colleague’s speakers. Not bad for a Monday afternoon.
I can’t help the way everything’s turned so smiley and hopeful in my life, and I have the man across the desk to thank for it.
I call quietly to Locke, “Almost ready?”
He nods and I turn off my laptop, then pull my scarf from my purse and wrap it around my neck. My hickey might have faded, but I can still feel the ghost of it on my neck, a constant reminder of me and Locke and this unnamed thing growing between us.
As Locke reaches to shut off his desk lamp, Eden walks toward us clad in a sleek pencil skirt and a casual T-shirt, her outfit as perfectly on-brand as the blog posts she writes for both WanderWell and the Go-Getter Girl’s Guide. “You guys heading out?”
Locke and I exchange a look, and I nod back at her. “Yeah. We’re checking out the happy hour at Octopus. There’s a holiday-themed drink menu, and the Twisted Rudolf has my name written all over it.”
Eden grins. “What’s a Twisted Rudolf?”
“Some sort of Bloody Mary garnished with carrots and celery,” I say.
“Oooh. You’re a spicy girl.”
I wink at her. “Sometimes.”
We dissolve into laughter while Locke groans at our antics. Then he searches my eyes, silently asking if we should invite Eden along. We’d planned to do drinks followed by dinner, and if she comes, we’ll not only miss out on privacy, it’ll be that much more likely that she’ll pick up on whatever’s going on between us. Eden knows Locke and I are going to parties together and that we’ve been friends since the day I started at WanderWell. But I don’t know if he and I are supposed to be pretend dating or just friends or what.
We didn’t talk about this.
Why didn’t we talk about this?
I thought I was okay with the uncertainty before, but now I’m not.
I hold Locke’s eyes and give the tiniest nod.
“You want to come with, Eden?” he asks.
Her face brightens. “Any chance there’s a Dirty Santa on the list?”
I wrinkle my nose. “What is that even?”
She shrugs. “Who knows, but it sounds good.”
I fight another laugh. “Well, the odds are high.”
“Then heck yes, I’ll come.”
Locke excuses himself to the restroom while Eden and I finish packing our things. After she zips up her coat, Eden makes her way back to my desk and bumps my shoulder with hers. “So you and Locke, huh?”
Secrets are stupid.
Can we all agree to get that tattooed on our asses?
I try to keep a straight face, but a guilty grin slips out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She and I have been friends as long as Locke and I have, and it feels good to share this with her.
Eden squeals, and I shush her as Locke returns to his desk and slings his bag over his shoulder.
“You all ready to go?” he asks.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Damien approach our small group. “Just a second,” he calls. He paces closer to my desk. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Greer?” He lowers his voice. “Privately?”
My skin prickles and heat spreads across my chest as I feel Eden and Locke’s eyes swing to me. “Um, yeah.” I turn to my friends. “Meet you downstairs?”
&
nbsp; Locke gives a wary nod, but he and Eden make their way toward the door. I loosen my scarf and follow Damien to our team room, then perch on one of the chairs as he slides the door closed behind us. The scent of his cologne swirls throughout the tiny space, familiar as a memory. It carries a touch of nostalgia for me, but it’s not the sadness for something that could have been. It’s a recognition that we had fun together in a way that feels like distant past.
I fold my hands in my lap. “Everything okay?” I ask.
Damien walks up to the counter-height table and rests his forearms on it, but he doesn’t take a seat. “Are you free sometime this week? Outside of work?”
My breath catches in my chest. “For…?”
Longing shadows his blue eyes. “I want to talk to you. About us.”
Oh my gosh. What is he trying to say?
Every thought in my head scrambles, and I have to remind myself that he’s the same person who told me I could be too emotional to make an impact at work. “There is no us,” I blurt out.
“I know and—”
Whatever he needs to say, I’m not ready to hear. Not when everything else in my life is so uncertain.
“I can’t right now, D.” My cheeks heat as I realize how easily I’ve fallen into using his old nickname. “Sorry,” I correct myself. “Damien.”
He edges his hand across the table like he wants to reach for me, but I keep my hands firmly in my lap. “Sometime this week, then?” His voice is thick with restraint.
My heart races and I start to sweat beneath the coat I’m still wearing. “Maybe,” I concede. Whatever’s going on, if we’re going to keep working together for the foreseeable future, we need to clear the air between us. But first I need to know how I’m supposed to play it with Locke.
My phone buzzes, cutting the thick moment and giving me the perfect excuse to leave. “I’m sorry, Damien,” I say. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Oh my god, Molly, it was bad.” I groan and flop onto my bed, aiming my phone at my face so Molly doesn’t get a FaceTime view of my ceiling. It feels like forever since I spoke with my roommate, but she’s only been gone a little over a week. A week that’s changed everything. A week that’s changed me.
Molly tilts her head at me and pushes her lips into a quizzical smile. Behind her, the Pacific Ocean kisses the Hawaiian shore like a tireless lover, the sea spray forming a glittering mist. “The drinks yesterday were bad?”
“No, the drinks were good.” More than good. They gave the rest of the day this loose, happy feeling that extended far into the night with Locke. Eden, for her part, left the bar after only one round, and then it was me and him alone to enjoy each other. “I don’t know what to do about Damien. It’s like me and Locke going to these events together made him wake up to what he walked away from, but I don’t want him anymore.”
“Unintended consequences, huh?”
I rub a hand over my face. “Seriously.”
“Ack, don’t do that.”
I peek at her from between my fingers. “Do what?”
“Touch your skin like that. Your poor pores.” The horror on her face makes me laugh.
“Your Korean skincare obsession has gone too far.”
Molly sticks out her tongue. “Well, skin aside, have you decided on an outfit for tomorrow’s Christmas party?”
“Mmm, nope.” I slide off the bed and walk her toward my closet. “I want to look good for Locke but not encourage Damien.”
“Girl, I don’t know if you can do both.”
For Molly’s sake, I resist the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose. I offer her a lopsided frown instead, then turn the camera toward the dresses hanging in my closet. “What do you think? Short, sassy black dress? Satiny green gown?” I spin the camera back to my face. “The invite only said ‘Wear your holiday finest.’”
“Ooh, tough one. You may just need to go with what feels right in the moment.”
Isn’t that the story of my life?
“You’re right.” I sigh. “It’s not like Locke hasn’t seen me naked, but I really want to wow him, you know?”
“Hold up. He’s seen you naked?”
Crap.
I blush as I stare at my friend’s incredulous face. “Um, yeah,” I gulp. “You might have missed some things.”
Molly shrieks, scattering a few birds on the Hawaiian beach. “Holy shit, Greer. It happened?”
“It happened.” I resist the urge to flop dramatically on my closet floor.
“Was it everything?”
My heart hurts with the wanting ache of it. “Yeah, Molly,” I whisper. “Everything and more. But I don’t how I’m supposed to act anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m supposed to show up at his family’s house for Christmas pretending to be his girlfriend, and he sure as hell treats me like his girlfriend, but we still haven’t talked about what this is actually supposed to be.”
She nods in understanding. “That’s what this is really about. You’re falling for him.”
I bite my lip. “I think I already fell.”
“So, tell Locke how you feel.” Molly grins. “Not to be cliché, but you should lock that thing down.”
I groan at her pun. For some reason, telling him feels even more dangerous than saying nothing at all. We’re walking this precarious line of not talking about it, and if we do, there’s always the chance that Locke won’t want the same thing I do.
He likes me. He really likes me. That much is clear. But does he want to be my boyfriend? Nothing in his history suggests he’s into long-term commitment.
“What if saying something ruins everything?” I whisper. A flutter of nerves tugs at my stomach, and my phone slides in my sweaty grip. If I thought my breakup was bad with Damien, who I only sort of cared about, how would I handle losing Locke, who I love?
“You’re not going to ruin things, Greer.” Molly draws her phone closer to her face and puts on her wise, I know what I’m talking about face. “Just because you haven’t hit a home run yet doesn’t mean this time you won’t. You and Locke have a solid foundation, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
I think of Locke in the bookstore and the way his hand felt brushing my knee. I think of him kissing me in my kitchen and telling me about his dad. About the way he looks when he’s buried deep inside me, so utterly and hopelessly gone.
And here’s the thing—maybe love doesn’t have to be hard. Maybe it can be easy, the way it is with Locke. Because this feeling is unlike anything I’ve ever known. Locke and I just make sense. We fit. And for the first time, I wonder if maybe I deserve it, too.
Molly waits for me to say something, and I finally crack and say, “Sure.”
“Tell him how you feel at the party,” she suggests. “Put on a gorgeous dress and make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
Hope stirs in my chest, and I feel myself give in to her relentless optimism. “You think it’s really that easy?”
My friend looks me in the eye and I can feel her love from an ocean away. “I think you won’t know unless you try.”
22
Locke
I cut the engine of my car in the parking lot of The Foundry, the venue for tonight’s WanderWell holiday party.
“You sure this is the right place?” Greer casts a skeptical glance at the overpass above the dusty parking lot. We’d passed through the back alley of a bunch of industrial buildings to get here, and the clouds blotting out light from the moon don’t help with the sketchy exterior.
I grin at her. “This is the place. Might not look like much from the outside, but they make it look really nice inside.”
“Well, since I trust you and all…” She glances at the building again. “It’s a quick dash to the door. I’m going to leave my coat here so I don’t have to deal with it later.”
“Go for it.” I’m eager to see what Greer has on underneath her coat since she met me in the parking lot of her apartment building with her outerwear alr
eady on.
She shrugs out of her coat, and I feel my mouth go dry. A long, silky emerald dress clings to her beautiful curves, showcasing the dip of her waist and the rise of her breasts. The halter top enhances her toned arms, and the plunging neckline drops so low as to almost be scandalous but stops just short of revealing too much skin. Her hair falls in sleek waves down her back, and the mascara on her long eyelashes makes her sparkling eyes look bottomless.
I suck in my breath at the sight of her. “God, Greer, you’re fucking gorgeous.”
She gives me a shy smile. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”
I lean across the center console and slant my mouth over hers, capturing her and claiming her. Drowning in her taste.
Greer moans into my mouth and reaches for me, bracing one hand on my chest. With the other hand, she reaches for my hair and tugs, sending tingles racing from my scalp down my spine.
She kisses me back breathlessly, and there’s no place in the world I’d rather be than here in this car, just the two of us. Any of our coworkers could walk by and see us, but I don’t care. All I want is her.
I pull back just far enough to look in Greer’s eyes. “Careful,” I growl, “or I’m not going to want to leave the car.”
She grins against my mouth. “That’s kind of the point.” She lowers her head to my neck and brushes her gorgeous lips over my skin.
My cock throbs in anticipation.
“Greer.” My voice comes out thick and strained. “Another minute and we’re not going to have a choice in the matter.”
Scratch that. In thirty seconds, I’m going to have a hard-on that my suit won’t be able to hide.
She groans and then bites her lip. “Later?” she whispers.
Fuck, yes. There’s nothing I want more. “Later,” I promise.
She sighs and returns to her side of the car, then reaches a hand for the handle of the car. “Ready?” she asks.
The Fake Date Agreement (Awkward Arrangements Book 1) Page 13
