The Boyfriend Contract

by Victoria James

  She found a bench near the end of the pier and collapsed with an ungraceful thud. She sat cross-legged and stared out at the vista in front of her. The choppy, bluish-gray waters of Lake Erie were as miserable as she felt. Normally she knew this was a picturesque spot and the nicest sunset around. But tonight the water was angry, the waves crashing furiously against the rocks. There wasn’t even one of the usual fishermen out on the pier with a lawn chair. They were probably all still gossiping about the inn outside the town hall.

  She stabbed her plastic spoon into the dense ice cream and wished she were home. But she hadn’t felt like going back to the house that she now had no idea what to do with. She shivered and zipped her sweater as far up as it would go. Ice cream probably wasn’t the best choice for the rapidly falling temperature, but drinking alcohol on the pier was illegal, so that left her with this as the only option.

  Spoonful by spoonful, she took in the sights, the sounds, the smells of the beach in the distance and the pier around her.

  Emily stared at the father and daughter walking hand-in-hand on the pier, the little girl smiling up at her dad as she licked her ice cream. Her heart constricted at the adorable sight, and inevitably she remembered her father, the man that she had looked up at like that little girl. Maybe she’d always known, somewhere deep down, that she wouldn’t matter as much to him as her brother did. Maybe that’s why she’d tried so hard to please her father. Instead of following her dreams, she’d followed her father’s dreams, and in the end it had gotten her nowhere. How could she have not seen it coming?

  The little girl’s peal of laughter floated over as her father scooped her into the air. Emily’s throat tightened painfully, and she couldn’t even manage to swallow the hunk of ice cream slowly sliding down her throat. Had she ever had that kind of relationship with her father? No, of course not. If she’d wanted to spend time with him, it meant following him to the office. If she wanted to see his smile, it meant getting a perfect score on a test, or later on it meant getting into the top business school in the country. After that, it meant joining his team at the hotel and staying up all night, putting together new marketing directions and stellar presentations.

  Had she ever held her father’s hand? Now he was gone, and the opportunity was lost. Her ability to ask him why, why he’d shut her out at the end, was ripped away from her.

  Too much ice cream pooled in her throat and she coughed, choking.

  “Easy there. You wouldn’t want to cause a scene, or it’ll be on Facebook by morning,” Cooper said, a corner of his mouth tilting upward.

  As she coughed up an almond, he sat down beside her, much to her mortification. Why did this man only seem to catch her at her worst? She snatched a napkin from the bundle hanging out of her pocket and wiped her face, trying to not cough too loudly as a cluster of almond and marshmallow finally eased its way down her throat. She didn’t even like Rocky Road; she’d just been lured by the tempting similarities between her life and the name of the ice cream. Now she was paying for it by being humiliated in front of Cooper for what had to be at least the third time—and she’d only known the man for a month. “I’m fine, thanks,” she choked.

  He managed to pull off end-of-day exhausted very well. For her, end-of-day exhaustion meant a hot mess. For him it meant a delectable five o’clock shadow, mussed up hair that made her fingers want to continue mussing it up, and clothes that were rumpled, reminding her of how physical his job was. All things she didn’t need to be thinking about for many reasons. The most obvious being that he was her new—and her first—BFF’s brother. That wouldn’t be good because if she and Cooper were a train-wreck, Callie would be caught in the middle. Also, Cooper seemed detached. Like, just when she thought the chemistry between them was mutual, he’d close up and distance himself. Sort of like the way you’d be nice to an animal at the shelter. You’d smile at the animal, maybe give it a pat or two, but then you’d leave, knowing you had no intention of taking the animal home. But since you had a heart, you felt bad for the poor thing.

  “So what are you doing out here tonight? Definitely not beach weather,” he said, turning his head from the swirling pink horizon to face her.

  She forgot about her ice cream, she forgot about the original reason she’d come out here tonight, because when he looked at her he made her wish things could be different, that there was more between them. She turned her attention to the half-eaten tub of ice cream and wondered what to say.

  People here didn’t hide. You knew who they were, and if you didn’t know, someone would be able to tell you their entire life story in under five minutes. Except Cooper, he didn’t really talk about himself, and no one had told her anything about him. But really, they didn’t hide behind suits and designer clothing, expensive cars, or houses. In some ways it was reassuring and in others it was disconcerting, especially when you didn’t really know who you were or what you stood for. “I just wanted some peace and quiet.”

  “Does this have something to do with the zoning meeting?”

  She shrugged. It had to do with everything. Her family. The zoning. The inn. Her life here. The fact that she was more alone than she’d ever been. “Obviously. Everything I’ve planned is now going up in smoke.”

  “Not necessarily,” he said gently. “You know you can take this up to the next level. Builders do it all the time when they don’t like what the county votes.”

  She twirled her spoon around in the ice cream. “I know, but if I do that, I’m going to make enemies. Do I want that? This town is so small I can’t walk around with everyone hating me and talking about me.”

  He stretched out his legs in front of him. “People will talk no matter what you do, so you might as well do what you believe in. Your speech was pretty damn good. Your vision for that old place is something I think your grandmother would be very proud of.”

  She was staring at him. “It doesn’t matter if I can’t even start this inn. All the money, the time, what, for nothing?”

  He ran a hand over his jaw, and she waited patiently. She had never been around anyone who could calmly assess a losing situation. He wasn’t telling her it was her fault for running ahead with renovations without getting all her zoning approved first. He wasn’t telling her she was an idiot for trying to turn an old house into an inn in a small town. “I don’t think it’s for nothing, and I don’t think it’s over unless you want it to be over. Those renovations are moving faster than even I believed was possible, because you’re able to make on-the-spot decisions and you know what you want. I know that place is going to be amazing.”

  She held her breath for a moment, relishing his words. She wasn’t used to that…to someone believing in her like that. She put down her cup of half-finished ice cream and crossed her arms for warmth. She hardly knew her grandmother. She wasn’t doing this for her, though. She was doing it for revenge, for pride, for ego. She wanted to prove that she could run her own line of boutique inns. She wanted to show them all, to show her brother that even though their father never had confidence in her, she had confidence in herself. If she gave up now, she’d be proving him right. “Thank you,” she said, turning to Cooper and forcing a smile. “We weren’t that close, but I hope she would have been.”

  “Well, I think your point about the restoration was dead-on. It’s one of the oldest homes in Maple Hill, and you’re doing the community a service by restoring it and making it a public place for everyone to have access to.”

  “Right? I’m glad you see it like that.”

  “A lot of people do.” He held her stare for a moment and her mouth went dry. It was as though the wind brought with it a change in mood, and suddenly she was very aware of his proximity, of the heat emanating from his strong body, of the light in his blue eyes. For a second, she hoped that maybe he felt the same way, that maybe she wasn’t crazy thinking they had some kind of a connection. But then he stood. “Can I walk you back to your car? I’ve got to get going. We have an early start tomorrow.�
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  And just like that, the moment was broken. Cooper was back to being gentlemanly and friendly and nothing more. She stood, the weight of all the day’s disappointments on her shoulders. That loneliness that had begun to seep inside as she stood at the town hall meeting tonight dug a wider hole in her heart, as did the realization that to Cooper she’d always be just a friend and client.

  Chapter Nine

  “All right, Buttons, it’s time we go up to bed,” Emily said to her cat, who ignored her and kept on walking. Cats, she’d realized, didn’t listen at all and they didn’t even try to fake listening. Emily was okay with that, though; she respected the fact that Buttons was independent and operated on her own schedule. Buttons was affectionate and would often approach her during the day to be picked up and snuggled, and just about when Emily got her hopes up she could hold onto her furry friend forever, Buttons would jump off and leave her for parts unknown. Everyone in the house knew not to let Buttons outside, and so far her cat had managed to stay out of trouble because Emily had been diligent in keeping her confined to different areas of the home.

  It was the end of a long day and she walked around the large house, turning off lights and double-checking the doors were locked. Though so many people said they didn’t even bother locking their doors in Maple Hill, there was no way Emily would ever go to bed without making sure the house was secure. There were some city habits she had no intention of breaking. It was way earlier than she normally went to bed, but she was so exhausted—or maybe defeated—from the town hall loss two nights ago that she was ready to turn in.

  She walked up the stairs slowly, spotting Buttons heading down the basement staircase. She quickly showered in her newly finished en suite, and as usual, she admired the marble herringbone tile in the large shower. Every day this week she was trying to focus on the positive things in her life and not on the growing suspicion that she had made one of the biggest mistakes of her career. She towel-dried her hair and quickly dressed, anxious to get to bed because she was tired and the crew would arrive early tomorrow.

  A creepy meow that almost sounded like a loud moan echoed through the empty house, and she ran out into the hallway and peered over the banister. “Buttons, you okay?” she called out.

  Of course, Buttons didn’t answer, and Emily’s heart started hammering. But the house was gigantic, and from the upstairs it wasn’t always possible to hear if someone was entering from the back door. She gingerly made her way down the stairs, searching for signs of trouble. Buttons was nowhere to be seen. When she reached the kitchen a shiver stole through her body and her gaze scanned the room.

  Her adorable, affectionate, fluffy cat came tearing through the kitchen with something black with a long tail hanging out of her mouth. A mouse.

  Emily screamed, and the horrifying little creature escaped from Buttons’s mouth and scurried across the kitchen. Emily kept screaming, not caring that her reaction was way over the top, and climbed onto the island as though her life depended on it. “Buttons!” she yelled, her voice a shriek and narrow whisper all at the same time.

  Buttons didn’t pay her any attention. She was all stealth and on a mission to get the mouse. Emily watched in horror as her previously adorable cat—now bloodthirsty killing machine—tore through the kitchen again in hot pursuit of the mouse. While Buttons was doing exactly what a cat was supposed to do, exactly what she had hoped her cat would do, Emily was not prepared to witness this.

  She needed to leave the scene. Ignorance would be bliss. She spotted the leftover paper cups from the Sleepless Goat when Callie had surprised them all with coffee today, and a bag of Cheetos on the counter and knew what needed to happen. Tonight was no time to deal with her addictions. Tonight was about survival. Her heart hammered painfully in her chest and she scanned the room for Buttons or the mouse, but thankfully they were nowhere to be seen. This was Emily’s only chance to leave. It was now or never. She counted to ten and then jumped off the island, paper cup in hand, running, not even slowing down. With one hand she snagged a bottle of wine from the counter like a baton in an Olympic race, and with the other she snatched the Cheetos, then kept running down the hall, up the stairs, and into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

  Mice.

  She couldn’t deal with mice. Didn’t Cooper say they’d dealt with rodents? She tightly squeezed her eyes shut and clutched the bottle of wine to her chest. Logically, she knew mice were harmless, but they were nasty and they had no business in her home.

  She heard that horrible moaning sound from Buttons and held her breath. What was happening down there? Was Buttons murdering the mouse? She poured a glass of wine and chugged it like a university student at a keg party with their peers chanting chug, chug, chug.

  She leaned her head against the back of the door again and closed her eyes as the sound of Buttons skidding into the wall, jumping, and meowing echoed around the house likes sounds from a horror movie.

  She poured another glass of wine as her phone rang. Who would be calling her at this time of night? Sadly it wasn’t even ten o’clock, she realized as she glanced at the phone. It was Cooper. She took a deep breath and answered, “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Cooper. Can you check something down in the basement?”

  She took a deep breath and tried to sound normal. What did she think the man would be calling for? To ask her out? To spend the night on the phone with her, having a heart to heart discussion? Just because he’d sat on the pier with her two nights ago didn’t mean he had feelings for her. The next morning it had been business as usual. “Excuse me? Why the basement?”

  “I need you to make sure the boiler is off.”

  She barely even knew what the boiler looked like. “I can’t do that.”

  “Sure you can. Leave me on the line and I’ll tell you exactly what to do. That thing hasn’t been inspected yet and I just found out one of the guys turned it on earlier today. If it wasn’t shut off again it’s a fire hazard, Emily.”

  A fire at this point wasn’t a bad idea. Really, she couldn’t turn it into an inn, and it was now infested with rodents. She could collect her insurance check and walk away from all of this. Let it burn. “I avoid the basement at all costs. Most days I live here pretending this house doesn’t even have a basement. It’s like a dungeon.”

  She wasn’t sure if his muffled response was a laugh or a curse. “Go down to the basement, please, so that I’m not held liable for damages.”

  Well, if that wasn’t an honest declaration of a man’s feelings or lack of feelings then what was? She gasped and shivered as a crash sounded from downstairs. “Hold on,” she managed to choke. She put the phone down and poured another glass of wine.

  “All right, where are you?” he said when she picked up the phone again.

  “Uh, in my room, drinking wine and about to open a bag of Cheetos.”

  “Why did you put the phone down? I thought you were walking downstairs?”

  “Nope. I was pouring more wine.”

  “Okay, I’m missing something. You can have wine after you go to the basement.”

  “Nope, I’ll need more wine before I can be convinced to go to the basement.”

  “Emily.” His voice sounded strangled, like he was trying to curb his frustration.

  “I am unable to go downstairs at this time.”

  “Why not?”

  “There is a situation happening downstairs that I’m not capable of dealing with.”

  There was a long sigh. “Well, you’re going to have to force yourself.”

  “I’m not doing anything. I’m actually going to stay in my room tonight on an elevated surface and finish this bottle of wine and pray for daylight.” She was slightly aware that the wine may have started having an effect, because the urge to laugh and cry simultaneously at the situation was becoming impossible to fight.

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but it doesn’t sound too good. Do you need me to come over there?” he said, the frustrat
ion leaving his voice. Now he almost sounded…sweet. Maybe tender. Possibly worried. Kind of like the night he taught her how to play ball, or at the pier. She squeezed her eyes shut and finished her glass of wine.

  “I don’t need anyone,” she whispered, wishing so desperately that it was true. She needed people. She needed her father. She needed a normal brother. She needed a mother who had her back and understood her. She needed real friends. She needed a family. A real family. And maybe she needed a man exactly like Cooper. Or maybe she needed Cooper.

  “I’m coming over,” he said before ending the call.

  The giant crash downstairs made her jump and she stared at the half-empty bottle of wine, telling herself to wait before she drank more. Her tolerance was low because she rarely drank and any more of it might not be wise.

  She should really open the door and assess the situation, but the thought of that creature, in Buttons’s mouth and then scurrying around, made her pause. She would never be able to think of Buttons the same way again. But Cooper was on his way over, and if she didn’t want to humiliate herself for the five thousandth time since she’d met him, she should force herself to go downstairs like a sane person.

  She opened the door carefully, hoping like hell she wasn’t going to collide with her cat or a mouse. Seeing nothing, she took a wobbly step forward, slowly walking to the stairs. When she reached the top step she gasped and covered her mouth, but not before the hideous sight took root in her mind. She would never be able to wash the image from her eyes—it was a bloody massacre. Half a dozen black mice littered her hallway; heads and tails were in different areas.

  She closed her eyes and clutched the railing, swaying slightly from the panic, from the wine, from the exhaustion, from the fear. Some days felt like too much. This week was too much. Her brother, and the town hall meeting in which basically everyone opposed her plan, making it abundantly clear she didn’t fit in this small town. She wasn’t one of them, she didn’t see things the way they did. She didn’t belong in the city and she didn’t belong here, either.