by Lynn Stevens
I deeked left again before breaking right. Darla stayed with me until I pulled back two steps. She bolted forward, ready to jump and block the ball. With a quick move, I slipped by her and took my shot, banking it off the backboard and shattering the silence in my head. Tisha grabbed the ball as it bounced beneath the net.
“Nice, Westbrook.” She cocked her head, closing one eye slightly. I knew this look, it was Tisha’s how-do-I-keep-her-this-focused look. I’d been the recipient of it more times than I could count. She tossed the ball at Darla. “Hit it, D. It’s getting late.”
“Got somewhere to be, Tish? Or someone to be with?” Darla bent down, stretching to her toes. The ball rested between her feet. “Like your girl Rachel here? She’s got a man on her mind.”
Vina slapped her hands against her thighs, tossing another scowl my way. “Whatever, D. Just play ball.” She didn’t approve. Not that I cared. Vina had one goal in life, to get a full ride to any college. Nobody was going to stand in the way of that. Not even the hottest guy on the planet. The summer three-on-three tourneys were a way for her to perfect her skills on and off the court. Vina liked playing coach more than she’d admit.
The next several points went back and forth until exhaustion got the better of me. Darla snatched the ball from a bad pass and scored without anybody trying to stop her. I collapsed on the court with my arms spread above my head.
Darla stared down at me. “That how you looked Saturday night?”
If I had any energy, I would’ve jumped up to slap her smug face. Instead I just flipped her off.
Darla snorted and walked off the court like she’d been on a Sunday stroll.
“What was that about?” Vina asked, casting a shadow over my supine form.
“Darla being Darla, I guess.” I reached up and she pulled me to my feet. “Who knows what’s on her mind half the time.”
“Whatever it was, she got to you.” Tisha spun the ball on her finger, catching it between both hands when it started to fall. “You gonna tell us, or leave us in suspense?”
“It’s not a big deal, guys.”
They stared at me, waiting anyway. Apparently, it was a big deal for them.
I sighed and let my arms fall to my sides like they weighed ten million pounds. “Fine, but it’s nothing. Really.” I waited for one of them to drop it. They didn’t. “She mentioned the date I had Saturday night. That was all.”
“That’s it?” Tisha widened her eyes. “That was all she said.”
“If it makes you feel better, she made it sound... worse than it was.” I squeezed my fingers into my palms.
Vina took the ball from Tisha and rolled it between her hands. She watched the slow revolution as she spoke. “I don’t care if you screw around with every guy in the city as long as you’re focused on the game, Rachel. For a while, it wasn’t.” Her head snapped up as she slapped the ball to a stop. “Don’t let it happen again or I’ll find someone who wants to play.”
The silence stretched for a moment, broken only by the thwacking tennis game.
“It won’t,” I finally said. “Don’t worry about it.” But you’ll never find someone else who pays. I didn’t say it no matter how much I wanted to.
Vina nodded and strode off the court with Tisha on her heels. I stood alone, wondering how this had happened so fast and how to fix it.
CHAPTER THREE
I hated this nervous flutter in my stomach. There’s that old cliché that girls get butterflies when they’re around boys they liked. Well, this felt more like bats.
Adam and I exchanged text messages every day for the last six days to work out the details of our arrangement. Friday night, his ex worked at a frozen custard stand, and there was a big party in my neighborhood, the perfect place to show off my new boyfriend. It almost made me sick how much I loved the sound of that. Our evening was set.
The oddest thing was his plan to pick me up at my house. That might have a lot to do with the nerves. Adam wasn’t dirt poor or anything, but he didn’t have Westbrook money. Westbrook Pharmaceuticals was the largest privately own pharmaceutical manufacturer in the country. Dad’s great-great grandfather started it, and a Westbrook has been at the head table ever since. I was next in line, actually the only person in line, and I’d be the first female Westbrook to run it. My future was mapped out. Unlike most kids my age, I didn’t mind that. It was easier. There were worse things to do than run a billion-dollar company.
I waited in the kitchen with Joanne, the longest tenured cook-slash-maid we’ve had around here. She just passed her eighth-month anniversary. I started buying her little gifts for each month she stuck around. For her seventh month, she got a bottle of her favorite perfume. A makeup bag full of high-end cosmetics waited on the kitchen counter a few weeks ago for the eighth month. She refused them at first, but I insisted. I liked Joanne. She didn’t try to parent me, and she was smart enough to stay away from my father’s evil assistant, Angela.
The buzzer at the gate filled the silence of the room. That was the other thing I liked about Joanne, she didn’t have to talk all the time. The bubbling of water on the stove was comfort enough.
Joanne pressed the button to open the gate without even asking who it was. I knew it was Adam. He was supposed to be at my house at six, and it was ten minutes before. Nobody ever came over to our house without an invite. We wouldn’t let them in. Well the last maid did, but that’s why she only lasted four weeks. Angela fired her without telling my father. He shrugged and took his paper into his study when he found out. Not that I liked the last one, but Dad should’ve gotten on Angela’s case for firing her without his approval. It’s our house not Angela’s.
The doorbell echoed through the house. Joanne turned to face me and nodded once before hurrying toward the front door. I slid off the stool by the counter, smoothing my palms over the pale-yellow sundress. I’d spent most of the afternoon in my massive closet, digging for the perfect outfit. It needed to be sexy and casual but dressy. This fit the bill. I couldn’t remember when I bought it or if I’d ever worn it before. I paired it with white sling backs and a matching clutch to class it up.
After waiting the appropriate minute and a half, I strolled into the foyer, where Adam stood with Joanne. He rocked on his heels with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He didn’t glance at me even as the click of my heels announced my presence. His head was tilted back. I always forget the fresco on the ceiling. Dad commissioned it from some artist my mother liked. It was the history of St. Louis circling the Arch in the center. It took the guy more than a year to paint it, and I remembered playing with my mother around the scaffolding like it was a castle tower.
“Hey,” I said as the memory sent waves of unease along my skin. My mother was the last person I needed to think about at this moment.
Adam slowly lowered his head. “Hey.” He nodded toward the ceiling. “Nice place. I think my house would fit in this room alone.”
“It’s not that big.” I stopped about a foot away from him.
Adam chewed on his upper lip. “It’s that big, Rachel.”
I turned around to get Joanne to second me, but she had disappeared. I really needed to figure out how she did that.
“So, I thought we’d have dinner first before we go to Izzy’s and the party. Sound good?” Adam moved toward the door and stopped with his hand on the copper knob. “This door would probably pay for college,” he mumbled.
I ignored the money comment. It wasn’t like my family hadn’t worked their asses off for the wealth. Instead I focused on the unplanned part. “Dinner, huh? Sounds a lot like a real date.”
“Yeah, well, I figured we could use the time to discuss a few things.” He pulled the heavy door open with a grunt.
“Color me intrigued,” I said over my shoulder as I stepped into the late August heat.
Adam barreled into me when I stopped. Sitting in the drive that circled our gaudy three-tiered fountain was the ugliest truck I’d ever seen in my life
. It was almost as ugly as the stupid fountain. The rusty truck might have been white at one point instead of the orange and white before me.
“What is that?” I pointed at it, half afraid it would fall apart from my glare.
“Your chariot awaits, my dear.” Adam bowed and motioned toward the truck. He smiled at me when he straightened. “She may not be much to look at, but she’s got a solid engine. Besides, maybe it’s time for a princess to see how the other half lives.”
I crossed my arms over my stomach to keep from hurling. “Do I need to make sure my tetanus shots are up to date?”
“Wait until you feel how smooth she rides,” Adam said in my ear. I was starting to realize that this was his favorite form of communication.
My arms tightened around my midsection, fighting back the shiver that had nothing to do with the need to hurl. For the millionth time since last Saturday, I questioned whether this fake dating thing was a good idea.
The drive to south city took twenty minutes. We avoided all conversation since Adam turned the music up to eleven. The truck may have looked like a relic from the Great Depression, but the stereo was top notch. His phone switched from twangy country to hard rock then indie coffeehouse. I stared at him as he drove and sang each tune. Adam Marshall was a musical enigma.
He kicked it up a notch when he caught my eye and sang the lovesick indie ballad a little louder. Shaking my head, I faced the passenger window and allowed a smile.
We parked outside a diner with a neon pink sign flashing “Hot Buns & More!!!” Obviously, this wasn’t going to be a fancy dinner. I watched each letter light up again before opening the door. Adam waited on the sidewalk. His hands were shoved into his pockets. I wondered why but decided not to worry about it. What did it matter? The chances of someone asking me why my fake boyfriend always had his hands in his pockets were slim to none.
“Not what you expected,” Adam said as he reached for the door.
“What gave it away? The lack of me squeeing?” I mumbled, but he heard me anyway.
His breath parted the hair covering my ear. “Best food in the city, Rachel.”
I glanced over my shoulder, inhaling a whiff of his cologne, a mix of black pepper, patchouli, and violets. It wasn’t the scent of wealth and probably not the most expensive brand, but it fit Adam. I smiled and stepped into the diner, grateful for my incredible sense of smell. At least my mother left me with that.
A waitress led us to a corner booth away from the counter. The rounded booth seated six, but since it was just the two of us, it felt huge. The forest green vinyl creaked as I slid toward the center. I stopped when my shoulder touched something hard beside me. Adam grimaced and rubbed his upper arm.
“Sorry, I just...” I motioned toward the diner as if that would explain it all. This wasn’t my usual type of place. It was more like something I’d watch on TV. The smells of roast beef and fried chicken filled my nose. I could feel the calories swirling in the air around my head and the grease seeping into my pores.
“No, it’s okay. I get it,” Adam said. He put his arm behind me on the back of the booth and stared at the waitress as she sashayed by with an overloaded tray. “It’s like an episode of Alice in here.”
I shifted toward him and tilted my head. “What’s Alice?”
His head fell back as he laughed. “It’s this ancient TV show my mother loves. She’s got all the seasons on DVD. Whenever she’s feeling down, she turns it on and eats a gallon of ice cream.”
My stomach lurched at “gallon of ice cream.” Surely, he exaggerated. Then again, I’d seen Angela in one of her moods after Dad snapped at her. She’d eat an entire tub of lime sherbet while she waited for him to calm down.
“DVDs? Why not stream it?” That would be so much easier.
“Mom’s had them forever, before Netflix. Anyway, it’s about this woman who works in a diner. This place reminds me of it.” He leaned closer and pointed toward the waitress on the other side of the dining room. “That’s Becky. She’s got a thing for Todd the busboy, but he doesn’t know it.”
His cologne tickled my nose. I turned my head slightly and my nose brushed against his. I wanted to linger there but pulled back a bit. “How do you know all this?”
“Heya, Adam,” a voice said, drawing our attention away from Becky. Her nametag said “Thelma,” and she was shaped like a hurricane lamp.
“Hey, Thelm.” He drew away from me and dropped his arms into his lap. It was as if he was caught doing something wrong, but that couldn’t be right. This was harmless even if Thelma didn’t know it. He nodded toward me. “This is Rachel.”
“Hi,” I said as Thelma gave me the look-over.
“You want the usual?” Thelma rolled her shoulders while her head stayed stationary. It took talent. In another life she might have been a belly dancer with those moves.
Adam nodded. “Yep and get the same for Rachel.”
Excuse me? Even the idea of a guy ordering released plumes of smoke from my ears.
Thelma snorted and waddled away. Yeah, never going to be any kind of dancer. Once she was out of earshot, I scooted away from Adam and crossed my arms over my chest.
“What?” he asked when I wouldn’t look at him. Staring at the couple holding hands across their table was far more interesting than anything he had to say. “Oh, come on, you can’t be mad that I ordered for you.”
When I didn’t respond, the tips of his fingers brushed over the bare skin on my upper arm. The tiny touch sent a lightning bolt through my skin.
“Trust me, Rachel.”
Trust. Sure, trusting someone was easy until they ruined your life or just disappeared. Yeah, that wasn’t happening anytime soon.
“Okay, fine.” His arm fell across my shoulders, and he tugged me toward him. I fought the urge to shiver as his chest pressed against me. He put his lips to my ear again. “You might think that was a dick thing to do, but you won’t regret it.”
The pounding in my chest told me I didn’t regret it at all. If this was how I was going to react to him, this whole fake relationship thing was definitely a bad idea. It was only going to end one way, with me getting left behind. I couldn’t let that happen. Not again.
It was time to take control of the situation.
Turning around, I leaned close enough to Adam that raw silk couldn’t get between us. “Adam, this isn’t a real date, remember? We’re playing a game to get you over your ex-girlfriend and get people over my reputation. Don’t treat me like some little moron you can woo with slick words or stupid romantic gestures.”
“It wasn’t a stupid romantic gesture, Rachel.” His lips were inches from mine, probably to keep his words just between us, but I didn’t care. I wanted to close the gap and feel his cool lips burn against mine. “Thelma is Heather’s aunt.”
And there was the iceberg that took down the Titanic.
I closed my eyes and backed away. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I didn’t know if she’d be working tonight.”
“Since she’s here, you decide to go all macho on me.” I opened my eyes again, not bothering to glance at him. Truth was I wanted his macho bullshit to be about me, not about Heather. Fool me once. “Even if she wasn’t here, would you have been such a colossal dick?”
I felt him shrug.
Thelma moved between the tables with her tray balanced on the tips of her fingers. I sighed and wiggled closer to Adam. Even if he was a jackass for not telling me, we had an agreement. I reached up and trailed my fingers along his jaw and down his neck.
Through clenched teeth, I whispered, “Don’t pull that shit again, okay?”
His Adam’s apple bulged beneath my fingers.
I smiled as brightly as the sun, but there wasn’t any heat behind it. Though this sham had already gone too far, the last thing I was ever going to be was a quitter. No matter how hard this was, I was in for the long haul.
If I was lucky, he’d meet someone in the next week, so I didn’t ha
ve to deal with the way my heart stopped whenever he was close.
But I’ve never been lucky in my life. Why start now?
CHAPTER FOUR
Adam and I didn’t talk much while we ate, but I made sure to touch him and smile. All for Thelma’s sake. She didn’t bat an eye when she dropped off the check. Adam kissed my forehead at that exact moment. It couldn’t have been scripted better.
My nerves kicked in after we left the diner.
Iggy’s Frozen Custard was a St. Louis staple. It didn’t matter what neighborhood you lived in, you went to Iggy’s. There wasn’t much to it. Just a simple small building with four outdoor windows under a rainbow awning. But the line was already curving down the street.
Adam drove around the lot twice before someone pulled out, leaving a parking spot open facing the street. Again, it couldn’t have been scripted better. The front of shop would also have a clear view of where we were. Not that she’d be able to see through the current throng of people, but we were here to be seen. That had to be accomplished regardless of how long it would take. Personally, I hoped it wouldn’t take all night. Nothing with Adam was going to be cut and dry. Besides, we had a party to go to soon.
He held my hand as we walked toward the end of the line. His hand tightened around mine and his entire body stiffened. I shook my arm.
“Relax,” I said.
“Sorry.” He glanced at me, his gaze sweeping my body. “This isn’t easy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just follow my lead when you see her. And stand behind me. Put your arms around my waist and your chin on my shoulder.” I moved in front of him and positioned his hands. “Like this. Then whisper in my ear.”
We moved forward in the line. Adam followed my instructions. I shivered involuntarily and hated myself for it.
“What was that for?” he said into my ear. My body melted against his as his hot breath was felt in my toes.
