by Teagan Kade
“Quirky, eccentric… I don’t know.”
“Sounds like a perfect match,” Matt smiles.
As Mom said, opposites do attract, and there is attraction there. My cock’s already twitching at the thought of seeing Shannon again. “I’ll keep things vague,” I continue, “for Mom’s sake.” I swallow hard. Give me drown-proofing any day over this. “There’s more.”
Matt sees it coming. “There always is with you.”
“Mom kind of thinks we’re engaged.”
Matt’s on his feet now. “Engaged? Jesus, Gabe. That’s going to be a lot harder to pull off.”
“You don’t think I know that?”
He’s shaking his head, exhaling. “Maybe this is taking it too far.”
“Let me give it a shot.”
Matt throws his hands up again. “Whatever, bro, but just remember that look on Mom’s face and how bad you’re going to feel when it’s replaced by one of disappointment.”
Quiet settles over the room.
When it doesn’t look like Mom’s going to wake up any time soon, I step out.
I stand in front of the hospital, a strong breeze blowing through, an silent ambulance slowly driving past.
I step to the side and take out my cell. I pull up Shannon’s number, staring at it.
This is fucking insane.
Screw it. I hit dial and wait.
“Hello?” comes a tentative, timid voice.
“Shannon, hi,” I begin. “It’s Gabe.”
*
The following day the breeze has given away to a perfect stillness, the skies dotted with cotton clouds.
I see her approaching, backlit by the sun. Somehow, dressed casually like this, she’s even hotter than I remember.
As she comes closer I notice she’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt for some sort of animal shelter that’s tight across her chest. Her caramel hair is out, bouncing on her shoulders as she walks, and she’s smiling. It’s not a typical ‘Let’s get it on’ smirk, but a wide, beaming smile not unlike the one Mom had when I told her the ‘good news.’
I stand from the bench and for a moment, I actually don’t know what to do. I would have slayed this stuff in my younger years, but something about this is different. She, Shannon, is different.
She goes to open up her arms, maybe to embrace me, before pulling back and giving a mousy little laugh that goes straight to my dick, running her hair back behind her ears, glancing at me sideways, her cheeks turning. I want to pick her up and slam her against the wall, feel how tight the walls of her pussy are around my cock.
“Should I… um… sit?” she asks, snapping me out of my daydream.
I sit and pat the space beside me. “Yeah, sure. Take a load off.”
Take a load off? Nice start, player.
I hold my hands between my legs. I look around. “Nice park.”
She leans forward, swinging her legs and following my eyes. “Dad used to bring me here when I was a kid. She points. “There’s a whole family of squirrels in that tree over there.”
Get to it. “Look,” I start, tweaking the phrasing in my head, “I need your help.”
“You need my help? Aren’t you the big bad sailor?”
“I’m a SEAL, actually.”
Again, it just slips on out. I never tell anyone what I do, not really, but for some reason my guard’s down around this girl.
When the confusion doesn’t lift, I add, “A Navy SEAL.”
“Oh,” she says, “like Bruce Willis in, what was that movie? Tears of the Sun, right?”
I let that one slide. “Something like that, but this isn’t a Navy matter. It’s more of a personal request.”
I see her swallow. “I see.” She’s nervous.
I don’t blame her.
Just fucking say it. “I’d like for you to be my fiancée.”
Her mouth drops a little. “Uh…” I’ve completely and utterly bamboozled her. Dropping a flashbang between us would have been less confusing.
“Not for real,” I add.
She’s shaking her head. “I don’t understand.”
I’m fucking this up. My head’s screaming ‘Abort, we’ve been compromised!’ but I’ve got to press on. “Let me clarify, define the parameters.”
Define the fucking parameters? Are you fucking serious right now?
The confusion doubles down on her face, but god damn is it adorable. I want to take her right now. “Parameters?” she queries.
I run my fingers over each other. “I’ve really fucked this up. Can I start over?”
She nods, hands gripping the edge of the bench tight. “Sure.”
A group of kids blasts past on their scooters, breaking my train of thought. When they clear, I’m lost again.
For fuck’s sake get it together. “Look, I know this is weird, but it’s for a good cause.”
That seems to warm her up a bit. She seems like the ‘good cause’ type, the kind of girl who’d happily answer a door-knocker and hand over her life savings if she knew it would benefit someone in need.
“This is weird, isn’t it?”
Now she smiles again, laughing, dragging a strand of hair out of her eyes, no longer hiding behind it. “Yeah, it sort of is.” When she turns her eyes towards me I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful. The clarity in them, the depth of the blue… It’s extraordinary. I know it and my cock sure as hell agrees, tightening in my pants.
A park bench ain’t a good place to get an erection, brother.
Ice broken, I soldier on. “My mother has terminal bone cancer.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” And there’s the good Samaritan I was hoping for.
“It’s fine, really, but I’ve been on deployment for a long time, almost a decade, in fact. I joined the Navy right out of high school and only just retired. I’m twenty nine, single. I suppose my mother just wants to see me happy before she… you know.”
Shannon’s not stupid. She’s piecing it together. “So you told her you were seeing someone?”
“Worse.”
I can smell the sweet jasmine scent of her. If my cock gets any harder it’s going to pop these rivets right off my jeans.
She nods with understanding. “You told her you were engaged?”
“Something like that.”
The conversation is flowing more easily now, but I’m still a long way from mission complete.
She nods quietly again. Her legs have stopped swinging. “So you want me to be like your fake fiancée?”
“Yes.” I almost add ‘I’ll pay you’ before thinking better of it.
She gives a small laugh, the soft trill of her voice music to my fucking ears. “It’s not the way I thought I’d receive my first proposal, but I can understand why you’re doing it. I mean, this isn’t some sort of prank, is it? Am I being pumped?
I almost choke at that. “Do you mean ‘punked’?” T hough I’d love to pump her, fill her up with my fat cock until she can barely breathe.
“Yeah, sorry.” Her finger flits around her ear. “I’m a real airhead sometimes.”
“I think you’re selling yourself short,” I tell her, starting to remember my charm.
“You do?”
“For sure. You’re beautiful, attractive, clearly passionate about things that matter to you. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”
Her cheeks start to light up again. She looks down. “That’s sweet, but are you sure you don’t want to ask one of my friends? My friend Jenny, for example, would definitely go for this.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want Jenny. I want you. You’re the one.”
There’s a line I never thought I’d be using.
She’s thinking it over, actually considering it. Those bright, lapis eyes meet mine. “What would I have to do exactly?”
I have a few ideas… I shift to hide my burgeoning erection. I feel like a fucking door-to-door salesman here, a scam artist. “Not much. You’d meet her, my mother, talk up my many
wonderful qualities.”
“How did you do it?”
“What’s that?”
“Propose to me?”
I hadn’t thought this far ahead. I improvise. “I suppose it was at the city zoo, kind of cheesy. I made sure they called you up to the front during one those bird shows, had a phoenix swoop down onto your shoulder and drop the ring into your hand.”
“With a handwritten note?”
“Of course.”
“You do realize phoenixes aren’t real, right?”
I shrug. “Of course.”
“How about an eagle?”
“An American eagle?” I pull my other sleeve up. “Like this guy?”
“That would work.”
“Agreed.” That smile is doing all kinds of crazy things to my crotch right now.
She sighs and my confidence slips. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Of course,” I reply. “Take your time. Think it over.”
She stands. “I will.”
I stand to meet her. Silence starts to fill in the space between us.
She points behind herself. “I guess I’ll get going then.”
It’s Swinging Dick déjà vu.
I scratch my head. “Sure. Yeah. Talk later.”
She smiles and turns, head down as she walks back into the sunlight.
I sit and watch her, my heart pumping like I’m back in battle, only this time there are no IEDs or snipers. No one’s actively trying to kill me, though Mom just might if she figures this out.
What are you going to do if she turns you down? I think.
It’s a good question. I could hire an escort, have her call herself Shannon. No, Mom would see right through it.
The funny thing is, I think Mom would actually like Shannon, the slightly off-kilter way she conducts herself so different to my own, stiff lifestyle. The whole animal-lover thing would go down well, too. Mom’s already decided to donate what little she has saved to the ASPCA when she passes.
Shannon’s the right choice. I just hope she can pull this off.
CHAPTER FIVE
SHANNON
The animal cages rattle on the backseat of Herbie, my 1969 Volkswagen Beetle. It was Dad’s car, to be precise, but I can’t seem to let it go—like many things in my life, it would seem. It breaks down constantly, with a strange clanking sound at the back that no mechanic’s been able to diagnose yet, but I love him all the same.
Beyoncé’s singing on the radio: “If you liked it, then you should have put a ring on it.”
“Oh, oh, oh.”
“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.”
Put a ring on it. It’s certainly the right soundtrack for the thoughts ping-ponging around my brain—some naughtier than others. Gabe, AKA G. I. Joe, wants me to be his fiancée.
Fake fiancée, I correct.
Stupid brain. Always ruining everything.
It’s true. I’m a sucker for a good cause, and this thing with his mother is a good cause… or at least I want to believe it is. I do want to be close to Gabe, have a relationship with him even if it isn’t exactly real. Besides, I could do with the excitement.
You can pretend you’re a Bond girl or something.
Yeah, just without the sex. And I know sex with Gabe would probably be toe-curlingly, heart-quickeningly incredible. You don’t get around with a body like that without knowing how to use it.
I imagine his fingers weaving through my hair, his hand sweeping under my back to lift me against him, fill me with his…
Enough, E. L. James.
Sadly, I’m not headed for Gabe’s bed. I’m off to work, and boy would I rather be somewhere else. Tahiti, Hawaii. Hell, any of the ‘I’s. I’ll take Illinois.
I park underground and shut down Herbie. There’s a final splutter from the exhaust.
Daryl’s brand-new Maserati is parked in the spot opposite. The number plates read ‘G 5POT.’ I’m thinking ‘DOUCHE BOI’ would work quite well.
I doubt he could find his own dick let alone the G-spot. I can’t even find it.
I greet the security guy and head up in the elevator, thanking my lucky stars it’s empty.
It’s still five minutes before I’m on the clock. I dump my things on my desk, Daryl on a call, winking at me from his seat.
I take the opportunity to head to the kitchen and fix myself a coffee. I shovel in six sugars. It’s a habit I’ve been unable to break. I could never stand bitterness as I kid. Clearly, I still can’t.
“That’s how I like it too—sweet.”
I give a little jump at the intrusion, almost spilling the coffee.
Slowly, I turn, and force the words out. “Morning, Daryl.”
He leans against the doorframe and lets his eyes fall to the second button of my blouse. “Morning, beautiful.” He nods to the coffee. “Is that how you always take it?”
“How’s that?”
I shouldn’t have asked given the smug smile on his face.
“Hot… wet,” he purrs.
I try to squeeze past him. “I should really get back to my desk.”
He blocks the door. “What’s the rush? It’s not every day you’re one-on-one with the big boss man, is it now?”
Thank the good lord it is not. I try again. “Seriously, I should—”
He stands firm. “I admire the enthusiasm, Shannon, but come on. Take a seat. Boss’s orders.”
I pull out a chair and slump into it. I quietly sip my coffee. I’m not about to make the conversation here, listen to this human chode talk about his latest property acquisition or how he benched two-fifty at the gym this morning.
He leans right over the table, eyes refusing to lift from my chest, actually dropping even lower to gaze over my legs. I’m going to need baby wipes after this.
“So, how goes things, Shannon?” he begins. “What are you doing for fun these days? I feel like we don’t really get to connect, you know?”
It’s no accident, I want to reply.
I clear my throat, squeezing the coffee cup harder than I should. “Things are fine.”
“You run, don’t you? A body that tight doesn’t come without work. I should know.”
Looking over Daryl, I don’t think the Mr. Universe trophy is in danger. “I don’t run, no.”
“Could have fooled me,” he shrugs. “Pole-dancing, perhaps?”
He thinks he’s being clever, smiling.
“No,” I state firmly.
He throws his hands out. “Come on, open up to Uncle Daryl.”
And this just gets creepier and creepier.
“What about guys?” he continues. “You seeing anyone? Or is it a ‘she’ I need to be worried about?”
I’m not even going to touch that one. I’d slap him, but that would be animal abuse.
He’s asked me out before. Thankfully, I’ve always managed to squirm out of it.
He directs his hands to his crotch, legs spread wide. “You know you want a piece of this.”
It comes to me in a blinding flash of brilliance.
The answer.
“I’d have to check with my fiancé first,” I inform the world’s biggest boner-head.
I wish I had a camera the look of shock on his face is so pronounced. It’s glorious.
He straightens up, actually exhales like I’ve just announced something’s died.
Yeah, your chances of getting within a hundred square miles of my pants.
He tries to formulate a reply, but stutters, unsure what to say.
I’m happy to fill him in. “Oh, didn’t I tell you I was engaged?”
He’s still reeling, the A-bomb I’ve just dropped continuing to send out shockwaves. “No.”
It’s probably the shortest sentence he’s ever uttered. He manages to regain some sliver of composure. “Who’s the lucky guy?” His eyes shift to my hand, and for a second I’m not sure why until I realize he’s looking for the ring.
Crapola.
I slide my hand away under the table
. Still, my confidence is building. “Actually, he’s a Navy SEAL.
Boom! Payload deployed.
I can almost see poor Daryl’s penis shriveling up like an autumn leaf. “Oh?”
The poor guy’s been reduced to single syllables. “I guess it just happened,” I continue, on a roll now. “But I suppose if you took more interest in anything other than my appearance you’d know that, wouldn’t you?”
It’s bold, perhaps the most alpha thing I’ve ever uttered. I think I’ve gone too far, sure to be kicked out on my ass, but Daryl’s pride wins out. He smiles, shrugging it off. He gives a small laugh that sounds awfully like how Herbie starts in the morning. “I suppose so.”
I stand and drop my coffee, still half full, into the bin, striding past Daryl on the way back to my desk. “Better get to it.”
“Yes,” he says, standing and trying to regain something of his authority again. “I need you to get straight into those Saxon files.”
I’m smiling so hard the corners of my mouth hurt on my way back to my desk. I feel like I’ve just won the lottery.
You have. The ass-kicking lottery, plus you’re engaged to the dictionary definition of a man.
My smile slips as it starts to sink in. It’s done. By enacting my revenge I’ve inadvertently agreed to Gabe’s request. There’s no turning back now, no retreat. I’d never live it down.
I put it aside for the time being and dig into the files. Daryl remains quiet in his office, his door closed, not a single ‘Hey, beautiful’ sent my way. I don’t feel his eyes boring through my back.
It’s a thing of beauty.
Monica, one of the other PAs, bails me up at lunch. “Congratulations, by the way.”
So everyone knows then.
“Thanks,” I reply.
She leans against the kitchen counter while I fork through my salad. “You sure kept that one quiet.”
Ha! If only she knew. “I like to keep my personal life private.”
“Sure,” she nods. “But a Navy SEAL? That’s badass. I don’t know how you kept it such a secret.”
“What’s that?”
“Your engagement, silly! I mean, you don’t even have a photo of him on your desk.”
She’s got a point. “I don’t like to brag.”
“Well, brag you should. Clearly. Is it true then?”
“What’s that?” I ask, the picture of naivety.
