by Elyse Riggs
I’m here every morning. This is my space. The question is what the hell is she doing here? This is my turf, it’s supposed to be my quiet corner of the kitchen. Twice in one day running into the resort’s biggest gossip seems to be too much of a coincidence. “Vivian,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
Instead of looking annoyed, Vivian’s face bursts into excited glee when she sees me. Oh, this is not going to be good at all.
“Kaylee,” she says, breathless. Then she stops to take a few breaths.
I wait, arms crossed.
“There’s a guy in the hallway outside of the Bakery asking for you. Right now. I think he’s one of those Covingtons.”
At the mention of the word Covington, her eyes get two times larger than normal. It’s disturbing. “Did I mention he asked for you by name?” She raises an eyebrow at me, like that’s going to make me tell her everything.
Back off, lady. You don’t know me like that. “No,” I answer sarcastically, “you didn’t mention that part.”
My first thought is so what if he asked for me by name, what business is it of yours? But my second thought is I can’t give any more ammunition to the resort rumor mill.
This is the perfect opportunity to calmly stop her in her tracks. I lean in closer to her, as if we’re sharing a secret. “Vivian. My name is on the directory as the head of the Bakery. With my picture.”
“Oh yeah,” she says, her expression falling into a disappointed state that is very satisfying.
I decide to finish her off. No mercy. “And Ralph said these Covingtons have a sweet tooth, right?” I shrug. “So he’s probably here to demand a bunch of weird, custom orders because the elites hate to order off of the common menu. Am I right? Eh?” I make an effort to smooth things over with her. “And I’m sure you have a ton of prep work to do, so I won’t keep you from it.”
“Well, be sure not to keep him waiting. If he complains, Ralph will hit the roof. You know what he’s like during these special events.”
She walks off looking satisfyingly annoyed now that a very promising avenue of gossip has dried up. Hopefully, she’ll find the scent of another trail soon and leave me alone.
“I’ll take care of it right away,” I say as I head back. I’m pretty sure that it’s Jellybean waiting out there, and I’m not in any hurry to see him again. I still haven’t finished thinking through the events of this morning. Fear grips my chest and my stomach does a loop. I lean against a nearby counter.
“Kaylee!” Vivian screeches at me.
I turn back icily. She’s still here? “What?”
“He’s that way,” she points out to the hallway where my bakery has a window display that is open to foot traffic right off of the main lobby.
“Fine,” I say and trudge off.
I make my way back, sure to check behind me to see that Vivian is gone before I exit out to the display case that faces the general public. I smooth my white coat down with my hands and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
As expected, a perfectly groomed Jellybean stands in front of my display case. Now he’s in a different suit and pressed shirt. I instantly decide that I like him better with his hair messed up and his guard down.
I assume he’s here to talk about our arrangement, and I have some questions about that too. But as I slip quietly into public view, I see that he is engrossed in my display case. Seriously, he’s practically drooling on it. “Can I help you?” I ask sweetly.
His face snaps up to mine and he looks relieved. “Coconut!” he exclaims. “I mean, Kaylee. Thank goodness. I was looking all over for you.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Then you remembered that I told you I work here, right? And looked me up in the resort directory?”
“About that,” he says, crossing the distance between us. Well, as much as he can with the glass counter in his way.
He indicates with his head that I should come around to the outside of the display to meet him. Judging by recent history, it probably has something to do with privacy.
Apparently, every single conversation with Covingtons is confidential. I probably should have asked what the hell I was getting myself into this morning, but that ship already sailed. I said I’d do it, and I’ll do it. If nothing else, I am a woman of my word.
With a sigh, I step forward through the little hip-height swinging door and around the counter to meet him. I shake his hand, which throws him off his game. That is enjoyable in itself, but it’s mainly for show in case Vivian is spying on us. “Hi. I’m Kaylee. I assume your name isn’t really jellybean.”
“Oh yes,” he says as his lips curl up into a smile. “Chase Covington.”
And there it is. Of course. A Covington.
“You didn’t mention that this morning,” I chide.
“You didn’t ask,” he answers quickly.
He leans in and I notice that he smells like heaven. Being this close to him, my heart rate picks up. Whatever musk he put on after I left this morning makes me want to, well, do what I did to him last night all over again.
Fight it, Kaylee. Remember that this whole arrangement is fake. Don’t get attached. Sure, he’s gorgeous and rich. But that’s exactly why he’s going to fly away when the weekend is over.
“What can I help you with, Chase?” I ask, trying out his real name. It feels weird.
After a quick glance around, he gets down on one knee.
I feel my chest tighten. What the fuck is he doing?
He pulls a small jewelry box out of his pocket. He snaps the jewelry box open and inside lies a gold ring with a diamond the size of a strawberry. “Kaylee Love, will you marry me” he asks.
I hear a smattering of applause and awwww’s now in the hallway from random passersby as Chase is attracting attention. Too much attention. Which is exactly what I don’t want him to do.
“Chase!” I scream and grab him by the arm. My plan is to drag him off into a private corner and kick him repeatedly. This is not how I want it to go down. It feels like his fake engagement is mocking all of my real engagement hopes and dreams.
It’s one thing to make a deal in a hotel suite bathroom, it’s quite another to humiliate me in public and remind me that I have now had more fake engagements than real ones.
But then I look around at all of the concerned strangers. Shit. The only way to get rid of them is to placate them.
“I will,” I say with the best fake romance smile I can muster. I accept the ring box to more applause and bat my eyelashes all around.
I give it another thirty seconds. Then I grab him and pull him behind the corner and into a nook out of public view. It’s a corner that we employees use frequently for gossip and privacy. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“You didn’t have a ring.” He looks confused. “This whole thing will be a lot more convincing if you’re wearing a ring.”
I punch his arm, hard. “You could have given it to me later. What part of no friends and coworkers finding out did you not understand?”
“Most of it.”
“Why are you here right now?” I ask him.
“Oh, to let you know the paparazzi have arrived. They’ll be at the beach in half an hour.” His expression is so serious that I have to fight the urge to laugh out loud.
“Okay,” I say, not sure exactly where the emergency is. He’s waiting not so patiently for a response. “I’m sorry, I’m just not understanding what it is you want me to do? I accept your fake proposal. Now what?”
“Well, a new fiancé is blood in the water for the photographers, so we’ll have to make an appearance.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Together. As a couple. You can sneak away from work for a little while, right? This is a really big deal. We need more proof that we’re a couple. And that means photographs.”
“You’re talking about the paparazzi, right? Since when are tabloids proof of anything?” I ask.
“Photos are proof. Doesn’t matter where they come from,” he insists.
I smirk at him. “Wait, so, your plan involves the two of us cavorting on the beach in front of photographers until your company believes you’re a responsible adult in a relationship?” I’m really just stalling, and hopefully getting under his skin in the process.
But seriously, getting off work is a problem for me. I just started preparations for the day. It’s the weekend when the resort is busiest. And with Covingtons in town, Ralph expects me to make even more pastries than usual and I know he’ll be checking in on me later.
“It’s not that easy, Chase,” I hiss at him. It still feels weird not to call him Jellybean. “You Covingtons here at the resort is a big deal and my boss is going to be freaking out about everything. It’s a really bad time for me to be gone.”
“I need this, Kaylee. Please. You agreed.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. I did agree. “Fine. I’ll ask somebody to cover. But I can’t be gone too long.” Then I think about it for a moment. “Wait, if the paparazzi get a bunch of pictures of us, they’ll figure out it’s me, Chase.”
“I hired security to keep them far enough away so that won’t happen, okay?”
I guess that sounds okay. I nod.
“Great,” he says. His shoulders visibly relax. A relieved smile spreads across his face and the dimple reappears. At least one of us is happy.
It also means I have to be gone from work even longer now because I have to go home and change into a bathing suit. Then a weird thought hits me. “You’re wearing a bathing suit to the beach, right? And not that suit?”
“Funny,” he says. “I’ll go change. We’ll meet back at my room soon, okay?” He turns to leave.
“Because I don’t care who you are,” I shout out after him. “Suits are not appropriate beachwear!”
I watch him walk away and shake my head. Then I take a moment to stare at the small jewelry box in my hand. I take a few long breaths to work up the courage to open it again.
When I do, the gigantic diamond sparkles like it’s an entire constellation in a box. It’s gorgeous and way over the top. It makes me feel giddy and sad and mad all at the same time. I slip it on and am surprised to find that it fits. How does he know my size?
I stare at it for a few more minutes, then I take it off and put it back into the box. I put the box into my chef jacket pocket. It’s too big for that pocket, but it will have to do until I get my purse. Oh well, here goes nothing.
Chapter Eleven
Kaylee
I rush to my apartment and pull every bathing suit I own out of the drawer. Then I put them all on my bed for inspection.
In the end, the only bathing suit that looks like it screams lifestyles of the rich and cavorting is a red sequined bikini that Fi got for me ages ago in a misguided attempt to get me out of my shell.
It didn’t work. That particular style has never really been my thing. But it’s perfect for today. Alright, I say out loud in an attempt to psych myself up, let the beach cavorting begin.
I throw the bathing suit and some sunscreen in my beach bag and then walk the four blocks from my apartment back to the resort.
As I approach the front door of the building, panic strikes me. I got a friend to cover for me, but I lied about the reason. I had to. Needing to go to an appointment or something is one thing.
But if people see me sashaying around the resort I’m playing hooky from while I’m supposed to be working it will be bad. The whole thing seems like a recipe for disaster.
In the end, I decide my best cloaking device is probably to lean into it and act full tourist. I whoosh through the front entrance door into the gorgeous main lobby. It’s breathtaking inside with a gorgeous marble etched floor, giant crystal chandelier, decorative waterfall, and expensive sculptures everywhere.
The dolphin sculpture is my favorite. To be honest, I haven’t been in the lobby since I applied for the job. Ever since, I use the much less impressive employee entrance.
The lobby helps in one respect, it puts me in the perfect frame of mind for a billionaire beach tryst. Suddenly I feel like a tropical, pastry-chef, Cinderella on her way to a ball. I even start to enjoy myself. That is until I see Vivian headed across the lobby floor toward concierge. What the fuck? Doesn’t she ever work?
I look away and hold my breath as she approaches. Her short heels make an annoying staccato noise on the marble floors as she makes her way across the room.
When I finally peek to see if she recognized me, I can see that she’s almost to concierge and then through the door. She didn’t even give me a second look. That went well, although to be fair, she isn’t expecting me to be here.
Concierge. That’s probably where she gets all of her gossip from. They know pretty much everything. Makes sense.
I pass through the lobby without anybody else even glancing up at me. I may as well have been wearing a disguise.
Chapter Twelve
Kaylee
I make my way up to Chase’s room carrying my beach bag, which has the ring and the bikini in it among other things.
I knock on the door and he opens it quickly. I’m wearing jeans and a tank top. Chase is already dressed in loose fitting, bright-orange board shorts and sandals. And nothing else. I inhale as I admire his naked chest.
And then, all of a sudden, nothing can keep my eyeline above the equator. Which is crazy. I’ve already seen him naked. Well, it was pretty dark last night. I haven’t really seen him, seen him. And I guess I’m curious. What girl doesn’t want to check out her fake fiancé’s package in board shorts?
The answer is to the left and very impressive. I force my eyes back up and find the dimple in his cheek and a smirk on his lips. “Sorry, a girl can’t help but look.”
“I get it,” he says with a hungry look on his face that makes my stomach clench and my pulse take off. “As long as I’m also allowed to peek. Please tell me you have a bathing suit in that bag. Especially after your whole dramatic speech about appropriate beach attire.”
“I guess I have that coming.”
“Hey, I have the perfect lounge chair picked out,” he says excitedly. “Concierge is setting it up right now, front and center.”
“Front and center, eh?” I point to my beach bag. “Don’t worry. I’m well versed in how to make people jealous on the beach.”
“That’s not exactly what we’re doing, but close enough. Now we should discuss strategy.”
“Not interested,” I say, heading to his bedroom to change. He follows me. I throw the yellow beach bag with red handles onto the bed.
Realizing that he followed me, I turn and take a step toward him. Then I get on my tiptoes so that we are nearly face to face.
He leans his head down toward mine. I don’t know what he thinks is going to happen here, but my plan is to resist repeating last night at all costs, no matter how tempted I am.
“Remember this morning. From here on out, this is nothing more than a business transaction. I’m helping you and you’re helping me, and we’re hiding the truth from everybody. Fake fiancé, remember? That means no actual fiancé activities.”
“But what if we’ve already done fiancé activities?” he objects.
“That was a one-time thing and will not be repeated,” I say as I cross the room and pull the red sequined bikini out of my bag.
“Oh, by the way, how did you know that ring was going to fit?”
“I did the pinky thing.”
“What pinky thing?” I ask.
He follows me over to the bed. “There’s an old rule of thumb, or pinky, as the case may be. If the woman’s ring finger fits the man’s pinky, they’re a match. It’s all I had to go by on short notice. So you’re saying it fit?”
“It fits perfectly,” I admit. He’s way too proud of himself. And aww. That’s really kind of sweet. With that mystery solved, I shoo him out and shut the bedroom door. Presumably to change.
Only I decide to take a couple of extra minutes to poke around before getting into my bikini. It’s impossible no
t to be nosy. I mean, a girl can’t be too careful these days who she gets fake engaged to.
I take off my clothes, folding them and placing them on his bed. Then I pull on the bikini. I cross into the gigantic bathroom to get a look because it has a better mirror. As expected, the bathing suit is way, way over the top. Red with sequins, and barely more than a string bikini. Good thing I had a wax recently, or I’d be in trouble right now.
Oh yeah, back to snooping. A quick rummage in his bathroom cabinet reveals nothing more than toiletry products that probably cost a year of my salary and a bottle of Tylenol.
Boring. I go back to the bed, take out my sheer pullover, and put it on. Then I rummage through my bag to find the ring. It’s so sparkly. I put it on and admire how shiny it is and how well it fits. It’s more than everything I ever wanted, but it still feels strange to be wearing an engagement ring. Especially since the engagement itself isn’t real.
I break out of the diamond ring trance I find myself in. Then I decide to rifle through his nightstand.
Huh, there is something interesting in there. Something in a pouch. I open it up. Inside there’s a small device that’s unfamiliar and appears to be battery operated. I switch it on just as he knocks and enters the room in rapid succession.
“Rude,” I say. “I could have been naked.”
“I’ve seen you naked already, remember?” Then he catches me with the device in my hand. “Are you snooping?” His smile is so big now that a second dimple threatens to erupt. “Having fun with my beard trimmer? I can have one sent up to you if you like.”
I feel my cheeks turn crimson and out of reflex, hide it behind my back. Then I realize that’s not the power move I think it is. Especially since it’s still on and buzzing. “Fine, I was snooping.”
His smile fades and it’s replaced by a look of raw hunger as his eyes roam my body through the sheer pullover. He crosses the room until he’s so close that I can inhale his scent. “Oh, I love that bathing suit.”
