Date: 2022-12-13 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Romance; Contemporary; Contemporary Romance; Humor
Description: From USA Today bestselling author of His Banana comes a brand new romantic comedy about a recklessly charming billionaire in need of a fake girlfriend. What do you do when you find out your boyfriend cheated? Throw up on a gorgeous stranger. Obviously. Rock bottom, nice to meet you. Dean Slater–the guy wearing my breakfast–got cheated on, too. And we have a perfectly stupid plan to make sure it never happens again. If everyone thinks we’re together, we can both stay off the market. No matchmaking friends and family. No more messy breakups. We’ll keep things long distance, never be in the same

THE BIG FAKE

PENELOPE BLOOM

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

2. Pearl

3. Dean

4. Pearl

5. Pearl

6. Pearl

7. Dean

8. Pearl

9. Dean

10. Pearl

11. Dean

12. Pearl

13. Dean

14. Pearl

15. Dean

16. Pearl

17. Pearl

18. Dean

19. Pearl

20. Dean

21. Pearl

22. Dean

23. Pearl

24. Dean

25. Pearl

26. Dean

27. Pearl

28. Dean

29. Pearl

30. Dean

31. Pearl

32. Pearl

33. Dean

34. Dean

35. Pearl

36. Pearl

37. Dean

38. Pearl

39. Pearl

40. Pearl

41. Dean

42. Pearl

43. Pearl

44. Epilogue - Dean

45. Don’t Forget To Review!

46. Greyson (Once Upon A Bet Sneak Peak)

47. Harper (Once Upon A Bet Sneak Peak)

48. Suggested Reading Order

1

2

PEARL

Some days, there was just a feeling in my chest that everything was about to go very, very wrong. You could call it a form of “ESPN,” as my cousin would say–like a telepathic connection to the future. Maybe it was just my supreme intellect collecting subtle clues and assembling them in my subconscious. Then again, it could’ve been the text from my friend at work begging me not to come in.

Yeah, it was probably the text.

I rode the elevator up to my floor, fingers twitching against the hem of my coat and feet tapping. My heart was hammering. Thump. Thump. Thump. Big, punching beats that practically rattled my bones.

I slid my eyes up to the row of numbers at the top of the old-fashioned elevator. A red arrow slowly slid from left to right, working its way past four, then six, and inching ever closer to ten.

I had no idea what was waiting for me on the tenth floor. Whatever it was, Marley was definitely trying to convince me not to come in today, so it had to be bad.

Now, me freaking out wasn’t exactly national news worthy material. I had a little bit of a known habit when it came to being overly anxious. If I saw a friend walking the same direction toward me down a city street, I’d go into defcon four over the decision to wave, smile, or pretend I didn’t notice them. A confrontation at work? That was grounds for calling in sick. All week. Even rain freaked me out sometimes, because I imagined all the gunk floating in the air getting a public transit ride via a drop of water straight into my eyeball. I wasn’t sure if that’s how you got gonorrhea, but I didn’t see the reason to take chances.

With a little professional help, I managed to transform myself from a constant mess to only a mess when I had an excuse. The problem? There was always an excuse to freak out if you looked for it. Once, I’d read about a little fish that swims up the tip of men’s penises. I think it was local to Africa, but if you really thought about it, what was to stop one of them from hitching a urethra-taxi over to the States? How did I know it wasn’t in there with a lover, ready to colonize our waters? And why would it only be the penis?

But my therapist would tell me to control what I could control. Take deep breaths. Convince my body we were calm and it would take my lead. Except I was about to step into some real shit. I should be on high alert, shouldn’t I? I should be ready to use every ounce of martial arts skills I didn’t have to attack the problem.

I put a hand over my chest just to make sure I wasn’t imagining the racing heart. Nope.

One of my co-workers was at the front of the elevator. He must’ve heard my heavy breathing. He turned around, half-leaning and giving me that pursed lip, eyebrows raised look that said–Mondays, huh?

I tried to smile back at him, but in my current state, I think I mostly just showed my teeth as if the dentist had asked me to open up for his tools.

He gave me a confused double take, then rushed out as soon as the doors opened on the tenth floor.

I felt clammy all over and I was definitely sweating. It wasn’t a polite, dignified level of sweat, either. I was pretty sure my white button down blouse with the puffy, super cute sleeves was now pit stained and my nose was definitely beading with perspiration.

All of my nerves had been sparked roughly thirty minutes ago. I was minding my own business, as I tend to do. I had my morning coffee in hand–actually, I don’t drink coffee, but that’s between you and me. I get a coffee cup and fill it with soda. People judge when they see you sipping on a Diet Coke, so I found it easier to just sneak my sodas in coffee cups. Sue me. Actually, please don’t do that–I was never more than one thread away from broke at the best of times.

Anyway, I’d bopped out on the streets of Manhattan–a city I still couldn’t quite believe I lived in. Like many people, I’d fantasized about living and working in New York for years. I’d imagined it would be romantic and exciting and life-changing. Honestly, it was all of those things. It also stressed me to high hell, but I was getting better about that. A text came through on my phone from Marley, a friend from Pollard who works in finance. I’m paraphrasing here, but the exchange went something like this:

Marley: Are you coming in today?

Pearl: Yep. Why? Are my clocks wrong? Am I late? Is Jonas looking for me?

Marley: No, no, and no. I just thought you could use a day off. I can run it by Jonas for you, if you want.

Pearl: Why would I take today off? I’m already dressed. I’ve got my coffee. I’m wearing one of my favorite outfits.

Marley: So take your coffee, cute outfit, and go chill in the park. It’s beautiful and warm out there today.

Pearl: Why does it feel like you’re trying to get me to stay away from work?

Pearl: Is there something I shouldn’t see at work?

Pearl: I’M FREAKING OUT! WHAT IS GOING ON AT WORK?!

Marley: Just skip today, Pearl. Please. Trust me.

And that was where the conversation ended. I was no detective, but all of my investigative senses were tingling. Hard. The ESPN was blaring at full volume, and something was absolutely amiss.

Pollard Marketing composed the 8th floor through the 12th floor of the Metford building in the Upper East End. Everybody on my floor worked in design.

Every single person on the floor was gathered around the cork board right outside the elevator. I had to nudge and push my way through the crowd. First thing in the morning, I was five foot six in the morning–you lose a little height throughout the day as you squish down and compress, and you can trust me on that because I’ve measured it. I could barely see anything except the suit-clad backs of my co-workers from my low vantage point.

“Excuse me,” I said, heart still banging away like it was auditioning for The Blue Man Group.

Everybody was murmuring and whispering. There was excited chatter like they were gathered around a dead body. Was somebody dead?

Was I dead? Was this how it happened when you died? You go back in time and show up to work to watch everybody gossiping over your corpse? No, Pearl. That was the anxiety talking, and my anxiety had no business talking. My anxiety was like the constantly high friend whose paranoia made them wonder if the house plants were bugged with listening devices and thought the mailman was their stalker because he drove by the house every day, rain, snow, or shine. It was a nearly constant voice of irrational fears I had to work to keep at bay. If that didn’t work. I needed to simply ignore it.

The last two men finally parted enough for me to see what the fuss was about. The entire corkboard was plastered with the same black and white image. Little cheerily colored thumb tacks were stuck at the top of each page. Only one paper was different–slathered with thick red text almost like it was written in lipstick.

I squinted, moving even closer until I was in front of the crowd. It took my brain a second to piece together what I was seeing. It looked like a woman was sitting on the copy machine bare ass naked. But that wasn’t the worst of it. There were two large, masculine hands planted on either side of her ass and… Yes. That was a pair of balls between her legs. It wasn’t completely clear from the image, but I would’ve bet my grandma’s knitting collection I knew what I was looking at.

That was P in the V right there. Sure as day. I could see the squished, sad little sack. There was a hint of shaft. There was some more smooshed up stuff right there in the valley. Yep. I didn’t even need ESPN for this one.

For a split second, I felt relief. This was what Marley was worried about me seeing. She probably thought with my tendency to overreact and freak out, I’d lose my mind when I saw this. But sex? Come on, Marley. I was a big girl–not literally, because I was more like a below average height girl, but emotionally? Big. Very big.

So what was…

And then I saw it. The tattoos on the fingers. The splayed hands of the man next to the naked ass. There were letters inked into the pad of each finger. “S.U.C.K.I.T.D.U.D.ES.” And yes, the last finger had two letters on it, because the owner of the tattoo had been drunk and thought it was worth breaking the pattern of one letter per finger to make sure all the dudes were told to suck it, not just the one.

Why do I know this, you ask? That’s easy. Because those stupid hands belonged to my stupid boyfriend. My former boyfriend, Eric.

My heart had been pounding a steady, anxious rhythm, but now it shifted from hard to fast. I could feel it in my ears and my eyes. I looked at those big, angry red letters at the bottom of the pages.

“Fuck you, Eric. You said you loved me. I hope you love losing your job, asshole. -Em.”

I wasn’t sure if Em was the woman whose ass was on display, but I had a sinking feeling it wasn’t. Em was probably the other woman Eric was cheating on me with. The other woman he was saying “I love you” to.

It felt like I was floating a few inches above my body, almost like watching myself from the outside. I drifted back through the crowd, eyes glazed over. I kept going until I reached an empty area with two long, padded benches arranged in an “L” shape. I plopped down and stared forward.

The word “asshole” kept repeating in my mind, and not just because Eric was an asshole. It wasn’t because that was the word his other, other woman had used, either. It was because that image had so perfectly captured that woman’s asshole. It was right there in black and white, plain for everybody to see. And somehow, that felt appropriate. That was life, wasn’t it? We dressed things up and made them out to be romantic. We looked over flaws and faults. But when we really zoomed in and paid attention, everything had its own puckered, dirty little secret. The boss who isn’t as well-off as he pretends. The lifestyle social influencer family that fights every time the cameras were off.

I guess my dirty little secret was that my boyfriend was going balls deep behind my back at work.

Welcome to the asshole club, Pearl.

3

DEAN

I was a man who paid attention to detail. Rigorous attention. And when it came to the bodies of women I enjoyed, I was on another level of focus. I knew every curve, freckle, and mole. I knew that weird little spot where their skin didn’t wrinkle because of a birth mark. I knew if they didn’t moisturize their feet before bed they’d wake up with crocodile fins. I liked the details, and I learned them like it was my job.

So when I saw the pictures hanging up on the tenth floor, I knew. I knew it deep, deep down.

I wandered a little closer, ignoring the crowd of people gathered and whispering about the pictures. I raised a hand, tracing the pattern of dots on the underside of the woman’s ass, which was flattened and plastered to the glass top of a copy machine. I’d called that constellation of freckles on her left asscheek “the horny runner.” If you tilted your head a little, it kind of looked like a man running toward her ass crack, which had been greatly amusing at the time.

Right now? Not so much. Because in all my attention to detail, I’d never noticed a pair of balls between her legs.

Conclusion? Those balls belonged to another. Another man’s balls between the legs of my girlfriend. I wasn’t great with math, but if my numbers checked out, that meant I was officially single.

A few emotions considered taking hold in my brain. Jealousy. Anger. Despair. But they all flitted right on through, not doing much more than glancing through the windows and passing by. Instead, the emotion that finally sank in was just disappointment, and not even in Annabelle and her freckles or the balls between her legs–and for the record, a smaller pair than mine. Yes, that matters.

I was mostly just disappointed that it had happened again. Sure, it wasn’t always cheating, but it was always something. Something always came along and led to the untimely detonation of my romantic relationships. More and more, I was starting to wonder if that something was me. After all, I was the only common variable, wasn’t I?

I sighed, looked at the flowers in my hand, and chucked them in the trash. Too little, too late.

I made my way through the crowd, vaguely wondering if Annabelle was even at the office today. Chances were, she’d booked it for home when she saw the pictures on the corkboard. I supposed that meant she was canceling our breakfast in her office plans.

I found a pair of benches in the corner and saw a woman sitting on them, staring ahead with a blank, haunted look in her eyes.

A little voice in the corner of my mind advised me to leave it alone. I was like a dog who just had his bone taken away, but there was another interesting, shapely bone sitting right there. Except my bones were always being taken away. What was the point in even trying to replace them? Maybe I’d be a happier dog if I just stopped eating bones all together.

But I told that little voice I wasn’t a dog, and I could talk to a bone without wanting to put my mouth on it. Probably, at least. Besides, this bone looked like it needed some comforting, and what better way was there to comfort myself than comforting someone else?

I plopped down on the bench beside her, tilting my head her way and drawing my brows together. “Let me guess. You tried the food in the cafeteria? Don’t tell me it was the sushi.”

She kept staring.

I scooted a little closer. “Hey,” I said, dropping the charming act. “You okay?”

She stirred, almost surprised by my voice. She looked over at me and barely seemed to see me. Oddly enough, that was kind of nice. Somebody who wasn’t eager to please me, for a change.

“Sorry,” she said. “Weird morning.”

She was blonde with long-ass hair that was in an Amazon-like braided ponytail thrown over her shoulder. She had tan skin with a speckling of freckles across the bridge of her nose and big, blue eyes. Her nips were a natural, deep shade of reddish pink and she had the perfect posture of a woman who danced or did yoga religiously.

Yeah, I noticed. I already mentioned I paid attention to detail, like the way her right index finger was idly scratching a nervous little white patch in her dark blue jeans. It was a well-worn spot, and I had a feeling most of her clothes would have a similar worn spot in the same area. I also noticed how she wore little snowman earrings in red and green even though we were still four months out from the holidays. One of those people, I thought.

I felt my own stupid brain working in its old, disappointing ways. That was the word of the day for me. Disappointment. Because it was starting to feel more and more like a stupid little circle I was running in. Meet a girl, find a new and exciting way for things to end, repeat. And where was I now? I’d wandered right over to the first beautiful woman I saw and started trying to talk instead of even processing what I’d seen on that fucking cork board.

Maybe I should’ve listened to that little voice in my head. Then again, what did a little voice know?

“Weird is the right word,” I said, ignoring my own internal warning bells. They were telling me to walk right the fuck out of Pollard Marketing, forget about Annabelle, and swear off women for a couple years. Things would be simpler. Wasn’t simple boring, though? “What’s with the tattoo on that guy’s fingers? I mean, put aside how dumb it is to get ‘Suck it Dudes’ on your fingers, but why go plural? He could’ve had a neat one letter per finger situation.” I was hoping to get at least a smile out of her. For some reason, the look on this girl’s face was tugging at something deep inside me. For once, it wasn’t the string that led to my cock, either. Maybe that string was connected somewhere in the vicinity of my heart? Probably not, but maybe.

The corner of her lip twitched, but it was more of a bitter smile than amused. “He was drunk. And yeah, I always thought it was a really stupid tattoo. Not as stupid as the girl who believed that guy actually cared about her though, I guess.”

Oh, shit. “Those balls were your boyfriend’s?” I asked. Stupid, Dean. I should’ve said hands. Bringing up the balls was hardly the most sensitive way to approach this, especially because she had to be aware how unusually small and unimpressive they were. “The ass was my girlfriend, actually,” I said. “So we have that in common, at least. Both our significant others decided to screw us by screwing each other.”

She frowned. “How do you know it was your girlfriend? I mean, you couldn’t see much. Other than…”

“The freckles,” I said. “They form a pretty distinct pattern. One I recognized.”

She nodded absently.

“I’m Dean, by the way. Dean Slater.”

She barely looked up. “Pearl.”

“Just Pearl? Like Madonna?”

Pearl’s big blue eyes lifted to mine in a dry, that’s not even close to funny, kind of way. I couldn’t help but grin at the way she was glaring, and my grin seemed to finally break through something in her.

She lowered her eyes and snorted a quick, little laugh and flashed a smile at her knees. “Pearl Moreno.”

“So, uh. Did you see this coming?”

“You mean someone pestering me while I try to process the fact that my boyfriend–former boyfriend…” she trailed off, eyes almost glazing over. She blinked, then continued. “Look, I’m not trying to be rude. But, I feel like I just–” She stood and put a hand to her mouth, eyebrows pulling together.

I got up. She was short, so I had to bend a little to look into her eyes. “Hey, you okay? You look like you might–”

It happened so quickly I didn’t even move. One minute, her big blue eyes were looking up into mine, full of panic. The next, my shirt felt warm and wet, sticking to my chest.

I looked down and saw… yeah. “Well, now I don’t need to ask if you like eggs,” I said.

She turned a literal shade of green and hit me with another round, this time splashing over my shoes.

* * *

I considered trying to salvage my soiled clothes, but opted to toss them in the bathroom trash can, along with my shoes. It was a few thousand dollars’ worth of fabric, but I wasn’t going to sweat that. There were certain things you could wash out of your clothes, but no amount of detergent could erase the full horror of what they’d seen. I wondered if people were a little bit like that, too.

We got shit on, puked on, and roughed up. Then we’d do our best to move on and start fresh, but we carried a little bit of those memories inside us, just beneath the surface. If that was the case, I should’ve probably chucked myself right in the trash with my soiled clothes.

I’d changed into my workout gear, which had thankfully been tucked in my bag. Small victories, I guessed.

I was washing my hands in the sink, scrubbing as I ran back through the last few minutes. I couldn’t help grinning. What a fucking mess. First, I found out my girlfriend cheated on me in front of a few dozen people. Next, I failed at charming a beautiful woman so badly she lost her breakfast all over my clothes. Staying away from relationships would be a whole lot easier if women stopped falling over themselves to date me. Maybe this was a good thing.

“Believe it or not,” I called out over the sound of running water. She was waiting outside the door to my left. “This is a first for me.”

“I’m so sorry.” Pearl’s voice came muffled through the bathroom door.

I shook my hands off, saw there were no paper towels–of course there weren’t–then stepped out of the bathroom.

I nearly bumped my chest into Pearl’s nose. She jumped back.

“Sorry,” she said. Her eyes ran down me and she looked back up. “Oh, thank God you had extra clothes. But those look like workout clothes.” The pace of her words started to increase, like they were a force gaining momentum until even she couldn’t stop them. “You probably don’t pack fresh underwear to work out. But, I guess it’s not the end of the world if a guy doesn’t wear underwear. You could be totally fine without it. If that’s what you did, I mean. Like if you aren’t wearing underwear right now…”

A lopsided smile formed on my lips. “Uh, well.”

“Shit,” Pearl held her palms up, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “I’m so sorry. I ramble when I’m nervous. Throwing up on a hot stranger isn’t exactly–” She scrunched her face in frustration, visibly trying to force herself to calm. She lowered her hands and seemed to take a deep breath. Finally, she opened her eyes again. “I didn’t mean to say hot. Not because you aren’t, but because that would be weird. And please don’t respond to any of that. Actually, can we just pretend I stopped at ‘sorry’?”

“Sure,” I said. Except my dick wasn’t so ready to forget. That guy had a memory like an iron trap, and he promised he wasn’t going to forget where this gorgeous woman’s brain had gone. Right below the belt. “Well,” I said. “I should probably get out of here. I have a meeting upstairs in an hour or two, anyway.”

“Um, yeah. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do? Those clothes didn’t look cheap. I hope they’re not ruined. I’d offer to pay you back for them, but I’m not sure I could afford to. I could do you favors instead, or something. I mean, not like sexual favors,” she said, starting to speak fast again. “Not that you would ask me to. And I don’t do that kind of thing, for the record. I could get your dry cleaning or walk your dog or whatever.” Pearl’s face was bright enough red that people might have mistaken her for an “exit” sign if there was a fire. Frankly, it was adorable.

“They’ll be fine,” I said. “And it’s okay. Really. But hey, if you know anybody in the market for a fake boyfriend, let me know. I’m not looking forward to my friends all trying to set me up out of sympathy after this shitshow.”

She stared. “A fake boyfriend? What even is that?”

I circled my hand. “You know. Like someone who you can pretend to date. Maybe you’re trying to ditch a guy at a bar, so you ask this random guy to say he’s your boyfriend. Or whatever. But I could sure as hell use a fake girlfriend, or my friends are going to be trying to force feed a woman down my throat in about twelve hours.”

Pearl was standing there with her hands clasped in front of her. She had on blue jeans that hugged her curves well. She was built like a woman who knew how to take care of herself, but also wasn’t terrified to take a bite of ice cream. Just the right balance, if you asked me. And it was all the kind of shit I shouldn’t be noticing, but sue me. I was a man, and even if my girlfriend had just tried to rip my heart out and stomp on it with that tiny balled creep–yes, I was going to keep fixating on how small his balls were because that shit definitely mattered. I mean, if you wanted to bake a cake, would you grab the little bag of flour or the big one? You’d grab the big one.

Either way, I was starting to wonder if I’d ever really given Annabelle the chance to rip my heart out in the first place. Could you really break someone’s heart if they never gave it to you?

Fuck if I knew.

“Anyway. I’m sorry my ex and your ex met, I guess,” I said. I raised my hand to wave, but Pearl hurried after me.

“Hold on,” she said, grabbing my wrist. Distantly, I noticed most of the crowd around the corkboard had cleared. Maybe it was the duo of janitors cleaning up what was left of Pearl’s vomit a few feet away, or maybe the drama wasn’t that exciting when it wasn’t your own significant other getting caught cheating. “The fake boyfriend thing. I could use one of those.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You could?”

“It’s my family,” she said. “They warned me over and over about Eric. I’m already going to be getting ‘I told you’ out the wazoo. As soon as they get tired of that, they’re going to try to set me up with this someone. They don’t think it’s possible for someone to be happy and single. The ideas are incompatible to them, and they’ll never stop trying to push some new guy on me, but I don’t need that right now. I don’t know if I could handle it. So, if they thought I was with somebody…”

Holy shit. I’d tossed that thing out as a half-hearted joke. But to tell the truth, maybe I was on to something. And if Pearl was game, it could be a win-win. “You’re serious?”

“I mean, if you are,” she said. “It’s not like we’d have to do anything, right?”

That simple question flooded my brain with a sudden and vivid image of me grabbing her by that braid and tugging it back to tilt her chin up to mine. I saw myself kissing her deep and hard, cupping that tight ass in her jeans with a big hand and pulling her into me.

I blinked. “Yeah. We’d never have to see each other. Just make excuses if anyone asks. You could say I work in another state. Who cares, right? All that matters is we are both in on it.”

“For how long?” she asked.

“Honestly? Fuck women. No offense. And not literally. I mean, I’m done with all of it. The good ones wind up realizing they’re better off without me, and the bad ones end up like Annabelle. It’s a loss no matter how I play, so maybe I just won’t play anymore. I’m yours as long as you want me.”

Her cheeks went red at that, and my cock–the little bastard–definitely noticed. Clearly, there was mutual attraction between us, but acting on it would be problematic for a number of reasons. One, I was supposed to take some time to clear my head after a nasty breakup, right? You couldn’t trust yourself when you were in a state like this. Two, I really meant what I said. Fuck women. Agreeing to a relationship might as well have been like agreeing to climb into a burning airplane with no parachute. It was going to end in flames, the only question was when. And last but not least, I was tired of the endless dance. Maybe I could just put my head down, focus on work, and actually enjoy life without wondering when my relationship was going to detonate.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “Same. I’m not looking to date again. I don’t think I could handle another Eric. It’s just not worth it.”

Definitely not, I thought. Not with balls that small. I stuck my hand out. “Then it’s a deal. Be mine,” I added with a sarcastic twist of my lips.

“I’m yours,” she said, smiling back as she took my hand and shook.

My cock twitched, as if it was a dog looking up at its owner to make sure it heard that last part–the part about treats. Easy, prick. You’re going into an early retirement.

Her hand was soft and small. I felt like I had to be careful not to break it, but I shook slowly, eyes locked on hers. “Oh, give me your phone,” I said. “I’ll put my number in. If anybody needs convincing that we’re together, just have them call me. I’ll play along with whatever.”

She fished out her phone–a silly little bejeweled case with one of those popper things to hold on the back. I flicked my thumb up and saw she had no password. “You don’t have a password on your phone?” I asked. “What if somebody gets it and finds your nudes?”

Her eyes went a little wider. “Uh, I don’t keep nudes on there.”

“Oh, smart.” I tapped the side of my temple. “You keep them somewhere safer. I like that.”

She didn’t reply as I navigated to her contacts and saved myself in her phone as “Sweet Cheeks”. I fired off a quick text to myself and wrote “Thinking of you” with a few heart emojis and a kissy face. I handed it back to her and she looked down at the phone and read, cheeks flushing again. “Really?” she asked.

“Hey, it’s just pretend, right?”

Pearl nodded, gave a little wave, and walked off toward one of the cubicle offices on the main floor. I watched her go and saw a woman rush up and start talking to her quickly. Pearl smiled, said something, and split off from the woman to disappear behind a fuzzy, carpeted partition.

I scratched my head. Just pretend. As in, I just had to pretend a very real part of me didn’t wish I’d sworn off women, because I was tempted as hell to give that particular one a shot.

And look at me making good decisions. I didn’t chase after her. I didn’t secretly make plans to seduce her now that I had her number in my phone. All I planned to do was put my cock on lockdown like it was 2019 all over again, go upstairs to meet with Pollard Marketing’s CEO in my exercise clothes, and get to work.

Except I pulled out my phone in the elevator and stared at the text I’d sent to myself from her phone. I grinned, then typed out a quick response. After all, wouldn’t it look weird if her “boyfriend” didn’t respond when she texted something so sweet?

I snapped a quick selfie of myself winking and smiling, then typed out my message below it. I grinned as I reread it and thought maybe I shouldn’t, but hey, how many good decisions was a guy expected to be able to make in one day?

4

PEARL

I rubbed my eyes, which still felt thick and dry. My computer screen stared back at me, almost accusingly. Why aren’t you working harder, Pearl? Why isn’t your assignment finished yet, Pearl? Don’t you want that promotion, Pearl?

I wanted to argue with that voice, but arguing with your own internal voices was not healthy behavior. At least that’s what I’d been told.

Of course I wanted the promotion, but my brain felt like a gas station burrito that just did a thirty second tour in a grease-splattered microwave. Molten hot on the outside, but ice cold on the inside. I was all over the place. Yesterday, I stumbled upon what I was now referring to in my own head as “The Crackening, 2022.” I hoped it wouldn’t ever be necessary to clarify to myself which crackening I was referring to, but you could never be too careful.

Anyway, The Crackening, 2022 struck yesterday. Eric was fired, Anabelle was fired, and “Em” who turned out to be “Emilia” from the 11th floor in HR, was fired. Three casualties, two wounded–although Dean, too freaking hot to describe, Slater hadn’t looked particularly down on himself.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes again, even though it wasn’t doing any good. I was supposed to finish this stupid idea from Jonas before I left the office, and my heart wasn’t in it. That was part of the appeal in the promotion thing. One more step up the ladder, and I’d be deciding which direction we went for marketing material and design. No more working on the dumb ideas of my bosses. Instead, I could be the one floating the dumb ideas, as it should be.

Yesterday, I could’ve made things easier on myself by getting it closer to finished, but all I’d really done was sit at my desk and stare into space.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. A few minutes after my interaction with Dean, he texted me a picture of himself winking and smiling. That alone had been enough to make me wish I’d bought those flame resistant panties I saw as a gag gift once and considered getting for my little sister. But the caption took things to another level. He’d written, “Thinking of you, too. I know we can’t see each other for a while so I’ll be thinking about you a lot tonight. Especially in the shower.” He followed that with a winky face and several water drop emojis.

I interpreted that to mean he was going to please himself to the thought of me in the shower. And of course, I had no way of knowing if he was only sending something so dirty because he wanted to have evidence on his phone that we were legit, or if he really meant it. Either way, the possibility that Dean Slater had seriously touched himself while thinking of me that night pretty much fried my brain, my panties, and then the battery to my trusty vibrator.

But I had to remember the plan. No more men. Men were all like Eric Fisher in some way or another. Maybe they didn’t cheat, but they let you down, eventually. Even if it was thirty years later when they were mowing the lawn in their jorts with a white and red headband on while sweat glistened through their thinning hairlines. One way or another, relationships could never live up to the hype. It just wasn’t possible, and I was tired of buying into the lie.

So I was right there with Dean. I just wished I could be in such platonically perfect agreement about this sort of thing with a different man. Maybe a man who didn’t make me immediately question my resolve to stay celibate.

I discreetly pulled out my phone and looked at his picture. There he was, standing in the elevator with his long arm held out so I could get a clear view of all six feet plus and plenty of change he was packing. His t-shirt was pulled tight over a broad, muscular chest and I could even see the outline of ab muscles pressing through the thin gray fabric if I looked close enough–yes, I zoomed the shit out of the photo and I’m not going to apologize for it.

His body alone was enough that I would’ve been a nervous mess even if he had a face like Mona Lisa–no offense to her, because I’m sure she was a great beauty for her time, but you get the point. But he had this sort of mesmerizing blend of boyish good looks with ruggedly handsome features that were all held together by a pair of absolutely dazzling blue eyes. He looked like he’d take you on a sweet, romantic date to go ice skating and then finger blast you in the equipment shed right after while whispering something dirty in your ear, like, “Yeah, you like that you little bitch, don’t you?”

For the record, if a guy ever whispered that in my ear, I’d slap him. As soon as he was finished with the hypothetical finger blasting, that is. The point was he had this kind of impossible blend of danger and comfort, almost like asking for your favorite meal from the local Indian place, but telling them to make it so spicy your asshole won’t speak to you for a week.

Marley popped into my cubicle and tilted her head, eyebrows up as she watched me wordlessly. I worked with about a dozen people regularly and things were friendly enough, but Marley was my only true work friend.

I pretended I’d been hard at work, even though my piece in progress was on my screen and definitely not far along. I turned and folded my arms. “Yes?”

“I gave you a pass yesterday,” Marley said. She had big brown hair that was thick and curly enough to stash things in. I knew this, because she regularly liked to pull objects of increasingly insane size from her hair while wiggling her eyebrows at me. So far, the biggest I’d seen was a stapler. “But now we need to talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk about Eric,” I sighed. “You know that movie, Encanto? It’s like Bruno.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So he’s living in the walls of your house and watching you while you sleep?”

“As in, we're pretending he doesn’t exist from now on. It’s over. I sent him a text, just in case he was dumb enough to not gather as much.”

“What did you say?” She leaned in, brown eyes going wide with curiosity.

“I said our love square was over, and he could officially consider himself part of a love triangle. Except with the note ‘Em’ left him, I was assuming it was more of a love line.”

Marley smiled, almost reluctantly and shielded her eyes. “God, girl. You are such a nerd. But good for you, even if that’s the weirdest breakup text I’ve ever heard of.”

“I had a lot on my mind yesterday, okay? I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling even wider. “Did your fuzzy thoughts have anything to do with that man I saw you talking to? Tall, dark, and delicious?”

“You really think I’d move on that fast?” I asked. I managed to sound offended, despite my nocturnal activities last night.

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t judge. If a guy cheats on you, then you get a fast pass back into the dating world without any questions asked.”

I made the mistake of swiping up on my phone to check a notification. I still had the image of Dean opened wide. Marley saw, gasped, and snatched the phone from me.

“Holy shit, Pearl. You dog!”

“Hey!” I whisper-yelled, reaching for the phone until I had her cornered. Marley was a softball player in college, and frustratingly strong. She basically stiff armed my forehead, holding me at bay while she took her time admiring the picture. Finally, she handed the phone back with a smug smile.

“You two are already sexting, huh?” she asked. “Good for you. Seriously, fuck Eric. I hope you let this guy give it to you right up the ass on the copier, just to show him. You’ll just need to figure out the logistics of how to get the anal thing clear on print. Maybe if you both really hunker down right as it scans?”

I pressed my palm to my forehead, tapping out of the picture on my phone and setting it face down on the desk. “Okay, first of all? Eric doesn’t work here. I wouldn’t be teaching anybody anything with that, except myself, maybe. Because then I’d be just as fired as Eric and his little harem of cheaters–God knows how many more there were besides those two. Second, we’re not officially dating or anything. It’s just…”

Marley leaned closer, eyebrows creeping up.

I closed my eyes and thought about the agreement we’d made. Sure, I planned to only call in the fake boyfriend card weeks or months from now in a desperate situation. Claiming to have a new man only a day after The Crackening, 2022, was hardly a good look. But I had to do something to explain what she’d just seen.

“Okay,” I said, quietly so she had to lean in. “It’s official, but nobody can know. So it has to be between me and you. I don’t want people thinking we were dating before the break up or something.”

“Were you?” Marley asked so fast I could tell she almost wanted it to be true.

“No. There was only one cheater in our relationship.”

She leaned back, arms crossed. “Okay, but holy shit. This new guy is mega hot. Like, put down what you’re doing just to watch him go by levels of hot. He’s hot enough that I’d happily be his sugar momma if I wasn’t broke ass poor. I mean, not that he looked like he needed my money. He’s rich, right?” Without waiting for me to respond, she brought her face right up to mine, eyes wide pools of imagination. “I’d swim naked in a pool of his money with him. I’d sleep in it.” She added that last bit in a hushed tone, as if sleeping in money was orders of magnitude more crazy than swimming naked in it.

“I’m sure he has money,” I said. “But I don’t care about that.” I didn’t, either. Because Dean was just an agreement to me. Something practical and nothing more.

“I’d let him violate me with a solid gold bar. I bet he has several. Just–” she went bow-legged and gestured with both hands to her crotch in a vulgar and disturbing chopping motion.

I pulled a face between a grimace and a smile. “I think you might need therapy.”

“Sure. Dean can be my doctor. The only cure? His throbbing, thick–”

“We’re talking about my boyfriend,” I said. My voice had a little more of a sharp edge than I intended. I realized Marley’s words had sparked a curious and disturbing pang of jealousy in my gut. I pushed it down and smiled benevolently. “Dean is great, yes. And he’s our great little secret, okay? Can I trust you to keep it?”

Marley winked. “You don’t really have a choice, do you?”

“Murder is always on the table,” I suggested.

She rolled her eyes. “Dude, you couldn’t murder me if you wanted to. I bet all the weights you lift are pretty little pastel colors and made of soft rubber, right?”

I thought of the set of weights I had in my studio apartment–pink, baby blue, and purple. And yes, they were very soft and easy on the hands. “No,” I said quickly.

Marley laughed and I smiled too. She squeezed my bicep and it squished without more than the suggestion of pressure from her fingers.

“I love you, Pearl. So if you ever need me murdered, ask me for help first, okay? You’d definitely strain something trying to off me. And you’d for sure stress all day about it.”

I smirked. “Got it. If I ever decide to murder you to keep my secrets, I’ll ask you to help me do it.”

“Good. Now I’m going to need you to secure a shirtless picture of your new boyfriend. For research purposes.”

“Um, not happening,” I said.

She laughed. “It was worth a try. By the way, that thing does not look done. Jonas is going to kill you if you don’t hurry and get it finished in…” she checked her phone. “Four hours.”

“Yeah, yeah. I can do it. And if I can’t, I’ll just ask my sister to soften him up for me.”

“Ugh,” Marley said. “I keep forgetting she’s dating him. For the record, having your sister date the boss is definitely a form of cheating. I’m going to HR about this.”

“Say ‘hi’ to whoever replaced Emilia while you’re there for me.”

Marley laughed, waved, and left me to my task.

I took another look at the screen and decided to actually get it done. First, I needed to stop thinking about the picture on my phone of the man I couldn’t afford to have–even if he wanted me, which he probably didn’t.

The whole thing was a mess, but I guessed at least I had a fake boyfriend in my corner to help me navigate it. I considered texting Dean for about a nanosecond, then smiled and pretended I’d shut the idea down in my head.

I couldn’t afford to keep distracting myself with thoughts of him. I had a dumb advert featuring a bulldog sipping one of our client’s Bubble Tea drinks to put together. Right now, all I had was a cute bulldog, so I still had a lot of work to do.

With a sigh, I got back to it.

For some reason, there was a sinking feeling in my gut that this whole fake boyfriend scheme was a lot like popcorn kernels over a hot fire. Right now, the grease was just heating up. I couldn’t stop bracing myself for the first “pop” of disaster. But what was the worst that could happen?

5

PEARL

Here’s a life lesson for all the kids out there. Never ask yourself, “what’s the worst that could happen?” Some greater power out there is listening, and they enjoy a challenge. They can and will step in and mess your shit up.

In my case, the worst that could happen was a little bit complicated. I was sitting in my apartment, clad in pajamas even though it was well past noon, and my sister was in the kitchen making coffee. It smelled good, even though I hated how it tasted. I tried to focus on that instead of unraveling everything that had happened since I met Dean at Pollard Marketing six months ago.

Steph set a coffee cup in front of her spot on the sofa and slid me a cold can of soda. I grinned, thanked her, and cracked it open. Cold, bubbly bliss greeted my lips.

I sighed and sank back into the couch, manspreading with the best of them and letting my stomach stick out–because when you hit rock bottom, sucking in your stomach for dignity's sake was just not up there on the priority list.

Steph took a look at me, grinned, and shook her head. “Dramatic, much?” Steph was twenty-six now and only a couple years past her days of shopping almost exclusively at Hot Topic. She was that kid in high school who was always in layers of black with excessive eye makeup. Now she was a somewhat mellowed-out adult with tattoos all over, short black hair, and pale skin. She’d swapped the all-black for more practical clothes and a penchant for sarcastic and usually funny t-shirts. The one she had on today featured a witch’s silhouette crossing the moon with the phrase “real bitches drive stick”.

“I mean, could things be any worse?”

“You could be dead,” she said with a shrug.

“Har har. That’s helpful, Steph. Besides, at least if I was dead I wouldn’t need to figure out how to handle this.”

“What is there to handle? You lied to mom, dad, Merrick and Lizzie about this fake boyfriend of yours. So, you keep lying your way through the wedding. Ask this guy to fake it good when he’s in front of them and you’ll be in the clear. Problem solved.”

I sighed. “You don’t understand. I haven’t actually seen him in six months. I hardly know anything about the guy, but I sure as hell have made up all kinds of shit when people ask about him. I think I’ve said he is a massage therapist, a former animal rescue worker, a former college tennis star… The list goes on, I’m sure, but I’ve forgotten most of it.”

“If you’re going to lie about your boyfriend playing a sport, what kind of psycho picks tennis?”

I gave her a dry look. “You know I don’t perform well under pressure.”

Steph was trying not to smile, but failing. “I mean, you have to admit it’s kind of funny. I think some people would call this karma. You lied about having a boyfriend to everybody except your one sibling who wasn’t stupid enough to fall for it.” She paused briefly to literally pat herself on the back, then continued. “And now your gullible big sister is getting married to your boss. Everybody is invited, of course, including your co-workers, your bosses, and our whole family. They even invited this random ass consultant you happened to meet and supposedly fell head over heels for six months ago! So for the slow kids in the back, you lied, and now everybody you lied to is going to be watching your every move for two weeks.”

“This isn’t helping,” I said.

“It’s helping to amuse me,” Steph said, sitting back and sipping her coffee with a twinkle in her eyes. “I mean, Lizzie’s usually the sister I like to watch go down in flames, but flames are flames.”

I glared. “If you’re just going to rub it in, you can leave.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fucking with you. Us imperfect little sisters of Lizzie The Golden have to stick together. Some of us don’t shit nuggets of pure gold and charm out for everybody we meet to gubble up.”

That earned a grin from me. “My feet smell, too.”

“You mean little puffs of perfumed air don’t woosh out of your shoes when you take them off after work? What?”

We both laughed. Lizzie was our big sister, and even if we loved her, it was impossible not to be annoyed after a lifetime of living in her shadow. She graduated top of her class in high school and was homecoming queen. She was a cheerleader and student council president. Even worse, she refused to flame out after high school. She went on to play soccer at a division one school, earn a Master’s degree in business, and date all the hottest guys. People just loved Lizzie. They were always too busy being dazzled by her looks and her big, gravity-defying perky boobs that were still refusing to droop even in her early thirties.

My leading theory was she’d struck a deal with the devil. Maybe on her thirty-seventh birthday, she would just poof into flames, or something. It was honestly the only explanation. And if she didn’t go up in flames, I hoped she would at least get a pesky wrinkle right in the middle of her forehead or something.

“Seriously, though,” Steph said. “Just tell everybody you two broke up. You can pretend you’re staying away from each other during the wedding shit because you’re pissed at each other. Easy.”

“No. If Mom and Dad think I’m single for my sister’s wedding, they’re totally going to play matchmaker. They might even invite someone and try to pawn him off on me all week. Like that Landon guy. Remember him?”

“The one from the family reunion with the Star Wars t-shirt?”

“Yes. He told me my nose was beautiful. Who says that? Serial killers or creeps. That’s who.”

Steph reached out and stroked my nose while pretending to moan in ecstasy.

I slapped her hand away, grinning. “Not as creepy as you, at least,” I added.

“Does Dean know this is going to happen? Like, does he know your family is going to be there?”

“No. But I’m guessing he knows we’re both going to be at the same conference the week before the wedding, too. That’s two weeks of pretending. Week One we have to play the happy couple in front of our co-workers and bosses at the conference in Asheville. Week Two we have to ramp up the stakes and do it in front of family at the wedding venue in Colorado. It’s a freaking disaster, Steph.”

“A disaster you orchestrated because you’re too chicken-shit to tell Mom and Dad you’d rather choke on a bag of dicks than date guys like Landon, you mean?”

I folded my arms. “You know I can’t break their hearts like that.”

She shook her head. “No, of course not. But you can lie to their faces, right?”

“Only to protect their feelings!”

Steph sat back, clutching her coffee in both hands while she tucked her bare feet beneath her. “Okay, here’s what I think you should do.”

“This should be good,” I said.

“How about you just embrace it? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

I stared. Hadn’t she learned the lesson about not asking that question? “Well, let’s see,” I said, voice laced with sarcasm. “My boss could figure out I lied about being in a relationship with Dean. That would be bad.”

“What? Why would he even care?”

“Because I kind of used Dean as an excuse to miss work a few times?”

Steph grinned. “Okay. So your boss gets a little peeved. Big deal.”

“Mom and Dad could figure out I’ve been lying to them about Dean. Best case, they don’t really care but now start shoving some other guy down my throat. Worst case, I break their hearts and they never love me again.”

Steph rolled her eyes. “Well, you won’t agree to break up with your fake boyfriend, so it sounds like you’re just going to have to risk it, aren’t you? Actually, you should text him right now. Ask if he’s ready to fake the crap out of your relationship in a few days at this conference.”

I lifted my phone. “You know what? I think I will.” I typed out something similar to that, unable to stop myself from admiring the picture he’d sent six long months ago. I’d never texted him after that, and those two lines–both actually written by Dean–were our only communication.

I set the phone down with a click on the glass coffee table. “There. I asked him. I’m sure it’ll be a few–”

My phone vibrated.

I snatched it up and read with Steph leaning over my shoulder. “What did he say?” she asked.

Dean: Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure nobody doubts we’re head over heels. We’re going to fake the shit out of this.

A second later, he followed his text with another selfie shot of him winking and smiling at the camera. It should’ve been obnoxious–I mean, how many winking and smiling selfies could one guy send without looking vain as hell? But there wasn’t anything posed about the pictures. He had a natural photogenic quality that made it seem somehow perfectly normal.

Except for the fact that he was gorgeous enough to make a god jealous.

Steph had scooted close enough to see my phone, and she plucked it from my hands a moment after the picture came through. “Holy shit. You never told me he looked like that!”

She pulled back, clutching the phone to her chest and looking at me as if seeing me for the first time. “Your fake boyfriend is a fucking supermodel!”

“Stop it,” I said, trying to take the phone back. Like most people, Steph was considerably stronger and larger than me, so she held me at bay easily.

“Woah,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“Look at that.”

She turned the phone toward me and had it zoomed in on something in the bottom corner of the frame. It was a long, tanned stretch of skin. A leg. A very shapely, very bare woman’s leg in the vicinity of Dean, who looked like he was in some swanky penthouse from what I could see of the background.

He was either at a woman’s place or he had a woman over at his. So much for swearing off women, huh?

I caught myself fuming on the inside. Hadn’t we both agreed to swear off the opposite sex six months ago? Then what the hell was he doing with another woman?

I noticed Steph was grinning at me.

“What?” I snapped.

“Is somebody getting jealous? You look like you want to reach through the phone and strangle him.”

I sighed. “No, because it would be illogical and stupid for me to get jealous. He’s not my real boyfriend. He’s not my… anything. He’s just some guy I thought I was on the same page with. And besides, I don’t understand why he’s still letting me play along with the fake boyfriend thing if he’s dating someone. Is he just doing me a favor? Am I his fake girlfriend purely out of pity?”

Steph was grinning. “Or maybe it’s his sister.” She looked at the phone again, tilting her head. “His scantily dressed, long-legged, beautifully toned and tanned sister…”

“Somehow, I doubt it. Well, who cares? He can screw whoever he wants, because we’re not together. All I need him to do is pretend to be my boyfriend for two weeks, and then we can go back to never speaking or seeing each other.”

“Mhm. So what do you think he has in mind, anyway? He said he’ll make sure nobody doubts you guys have the hots for each other.”

I shrugged. Honestly, I had no idea what Dean Slater was planning. But, I had to admit a molten wave of excitement ran through me when I read that text. I imagined him pulling me into a tight hug when we arrived at the conference–a long hug for everybody to see. Maybe he’d kiss me on the cheek and hold my hand or something. And hey, it had been six months without any physical touch from a man other than hugging my dad and brother, so even that little fantasy felt wildly exciting.

“We’ll just have to see,” I said.

6

PEARL

I was not a fan of airplanes. My day had been spent worrying that I was going to the wrong gate, even though it was clearly printed on my boarding pass. Then I’d worried that maybe the sign at my gate clearly stating the plane was headed for Asheville, North Carolina, might be wrong. Yes, I’d seen dozens of my colleagues waiting at the same gate as we were all headed to the same work conference, but they could’ve been wrong too.

So I paced in circles around the gate, jittered my way through the flight as I worried that the plane might get hijacked. At one point, I worried that I might hijack the plane. After all, who was I to stop myself from doing something crazy?

When we landed, I was sure I heard one of the tires pop. Then I spent a few minutes wondering if we’d crashed and died mid-flight and if I was now in some sort of boring afterlife.

The bus ride after the flight to our little lodge in the mountains was the part where I really started to worry about what was going to happen when I ran into Dean again for the first time in six months.

When I finally stepped out of the shuttle bus and stretched my legs, I was exhausted. Sure, the North Carolina air was crisp and cool with early Winter goodness, but I barely noticed. Believe it or not, worrying was a full-body workout if you did it right. And you could bet your ass I worried with the best of them.

I turned a slow circle while my co-workers retrieved their bags from the little compartments on the side of the bus. The trees had mostly shed their leaves. The gravel road we’d followed up the mountain was winding, steep, and strewn with leaves. The air smelled like a campfire, and there were faded blue shapes of mountains stretching out in every direction I could see through the trees. Maybe the most impressive of all was the towering resort lodge where we were going to be staying.

Every single employee from Pollard was “invited” to this conference, which was code for, “come or we’ll find a reason to fire your ass at the earliest opportunity.”

I lagged behind to take in the scenery and keep an eye out for Dean, but I didn’t see any obvious sign of him. I wasn’t sure what a “sign of Dean” might be. It’s not like I’d spot his droppings or claw marks on trees. Maybe horny, dazed women? Discarded panties? Used condoms? Those would probably tell me Dean was near.

So far, it was just the employees and none of the higher ups. I didn’t even see my sister, Lizzie, who was supposedly going to be tagging along with her husband-to-be all week during the conference.

Marley came up and shoulder bumped me. “Pretty, huh?” she asked.

I nodded. The hotel was massive, with gleaming windows and “A” frame arches hosting rows and rows of mountain views in every direction. “The Pollard brothers like to remind everybody how rich they are, I guess.”

“That they do,” Marley agreed.

We headed up the path together and made our way in through the main entrance. It had an upscale cabin feel inside as well, with rock sculptures and drizzling waterfalls adding to the scene. The main entrance featured an ornate staircase flanked by walls sculpted to show the shapes of trees and leaves. Overhead, huge beams of wood ran across the vaulted ceilings and the walls were lined with windows, letting the surrounding nature do most of the talking as far as impressing guests went. At the top of the stairs, the lobby was a huge area with several sitting rooms full of real fur-lined chairs, thick and beautiful wood slab furniture, and an endless array of windows wherever they fit to show off the views.

I was surprised to see the three Pollard brothers standing in the lobby, greeting some employees and chatting with a small group of men and women I didn’t recognize. My sister was holding onto Jonas Pollard’s arm with her head resting on his shoulder as he talked.

“The golden goose,” Marley whispered.

I grinned. “The happy bride.”

“Why did she even come to this thing? It’s just a work conference.”

“Because Lizzie is the perfect girlfriend and the perfect wife-to-be. If her husband cares about it, so does she. I’m sure she didn’t want to miss this.”

“Barf. You should go say ‘hi’.”

Marley was goading me, but I thought she was probably right. I just didn’t want to be anywhere near the Pollards or my sister when Dean made his arrival. I’d decided our best course of action was to stay under the radar. For all I knew, nobody would even realize both of us were going to be at the conference together. Sure, Dean was one of the speakers we were all supposed to listen to, but it was possible nobody would make the connection, right? It wasn’t like he was a true employee of Pollard, at least. He just came in to do consulting work with the eldest Pollard brother, Maxwell.

“Maybe we should just find our rooms,” I said.

Marley gave me a tug. “Oh, come on. It’d be weird if you don’t at least go say something to your sister. What do people say to brides? Happy wedding? Or is there no catch phrase for that one? Merry Christening? You know, like–”

I rolled my eyes. “No need to elaborate. If I go talk to her will you stop?”

“Yes.”

“You stay right here.”

Marley gave her eyebrows a little wiggle and waited, arms crossed.

I gathered my breath. The anxiety was doing its work. With the speed of a quantum supercomputer, I calculated every horrible outcome of walking up to that group and trying to say something to my sister. I imagined them all laughing at me uncontrollably. I imagined one of the bosses calling me a broke ass loser and smashing a pie in my face–because you never knew when people were hiding pies behind their backs. I even had one image of Lizzie dumping a bucket of pig’s blood all over me, Carrie style, and laughing with everybody in the lobby at my misfortune.

Was any of it logical or likely? No.

Was any of it as mortifying as what was actually about to happen? Definitely not.

I approached the group. Lizzie saved me the embarrassment of having to get their attention. She spotted me and let go of Jonas to come over and intercept me a few steps away from the bosses, wrapping me in a hug.

As usual, she looked vomit-inducingly radiant. Blonde, naturally curly hair that was just curly enough to be stylish and not so curly that it needed tamed. She had skin so perfect she could’ve passed for a sculpture, eyelashes long enough to hang your laundry on to dry, and those boobs. I know it might not be kosher to notice your sister's boobs for any length of time, but hers were just so… there. It was also offensive, considering nature had decided to borrow big boob genes from me and Steph, leaving us with barely a handful while she got buckets of boobs.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” she squealed. She took me by the arms and smiled benevolently down at me–the perfect image of a bride. Radiant. So freaking pretty you almost wanted to shield your eyes and maybe even say a few Hail Marys, and I had no idea how to say those, but she made me want to.

“Yep,” I said. “Anyway, happy wedding!” I winced internally, especially when I saw the bosses and their squad were drifting over. A few of the important looking people they’d been speaking with wandered off, but I had all three Pollard brothers looming over us now. Jonas, the handsome one who was almost as perfect as Lizzie. Maxwell, the oldest vulture-like one who was tall, bent, and balding. Then there was Alec, the middle brother, who would’ve been handsome except for a scar that ran down his face and screamed “bad guy from a 90’s action movie”.

Lizzie’s smile faltered for just a moment, but she replaced it quickly. “Thank you.” She dipped her chin, locking her big baby blue eyes on mine. “I heard I finally get to meet your mystery man. He’s one of the speakers. I bet you’re so excited.”

“Oh, definitely,” I said. So much for nobody noticing he was here.

“Dean should be arriving soon,” Jonas said. “Lizzie has been telling me about the two of you. I wouldn’t normally encourage inter-office dating, but since Dean is just a consultant, I went ahead and booked you two a room together.”

My throat went dry. I tried to swallow, but just made a clicking noise. “You did?”

Jonas beamed, showing a row of gleaming white teeth. He had mistaken my shock and horror for stunned gratitude. “It’s no problem, really. I want you to enjoy your week here. I know this is a work conference, but it kind of feels like the prelude to the wedding, doesn’t it? We can’t wait!” He put his arm around Lizzie’s waist and pulled her into him. Like the perfect bride she was, my sister planted a kiss on his neck, smiling up at him and batting those long lashes.

I stole a look toward Marley, who was shamelessly standing just a few yards away with her leopard print suitcase at one side and her coat dangling over her arm. She tilted at the waist to twinkle the fingers beneath her coat at me and gave me a shit-eating smile. I glared, and then I gaped.

Because that was when I saw him.

Dean Slater was striding into the lobby like he owned the place, and he’d already spotted me. His eyes were locked on mine and his smile was broadening with every step he took in my direction.

For a few fleeting moments, I considered dropping my things and running. I could just sprint for the elevator and think up an excuse later. Bad airport food? I had an important call to take? An ingrown toenail that required immediate attention? Whatever it was, it surely couldn’t be as bad as standing here and waiting to see whatever that man was planning to do when he reached me.

The Pollard brothers and my sisters had noticed too. Everybody was watching Dean come toward me, getting more impossibly handsome with every foot of distance he crossed.

I did a worried little dance in place, bouncing on my feet and looking around, considering my options. Everything was happening too fast to react, and before I knew it, Dean was reaching for me.

I stared at his outstretched arms in confusion and horror. Was this like what I’d imagined when I read his text a few days ago? Was he going to hug me in front of everybody and plant a kiss on my cheek? I could barely imagine how mortified I’d be if he did.

I stood stiff as a board while he wrapped his arms around the small of my back, pulling me closer. Then, as smooth as a snake, he gave my braid a little tug and I felt my head tilt back, chin facing up towards him. Dean’s twinkling eyes met mine and he smiled in a way that seemed to say, “watch this”.

He lowered his face to mine and our lips met.

Some part of my brain knew my bosses, my sister, Marley, and probably half of the entire company was watching as a super-model hot guy strode up and kissed me right on the mouth. But that part of my brain got blasted into a distant corner, locked behind a closet door, and told to shut its mouth.

For a few seconds, my whole world was the softness of his lips gliding across mine–the hot tease of his tongue sliding into my mouth and swirling against mine. It was the rough, powerful feeling of his hands on my body, making me feel small and completely in his control.

And then he brought both hands down, squeezed my ass–hard–and gave it an audible slap. He pulled back from the kiss and tugged me to his side by my waist, smiling at the bosses and my sister. “I have to apologize,” he said smoothly. “I haven’t seen my Pearly-poo in so long. I just couldn’t stop myself.”

I blinked a few times. Pearly-poo? It felt like reality was rushing back to me in waves, forcing me to replay what just happened through goggles that weren’t fogged by horniness, surprise, and six months without the romantic touch of a man. And holy shit. I’d never been kissed like that. I’d never felt like that from any kind of physical contact. Was it just the element of surprise? Was it knowing he was practically a stranger? Or was it some undiscovered kinky desire to do dirty things in front of other people? I had no idea, but my head was spinning and I’d already missed most of what Dean was saying.

I thought Jonas had said something about how it was no problem and Maxwell had just been glaring.

Alec–in all of his 90’s bad-guy glory–raised his arm and pointed toward a pair of businessmen who were entering the lobby. “Well, as professionally appropriate as this has been, we have some business to take care of, Dean. I hope you’ll excuse us.”

Lizzie gave me a small wave, a smile, and trotted off with the Pollards, leaving me alone with Dean.

I shot him what I hoped was a “what in the ever-living fuck was that” level glare. All my fiery eye power must’ve bounced right off the man, because he just smiled and gave my side a little squeeze. I very nearly pulled his hand away and started a slap fight with him in the middle of the lobby, but I had just enough presence of mind to realize that would be… counterproductive.

“We need to talk,” I said through clenched teeth that might pass for a smile at a distance.

“I hear we’ve been booked in the same room,” Dean countered. “I think we’re going to have plenty of time for talking. All night, actually. Unless you had other plans?” He added that last question with a look so genuine I almost thought he wasn’t just trying to mess with me.

As discreetly as I could, I punched his hard chest and jerked my head sideways. “I’ll see you outside our room. Oh, and that’s my bag,” I jerked a finger toward my bag and stormed off, opting to pound my feet up the stairs instead of bouncing restlessly in the elevator.

I was raging pissed, confused, and worried. But the part I was most upset about was how none of those emotions were rushing through me for the right reasons. I was pissed because that kiss felt like the kind of kiss that changed your life. I was confused because I’d nearly tugged him back into it when he pulled away, consequences be damned. And I was worried, because I’d just been worried about how to successfully fake it for two weeks. Now I had to worry about what happened if one of us started wishing things weren’t fake.

What a freaking mess.

7

DEAN

Pearl stormed off, giving me a spectacular view of her heart-shaped ass in her gray sweatpants. I grinned at her wardrobe. It was full “I’m going to be traveling all day and don’t give a shit what you think of how I look”, from the hoodie to the sweats and all the way down to the minimal makeup and messy ponytail. Some of the people from Pollard were dressed similarly, but most had tried to dress like they would for the office. Suits for the guys and nice blouses and skirts or pants for the women.

Pearl disappeared out of my view, and I was left watching after her with a finger running along my lip. That fucking kiss. If cocks could talk–sometimes, I thought maybe mine could telepathically–mine would be saying “I told you so”. Because from that first moment I saw Pearl, part of me had just wanted to claim her mouth and take her to the nearest lockable door. But if anybody knew where blind physical attraction led, it was me.

I sighed, briefly reflected how I liked that Pearl was willing to dress for comfort over show when she felt like it. Maybe that shouldn’t have seemed like a big deal, but the women I seemed to date would’ve been decked out to impress, travel or not.

I followed after Pearl, tugging her heavy-ass suitcase with me.

I had just about a minute to wonder what she was going to say to me once we were alone. She would chew me out for the kiss, probably. I’d deserve it, no doubt. The whole non-consensual kissing and ass grabbing thing wasn’t a move I’d ever pulled out of my arsenal, and for good reason. But I knew we had to come out of the gates strong. I figured if we started with a show-stopping moment, people wouldn’t even think to be suspicious for the rest of the trip. It was actually genius, if you asked me. But I maybe should have run it by her before I pulled my move.

All I had to tell her was the kiss didn’t mean anything and we’d be good.

Only, I’d planned to mean it. I didn’t realize I’d be lying out of my ass when I said the words, but that didn’t matter, I guessed.

I found Pearl pacing in front of a door at the end of the hallway. Her arms were crossed and she looked like she was talking to herself. I couldn’t make out any of what she was saying, but she stopped to glare when she saw me.

“What the hell was that?” she asked.

I set her suitcase down. “Did you pack your rock collection or something?”

She glanced at the suitcase, looked like she was about to answer, then suddenly jabbed her finger up at me, glare returning. “Don’t change the subject. You basically mouth fucked me back there!”

I snorted. “It was a little kiss,” I said. I refrained from saying the other thing I wanted to say. I would love to show you the difference between kissing and mouth fucking, if you’re confused.

“And you grabbed my ass,” she added, eyebrows raised and finger still pointed up at me.

I shouldn’t have laughed. I definitely shouldn’t have laughed, but I couldn’t help myself. She looked so ridiculous and crazy with her brown hair a mess and her eyes wide. A small chuckle escaped me and Pearl practically pounced toward me. She slammed her fists into my chest and tried to shove me, which only propelled her backwards.

She made a frustrated grunting noise. “Apologize,” she demanded.

“Alright. I really am sorry,” I said. And I was. For more reasons than one. “I planned to kiss you on the cheek or something, but everybody was watching, and I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”

She folded her arms. She was standing sideways to me, head turned like she couldn’t even bring herself to directly face me. Finally, after a few moments’ consideration, she nodded. “Good. No more kissing. No more touching my ass,” she said.

“Alright. Any other rules?”

“I get the bed.”

I laughed. “We’ll see about that. What else?”

“I need the keycard. I forgot to get it before I came up here.”

I fished in my pocket and found mine. I’d actually checked in about two hours prior and went out to get breakfast. I tapped the card to the reader, saw the green light, and pulled the door open. I gestured for her to enter.

She eyed me, then pointed to her bag. “You can bring my rock collection in.”

I watched her walk in and plop down on the bed with a bemused expression on my face. This fucking woman.

I dragged her suitcase in and closed the door behind us. “Honey, I’m home.”

“That’s not funny,” she said.

I shrugged, moving to sit in a chair across from the bed. Our room had a King bed, a window couch in a wood-paneled nook with a view of a wooded valley leading down the mountain. There was even a little desk. I sat backwards in the desk chair, resting my arms on the backrest as I faced her. She was sitting on top of the comforter with her arms crossed over her stomach and leaning against the headrest.

“So, how are we going to play this?” I asked.

“Not like whatever that was in the lobby, for starters.” Her voice said rage with a side of ice, but her cheeks were flushing red and something in her body language told me I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed that kiss more than expected. At the moment, I wished she wasn’t just my fake girlfriend, because I would’ve enjoyed plunging my hand between her legs to see exactly how much she’d enjoyed that kiss.

A wise man wouldn’t have teased a woman in Pearl’s current state. It would’ve been the same kind of instinctual wisdom that said you shouldn’t stick your hand in an open alligator’s mouth or poke a snake in the face. Unfortunately, that form of wisdom wasn’t my specialty, so teasing her was exactly my plan.

“Just to clarify,” I said. “When you stuck your tongue in my mouth and made that little moaning noise, it was coming from a place of outrage and disgust? Am I getting this right?”

“I did not moan. And you were the one who stuck your tongue in my mouth.”

“It slipped.” I grinned, and she didn’t seem like she could hold eye contact with me. “And I quickly corrected my mistake, only to find your tongue following after mine.”

“I’m not having this conversation. And I did not moan.”

“You did, but we can agree to disagree. So no more passionate, mutually enjoyable kissing and ass grabbing. What else?”

I could see her calculating whether to bite on my bait or not. She chewed her lip, as if it was the only way to stop herself from continuing to argue. With a deep sigh, she lifted a palm to the air. “We keep pretending. What else can we do? I’m assuming Maxwell Pollard wouldn’t appreciate learning that his top consultant lied about dating one of his employees, right? You probably can’t afford for this to fall apart any more than I can.”

That not-so-wise part of me reared its head again. “Well, I could simply say we had a fight in our room and broke things off. I’d get a separate room, you’d get your space, and we could go our own ways. Simple as that. I mean, it’s not as if I’d be hurting for cash if I lost my contract.” I was bluffing in some regards. I didn’t need the money, but I needed the purpose this work gave me. I didn’t want to lose my job with Maxwell Pollard any more than Pearl wanted to be fired. But I waited, watching to see if my bet was correct. Because if this was going to be as fun as I wanted, I needed to remind her that she wasn’t the one doing me a favor. This would be considerably more fun if she remembered she needed me. Badly.

“I don’t think that would be smart.”

“Why not?” I asked, sounding and looking like the picture of innocence.

Pearl gave me a dirty look–a look I didn’t mind at all. “Because this big fake relationship is the only thing standing between me and a mouth-breather named Landon or a dozen other guys like him. Guys my parents will think are perfect for me and won’t stop shoving in my face.”

“So… You’re saying you need me?”

“You didn’t seem this obnoxious when we met six months ago.”

“I was on my best behavior. You know how it is. Those early days of dating are the most important. Besides, you kind of threw up on me before I had a chance to really let my true colors show.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, almost to herself. “We don’t have to like each other. We don’t even have to talk when we’re alone. ” She raised her eyebrows, gave me a tight-lipped smile, and plugged her ears up with headphones.

“Alright,” I said, standing and stretching. “But I need a shower.”

“What?” she asked, tugging her earbud out, clearly annoyed.

“I said I need a shower.” I pointed to the frosted glass door beside our bed. For reasons I couldn’t fathom, they’d made the door to the bathroom out of frosted glass like the kind you’d use on a shower door. It would do about as good at providing privacy as a thong, and I was going to enjoy amusing myself with the setup. The door was right beside the bed, meaning Pearl could see just about everything in the bathroom except into the shower. For that, she’d have to get up and walk to the foot of the bed.

For a moment, I thought she was going to curse at me or loudly proclaim she was leaving. That was what I’d expected, at least. Instead, she chose a different strategy. She pretended not to give a shit.

Bold choice, Peal.

I gave her one last look, still halfway expecting to call her bluff and watch her rush out of the room in annoyance. Instead, she lifted her phone and started idly flicking her finger across the screen. The only hint that she was far less calm and unconcerned than she was letting on was the moment she lifted her eyes to mine and quickly darted them back to the screen.

I stripped off my suit jacket, stared unbuttoning my shirt, and kicked off my shoes. A few seconds after I’d closed the “frosted” glass behind me, I was in my birthday suit and the shower water was running. Her shape on the bed was a dark smudge, but I didn’t miss when her head turned my way more than a few times.

Once the water was hot, I stepped in and got to cleaning my already clean body.

I ran my hands through my hair, wondering what the hell I was doing, exactly. Was I trying to punish her? Was I pissed that she was trying to pretend that kiss hadn’t been fucking insane? She had to have felt it, too. That kind of thing wasn’t one-sided. You didn’t get a kiss like that from only one participant, and we both knew it.

Yet she was trying her damndest to give me the cold shoulder and pretend it had been just as fake as our supposed relationship.

And me? Well, I guess that not-so-wise part of my brain saw that as a challenge. She wanted to pretend she felt nothing? Maybe I’d entertain myself by finding out just how far I could push things before her facade finally cracked.

8

PEARL

I learned something today. Apparently, the blurry outline of a naked man could be just as dangerous as the real thing. Also, blurry or not, it was very easy to tell where certain parts were and roughly how big they were. In other words, yes, Dean Slater was a shower, not a grower. Well, I guessed maybe he could be both. Maybe the thing was catastrophically big–big enough to swing around and clear the table if he got carried away. So big that if I ever made the mistake of giving into my carnal desires, it might just get stuck. Deliciously, erotically, and tragically stuck on Dean Slater’s beautiful cock.

I pinched my eyes closed, shaking my head and trying to erase the image of Dean Slater gyrating and slapping things with his huge, probably perfect penis. That wasn’t even erotic. It was just… ugh. I was losing my mind, bit by bit.

I turned my music up a little louder just as I saw Dean emerge from the shower and back into view through the frosted glass door to the bathroom. His shape was dark against the white tiles. I saw the broad triangle of his back and narrow waist. I saw the big, muscle-clad arms and long, thick legs.

Two things in life made me want to lick on sight: ice cream, and long legs. I caught my tongue slipping across my lips and snapped my mouth shut.

Bad, Pearl. No licking. And if I was going to lick anyone, it couldn’t be him. Dean thought I wanted him. The big bastard practically had it written all over his face. It was in those twinkling eyes and subtle smirks. He knew what he looked like, and he was happy to assume I wanted to jump his bones because of it.

Well, the joke was on him. Because when I swore something off, I meant it. Actually, I wasn’t sure that was entirely true. Once, I’d sworn off caffeine. Two days later, I had what I self-diagnosed as a caffeine withdrawal headache. I ended up grabbing some kind of pre-workout energy drink at one of those stores that sells protein powder and vitamins. Without reading the label, I chugged the whole thing in a few minutes. And then I read the warning label.

It turned out the drink had about ten times the level of caffeine in a Red Bull. I was only supposed to drink a quarter of it, assess my tolerance, and then continue.

By the time I got home, I was so hyper-dosed on caffeine that time became a mere suggestion. I could’ve counted the molecules of air passing by me and had time for tea after. A fly passed my head and I saw into his eyes, understood that he was working hard to provide for his family, and knew his wings were bothering him and had been for some time.

I didn’t just shake or fidget, I vibrated. I became the caffeine.

When I finally came down from my caffeine overdose, I vowed again that I would never again consume the stuff. That vow lasted about four days, because my friends wanted to take a trip to Atlanta and tour the Coca-Cola factory. The tour ended with literal fountains of soda spurting across the room in joyful little jets that could land right in your cup. There was even a dispenser to try dozens of sodas from all over the world.

I folded my arms, glaring at nothing in particular. Fine. Maybe I needed to admit I didn’t historically have an impressive history when it came to swearing things off and sticking to it. But that didn’t mean I was going to fail this time. This time, I was going to succeed. There would be no overdoses on Slater cock, no matter how often he waved that thing around in front of me.

In fact, screw men. Screw all of them. I thought back to Eric and his feeble attempts to reach out and “apologize” a few weeks after The Crackening, 2022. Naturally, his apologies had come just a few minutes before he hit me up for money. Getting “laid off” had been hard on him, he said. I told him to try asking the other members of his harem, then hung up and went full Casper the Ghost on him, just like he deserved.

I was yanked from my thoughts when Dean opened the glass door with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. I felt like a pilgrim seeing color TV for the first time. The blurry version of him was frustratingly sexy enough. But the real thing? I wish I could say I did something smooth like casually look back at my phone. Maybe even averting my eyes to the side would’ve done the trick. Even some conspicuous cartoon-style “I’m not up to anything” whistling would’ve been better than what I did.

I shrieked and yanked a pillow up to cover my face.

There was a brief pause, then Dean’s deep chuckle. “Did I frighten you?”

“How much of a cliché can you be?” I asked through the pillow. “The old coming out in your towel trick? What is this, American Pie? Are you about to change into your JNCO jeans and go spike your frosted tips? Did you leave your chain on the bathroom sink next to your Pogs?” I was rambling, but I had to forgive my brain. It was currently being exposed to near lethal levels of sexy. Alarms were blaring. Little brain cells were smashing themselves into walls, deciding to end it all rather than face what was coming. It was pure pandemonium in my head.

He laughed. It was a genuine, heart-melting laugh that I pretended to hate. “Actually, I was thinking we should get our weirdness around each other out of the way. If we’re going to pretend to be dating, we should be comfortable. No matter the situation.”

“Oh, come on. Nobody needs me to prove I’m not going to freak out if you spontaneously rip off your shirt. And I’m absolutely not stripping in front of you. Go ahead and get that one out of your head right now.”

He didn’t say anything for about a minute, then he spoke again. “Alright, I’m decent again. You can stop hiding.”

I peeked and saw he was indeed, “decent”, if you could call it that. He’d slid into gray slacks and a white undershirt that was hardly better than when he’d been shirtless. I could see every freaking muscle under that shirt like I was reading a relief map of the US–and I had no clue how to read relief maps, but I certainly knew how to find pecs, biceps, and abs. The man even had those silly little muscles on the side of his ribs. I was pretty sure nobody knew what those were for, except hot guys, and I could see them through his shirt as he bent down to tug on a pair of socks.

“So can we talk like adults, yet?” he asked, spreading his arms.

With effort, I locked my eyes on his face. Although when it came to not dissolving into a horny, no-brained mess, his face wasn’t much of an escape. I could practically see him lifting me up in the rain while my dress clung to my body. He’d growl something romantic, like, “You had me from the moment you puked on my shoes,” and then we’d do one of those movie-ending kisses–the kind where we both tilt our heads from side to side as we kiss like we’re desperately trying to look past each other to catch a glimpse of a car crash.

Annnnd there it was. The frustrating thing about anxiety brain was that it ran on its own. I always thought if scientists could somehow figure out how to harness the brains of anxious people, they could create a perpetual energy machine and solve world hunger.

He snapped his fingers. “You there, Pearl?”

Yes, asshole. I was there, but I was also short-circuting. I certainly wasn’t going to admit that to Dean, though. I dropped my phone to the bed with a soft thump. “From where I’m sitting, the one refusing to treat this whole thing like an adult is you. You know, the one who decided to go all Magic Mike on me.”

“You’re right. That was uncalled for. I’ll humbly submit myself to payback. I can just sit here and you can teach me a lesson. Go ahead,” he sighed. The man was a strangely good actor, and it looked like he was actually expecting me to get up, strip, shower in front of him, and then come out in a towel.

“Are you crazy?” I asked.

He pursed his lips. “Is that a no? Alright, but you can’t stay mad at me if you’re not going to even take your chance at payback.”

“Look. If this is going to work, we need a plan. An actual plan. Like, I need to know what you’ve told people about me and you need to know what I’ve told people about you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’ve told people you’re my girlfriend? So we’re on the same page, right?”

“You mean nobody has asked you what I do for a living? What I’m like? What my favorite things are?”

“No. My brothers mentioned hooking me up with a girl they met. I said I was dating someone now, and then they dropped it. I mentioned it to the Pollards as well in conversation over dinner. Said something like, ‘I’m off the market again.’ And that was that. Why, did you say something weird about me to people?”

“Um, well.” I scratched the back of my neck, hesitating. Were men really that completely devoid of curiosity? Six months and nobody had pressed him for any details about me? Every time I mentioned Dean to people, it was like the freaking Spanish Inquisition. My dad had practically held the kitchen light in my eyes and cuffed me to the table. I think my mom was considering looking up how to water board people if it meant she’d get some info out of me. “I might’ve had to make up some things about you.”

He licked his lips. It was a slow, agonizingly erotic thing to watch. His tongue slipping over those full lips, pulling the bottom one temporarily from view until it popped back out, glistening and practically begging to be kissed.

I dragged my eyes up to his again. “Well, I told people you’re a massage artist.”

He snorted. “Massage artist? Is that a thing?”

“I also said you were a retired animal rescue worker. And some other things.”

“Why would you make up something like that? Why not just tell them I’m a consultant for Pollard? You know, the truth?”

I sighed. “Maybe because I don’t perform well under pressure, okay? When people ask too many questions, I start to kinda freak out. And when I freak out, words just appear in my mouth.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes. So, if anyone asks about you, just let me do the talking and play along. Can you do that?”

“I’m an excellent actor.”

“I can tell,” I said.

He did a little bow, then leaned against the dresser, watching me while his wet hair fell across his blue eyes. “So, you should probably get dressed for the company lunch. Unless you’re wearing that.”

“Company lunch?” I asked.

“Didn’t you read the agenda? Naughty, Pearl. The Pollards sent it out hours ago. You can change in the bathroom. I’ll wait here.”

I shook my head at him. “You’re waiting outside. In the hallway. And you’re giving me your keycard.” I got up from the bed and walked over to him.

He rolled his eyes theatrically, fished out the keycard, and handed it over with a smile. “Happy?”

“Is that the only one?”

“Yep. Scout’s honor.”

I stared up at him, doing my best angry stare as I waited.

Dean let out another long sigh, then reached into his sock and pulled out a second keycard. “Alright. You got me. That’s all of them.”

“You’re unbelievable. Now get outside.”

“Bossy,” he said, but he strode off toward the hallway.

“And put something on over that shirt. That thing is practically see-through.” I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I especially regretted them when I saw how Dean turned in slow motion to look over his shoulder at me, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline.

“Par-don?” He asked in a terrible impression of a French accent. “Is my doting girlfriend jealous at the thought of another woman seeing through my shirt? Are you the possessive type, Pearl?”

“Forget it. Go out there naked for all I care.” I couldn’t look at him. I was staring at my feet, wishing I’d learned to just keep my mouth shut for once.

Dean tugged a dark blue sweater from his bag and slid it on. When he reached up to put his arms through the sleeves, his shirt rode up to show me two sharp lines leading at a diagonal toward the prize–like a freaking runway to trouble. I would’ve hopped on that plane and rode to my own doom if I had to look at those lines of muscle for much longer.

For about the millionth time, I had to force my eyes away from him.

He opened my suitcase and started fishing through my clothes.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I took a half step toward him but felt far safer if I didn’t get too close, even if he was rummaging through my stuff.

“Picking something out for you to wear,” he said.

“Don’t do that. I have underwear in there!”

He lifted up a skimpy little pink thong, holding it between us. “Yes you do,” he pursed his lips, nodding in approval as he set that aside on the table.

“You’re not picking out my underwear.”

“I’m simply making a suggestion. It’s up to you if you want to take it. Oh, yeah. This would be sexy as hell on you.” He held up a forest green dress. It was a little thing, tight, and frustratingly one of my favorites.

“Yeah,” he said, holding it toward me and nodding again. “Put your hair up with this. You’ll make everybody stare.” As if it was the most normal thing in the world, he tossed the dress next to the pink panties and headed out into the hallway. “Let me know when I’m allowed back in. I need to finish getting cleaned up, too.”

I watched him go, then studied the panties and dress on the table. I would’ve never admitted it–not even under threat of torture–but something about him picking out my dress and underwear was making me hot all over. I knew I should toss them back in the suitcase and pick something else out. Something totally different.

I knew I should, but…

I chewed the corner of my lip and took a step toward the clothes.

9

DEAN

Pearl opened the door to our room, just letting a sliver of light show through. She didn’t say a word, but I heard her bare feet padding away from the door. I let myself in and saw she was wearing the green dress and putting her hair up, just like I’d suggested. She glanced at me, and that little moment of eye contact might have been the sexiest thing I’d seen all week.

Those eyes said everything I needed to know. I’m wearing what you picked out and I liked that you picked for me, but if you dare to tease me about it, I will kill you in your sleep. Sexy. As. Hell. My cock clearly agreed, because it was struggling to free itself from my slacks at the moment.

I looked at the table where I’d laid out the pink thong beside the dress she was wearing. The thong wasn’t there anymore, and I had a very good guess about where it wound up. Picturing her in it beneath that figure-hugging dress made me so hard it hurt.

“You look fantastic,” I said.

“Nobody’s here. You don’t have to pretend.”

“Who said I was pretending? You really look great.”

She eyed me, probably trying to make sure I wasn’t fucking with her. Finally, she gave the slightest shadow of a smile. “Thank you. I was going to wear this anyway, so don’t go patting yourself on the back too hard.”

Sure you were. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Do you want help with that?” I pointed. The zipper in the back of her dress was still a quarter undone beneath the open back below her shoulder blades.

“Fine.”

I approached and stepped inside her space. I could smell her scent. I picked up something like vanilla and a flowery undertone. It was intoxicating, and I took a deep, greedy breath through my nose for more. Just because I couldn’t help myself, I put one hand on her side and then reached for the zipper, tugging it up with playful slowness.

I watched the bare skin of her back break out in goosebumps as I dragged the zipper upward. I brushed some loose hairs away from her neck and turned her to face me by the shoulders. She looked up at me, the whites of her eyes clearly visible around the blue pools of her iris’.

“What are you doing, Dean?”

“Well, first I was zipping up your dress like you asked. Then I was just getting a better look at you. What kind of boyfriend would I look like if we showed up together and I’d missed something. Like that eyelash.” I tapped the pad of my thumb to my tongue and cupped her face, carefully pressing the wet spot on my thumb to a loose eyelash that had landed on her cheek. I collected it, examined it, and held it out to her. “Make a wish.”

“What?”

“It’s what you do when you get a loose eyelash. Go ahead. Make one.”

She stared up at me, eyes flickering with mischief. “I wish you would behave.”

I studied the eyelash, waiting to see if I felt its power come over me. Then I shrugged and brushed it off on my pants. “Nope. Didn’t work, sorry.”

She folded her arms. “Funny.”

I gave her another look over and tucked more loose hairs behind her ear. “See? What would you do without me.”

“Probably stop feeling like I was going to have a heart attack.”

I laughed. “Do I make you nervous, Pearl?”

We were still standing close. Too close. I could’ve lifted her chin with a hooked finger and kissed her without taking a step. I could see her breasts rising and falling with the pace of her quick breaths.

“We both swore off dating,” she said. Her eyes darted between mine, making me feel like she was searching my face for some sign of what I was thinking. Hopefully, she didn’t find it, because I was currently thinking we had an hour before dinner and I could absolutely make her come for me two or three times in an hour. Hell, we’d still have time to clean up. And sex didn’t equal a relationship, anyway. So neither of us would even be breaking our little vows we’d made.

“We did,” I said carefully. “But this whole thing is pointless if people see through the act. So it’s in both our best interests to get comfortable with each other.” I lifted my hand and brushed her cheek. She flinched back, eyes twitching open wider for a moment. “Like that,” I said. “My girlfriend wouldn’t flinch from my touch. Try again.”

She stared up at me and gave the slightest nod.

I brought my hand to her cheek again and ran my fingertips down it. She let out a shuddering breath, head dipping along the path of my hand as her eyes closed. I was smiling when she opened them again, blinking fast like she’d just woken from a spell.

“See? Not so hard,” I said.

“That’s plenty of practice. I need to finish my makeup,”

She spoke quickly and practically rushed away from me. She went into the bathroom and pulled the door shut.

I grinned at the blurry shape of her behind the glass. For about the hundredth time in the last hour, I wondered what the hell I was doing. Honestly, I had no clue. I did know this was fun. It was a dance I’d never really danced–something between flirting and fighting. It was a game of chicken, and I wanted to find out which one of us was going to lose our nerve and pull away first. Or maybe neither of us would. Maybe we’d just wind up colliding head to head.

That was the beauty of it, I guessed. Either way, there’d be fireworks. And I’d always loved fireworks.

10

PEARL

The sound of chairs wood farting as they were being scooted in all over the large room was deafening. Just about every Pollard employee must’ve been here, and we were all taking up spots at little round tables in the hotel’s conference room. As far as rooms went, this one was impressive, with a seemingly endless expanse of windows leading right up to the a-frame ceiling, which was lined with smooth, pale logs. With the wildlife-themed furniture and images, it had a very cozy upscale lodge atmosphere.

I was making a point of studying it all because it saved me from having to look at my dinner guests.

Fate seemed to have a sense of humor, because our round table just happened to be occupied by the Pollard brothers and my sister. I guess they figured it would be rude not to invite Lizzie’s sister to sit with them. Frankly, I wished they had just been rude, because I would’ve happily sat with Marley and some of my other loose work acquaintances over this. At least I wouldn’t be at risk of having to talk about our relationship.

“So,” Jonas said. He looked immaculate, as usual, in a powder blue suit with a white undershirt that screamed “I’ve been rich my whole life and wouldn’t hesitate to use a hundred dollar bill as toilet paper in a pinch–if I had to suffer the indignity of wiping my own ass, that is.” Any statement he made would obviously be followed by that classic rich person laugh. The one that was always too loud and somehow made it seem like they were visualizing a mob of peasants at their feet begging for scraps.

Ugh. Lizzie really knew how to pick them.

“So,” Dean countered. Oh God, Dean. I wished he’d just sit there and look pretty. I didn’t know the man very well, but I already learned he only made things worse when he opened that beautiful mouth of his.

Jonas smiled. Maxwell and Alec looked distracted. Alec was showing Maxwell something on his phone as a woman in a white button down moved around the table, filling our waters from a fancy, chilled glass bottle and making minute adjustments to our silverware. Fancy, fancy. Dean noticed me watching and gave me a nudge and a wink. I caught myself smiling back at him just in time to wipe the look from my face and glare instead.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jonas said. He was speaking to Dean, and there was a glint of something in his eye. Benevolence? Or was that malice? Could rich people smell fear? If they could, I was sure I reeked like a three-week old burrito. “First, my brother tells me all about the business genius he has a consulting contract with him. It’s Dean Slater this, Dean Slater that. He thinks very highly of you. But I also hear from Pearl that you’re some sort of massage artist in your spare time. Is that right?”

I braced myself for Dean’s response. I half expected him to laugh and put me on the spot, but he slid his arm around my shoulder–apparently already forgetting the “no touching” rule. He looked over at me and smiled. “Have you been bragging about me again?” He gave my cheeks a little pinch and leaned in to bump his nose to mine like we were the picture of a doting, sickeningly sweet couple. “You’re adorable. But yeah, I have been studying the way of the hand, you could say.”

I was somewhere between laughter and mortal embarrassment, but it only got worse when his weird response caught the attention of Maxwell and Alec. They looked up at us. Lizzie was leaning on Jonas’ shoulder, watching me, even though Dean was the one doing the talking.

“The way of the hand?” Maxwell asked. “We’ve worked together for months, Dean. Why am I only now hearing of this?”

“You know how it is. If people know you’re a massage expert, they’re always asking for massages at the worst time. Plus, I don’t just carry my hot stones and kit around with me everywhere I go,” he shrugged easily. “I’m sure you understand.”

I had no idea what deep corner of his perky, toned ass he was pulling all this from, but I wished he’d just keep it simple. If I’d learned anything in my anxiety-ridden ramblings about Dean to friends, family, and co-workers, it was that complicated lies were bad lies. Simple lies? Those were the good ones.

“Is that how you two met?” Jonas asked. “While you were practicing the way of the hand?”

“That’s right,” I said, jumping in before Dean could make this worse. Part of me wondered if he was enjoying this, and I sincerely hoped not. I had a feeling Dean was most dangerous when he was having fun, so I needed to find a way to make this boring, and fast. “We met at a party and the massage stuff came up. I was really stressed and he offered to give me a demo massage. Five minutes and I was sold.” I shrugged. “Sometimes you just know.”

Another server–a man this time in a white button down with a little black vest–came around and set salads in front of us. They were big wedges drizzled with fancy looking white dressing and candied crumbles of bacon. Apparently, this was the sort of thing where the food was already selected for us ahead of time. All around the room, my co-workers were chatting easily and enjoying their salads. Meanwhile, I was sweating bullets and I had a wedgie. And it was no ordinary wedgie. We were dealing with a stuffed taco situation–a vedgie.

That damn thong Dean picked out for me was an emergency thong. It was just there in my suitcase because you never knew when you might run into the man of your dreams when you were out of town. It was the same reason I kept things downtown trimmed, polished, and gleaming, if you know what I mean. I liked to be prepared for anything, even if I had sworn off men for the foreseeable future. It just helped me to know I was ready for spontaneous, wild sex and a romantic romp at a moment’s notice. Because you never knew when you would find yourself in the middle of a dirty Hallmark movie, and everybody knew those neutrally attractive actors were ready for wild sex beneath their festive sweaters.

But this damn ass floss was wedged in every bit of me, and I desperately wanted to get up and do a very unladylike reach up my dress and yank it out of there.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Dean asked. He tilted his head down, giving me a look of genuine concern.

I smiled tightly. “Just great,” I said.

“You two are so sweet together,” Lizzie said. “And that kiss in the lobby. Whoo,” she fanned herself off, smiling. “I don’t know if Jonas has kissed me like that in a long time.”

Jonas raised an eyebrow and gave her a “to be continued” sort of look.

“You know how it is,” Dean said. “We’re like bunnies, me and–” he grunted as I punched his leg under the table.

Alec hadn’t touched his salad, but for some reason, he was holding his knife upright in his fist. Definitely a 90’s movie bad guy. “And you think you two… bunnies will be able to focus on work this week? Even though my brother so graciously bunked you together in the same room?”

“They’re adults,” Jonas said, giving Alec a look of annoyance. “They aren’t kids sneaking out for a sleepover.”

“And they’re our employees,” Alec said.

Dean cleared his throat. “Technically, I’m a consultant. A contractor, if you will. There’s nothing in the company bylaws against a contractor dating one of your employees. I checked.”

Did he? I waited for one of the bosses to contradict him, but they didn’t.

“I do admit the situation is a bit unusual, but Dean is very valuable to me. Pearl, too,” Maxwell added as more of an afterthought.”

“I fail to see why,” Alec muttered. His gaze was on Dean, and I wondered what bone he had to pick with Dean. So far, everybody seemed to love Dean. Alec might have been the first person I’d seen look at him with anything but open admiration.

“I don’t see what is unusual about it,” Dean said. “If we were married, would it be odd? I mean, the two of us have basically already agreed we’re tying the knot as soon as we have a date set for the wedding. Unless we get pregnant first, I guess.”

I choked on my water. Lizzie bulged her eyes at me for confirmation.

While still coughing a little, I nodded. “Yep,” I rasped. “It’s true. Practicalloy married already. Not pregnant,” I added when I saw the inquisitive look from Lizzy.

Dean gave my thigh a squeeze and there was too much going on to slap his hand away. I barely noticed.

“See?” Jonas asked. “He’s right. If they were married you old grumps wouldn’t give a care in the world. And from the sounds of it, they’re one step away. So it’s settled.”

Alec gave an unimpressed lift of his eyebrows and finally jabbed his knife into his salad. I expected him to, you know, maybe pick up the fork and start eating. But nope. He apparently just wanted to stab the lettuce and leave his knife there like some kind of shiny, wobbling warning.

Maxwell raised his palms in a gesture that seemed to say it wasn’t particularly worth discussing further.

“So, finish the story,” Lizzie said. “Pearl has always been coy when I ask her how you two met. It was always, ‘oh you know massage artist this and emotions and it happened so fast.’ But how did it all happen? Give me the minute by minute.”

My sister was fully focused on us now and the Pollard brothers had devolved into conversation about some stuffy business topic, mostly ignoring us.

“Oh, I’d love to,” Dean said.

I tried kicking him under the table, but the man just gave my knee a placating little pat, and I froze like a deer in the headlights. What part of no touching did he not understand?

I knew I should just yank his hand away, but his touch was making me warm all over. The worst part was I think he knew, too. And my lady parts? I never knew they could sing opera.

With a very annoyed glare at nobody in particular, I picked up my water and sipped, forcing a smile while Dean dove into the story of how we met.

“It was crazy, actually,” he said. “We were partying at this… It was old, right?” he asked.

I stared back at him, then realized he was making sure he didn’t contradict something I’d already told Lizzie. I nodded quickly. I hadn’t gone into detail about that, but I was glad he was at least being mindful not to make the lines of our lies cross.

“Yeah, so it was old,” he continued. “Like historically old. We went upstairs to find a spare bed for the massage. I closed the door, locked it–because people would think they were walking in on something weird if they came in–and got to work. We wrapped up the session and I was packing up my kit when–”

“I thought you didn’t bring your kit everywhere?” Lizzie asked.

“Oh, I don’t. But one of my friends from massage school was at the party. We have this kind of competitive, ongoing thing. You know, he dares me to massage the shit out of him and I dare him back. It’s a guy thing, you wouldn’t understand. Totally hetero, too, not that it matters.”

If Lizzie’s eyebrows went any higher, they would’ve been behind her hair.

I was trying not to laugh, even though I was horrified at how crazy his story was getting. Was she really going to buy this? But then again, Dean had an oddly convincing way about him, even when he was spinning something so outlandish before our eyes.

“So, I packed up my kit,” he said, and now his hands were getting involved. He was pantomiming lifting stones or something heavy and putting them into a bag and zipping it. “And I went to open the door for us, but, shocker. It was locked. I mean, yes, I was the one who locked it. But now it was locked from the inside. The latch wouldn’t turn and that door was a big ass, old door. Historic. Probably a hundred pounds. There was no way I could kick it down.”

I realized the Pollards had tuned back into the conversation, probably because Dean had a theatrical way of telling his story. I even found myself getting more and more interested. How did we get out? I wanted to ask.

“We were stuck,” Dean said. “And the part my little sugar kitten doesn’t know is I spotted the key right then. It was on the dresser, but we’d been talking during the session and I wanted to finish our conversation. I figured it wouldn’t hurt anybody if that key stayed where it was for a few more minutes.”

“You dog!” I said, slapping his arm. I was partly hitting him for calling me his “little sugar kitten” and partly because I needed to act like this was all true.

He grinned. “Love makes us do crazy things. You know how it is, Jonas.”

Jonas nodded wisely, then gave Lizzie a kiss on the temple before leaning back to enjoy the story.

“So we got to talking. A few minutes passed, and before we knew it, hours had gone by. The party was long over and as it happened, the hosts weren’t even staying at the house that night. So when I miraculously noticed the key past midnight, we came out to find an empty house all to ourselves. We stayed up til sunrise watching movies together on the couch. Ever since then, it has pretty much been nonstop.” He looked over at me and there was a genuine glint of affection in his eyes. “I just can’t stop thinking about my little Sugar Bottom.”

I was going to kill him if he kept coming up with ridiculous pet names for me. “And I can’t stop thinking about my Daddypums.” I clapped a hand to my mouth. Daddypums? What the hell kind of pet name was Daddypums? I’d started that sentence with the intention of making up some kind of embarrassing nickname for him by the time I finished speaking. The nonsense word just kind of came out, and even Alec Pollard looked like he was trying to decide between laughing and gaping at us in horror.

I lifted the side of my hand to my mouth, covering a mortified smile. Dean was grinning openly and that damn hand of his was just making itself at home on my bare knee. I didn’t know if he had it there to mess with me, or to make us look more lovey dovey in front of our guests, but I was tired of how irrationally turned-on it was making me. I reached down to grab it and for some reason, expected him to resist. So when I snatched at his wrist I ended up grabbing so hard I pushed his hand straight up my knee, past the hem of my dress, right up my inner thigh, until the side of his forefinger collided with the little pink thong he’d picked out for me.

My stuffed taco had become finger food.

I gave a jump and a squeal, yanking my dress down under the table as Dean pulled his hand away. For a split second, there was something in his face that definitely wasn’t fake. Hunger. Longing. Desire. Then he was smiling and looking back toward the rest of the table. “She gets so embarrassed about our names for eachother. I know it’s silly, but we can’t help ourselves.”

Nice save, I thought. I could say what I wanted about Dean, but at least one of us was smooth under pressure.

Lizzie, who had been harboring a hint of suspicion since I told her about Dean, looked like she was fully convinced it was real. She was staring at us and shaking her head slowly, smiling. “I’m so freaking happy,” she said. “I can’t believe my little sister is falling in love.”

“Falling?” Dean said. He took my hand from under the table, laced his fingers with mine, and lifted it up for everyone to see.

“Nope,” I said before he could finish, because for some misguided reason, I thought I’d make less of a mess of this than he would. “We aren’t falling. We’ve already hit rock bottom. Well, I mean like good rock bottom. Like what happens after the fall is over. Love,” I said, because anxiety brain was slipping its stupid, shaky fingers over the steering wheel. “We’re super in love. I love him!” I squealed a little too loud, and then, because I felt the momentum of disaster starting to mount, I leaned over and planted a kiss right on his cheek.

His stubble tickled my lips and his skin smelled faintly of expensive cologne. Knowing my kiss was only an inch or two from his lips was doing things to me–things I didn’t care to admit, most of which were centered between my legs.

Dean put an arm around my shoulders, hugging me into his side and kissing me on the top of my head with a loud smack. He turned and smiled at me, winked, then turned his attention back to the others.

I was horrified, weirdly turned on, and almost positive that was what you could call a “victorious wink.”

11

DEAN

Pearl cornered me in the hallway outside the banquet hall. She’d made an excuse about her stomach not feeling right as soon as she could and excused both of us. She was whisper-yelling and giving me regular shoves to punctuate her sentences now that we were mostly alone, save for the occasional scurrying member of the wait staff.

“What was that?” She hissed. Three shoves.

“That was playing the part,” I said.

“Sugar Bottom?” Two shoves.

“Daddyplums?” I couldn’t help laughing. I also couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that I knew what underwear she had on. Except I realized I hadn’t picked out a bra for her, and now that I looked closer, I could see she’d taken that as a suggestion. Her breasts were definitely free and living life to the fullest under that dress. I could even see the hard points of her nipples rising up. Either she was cold, or she was enjoying herself more than she let on.

Naturally, I chose to believe the latter.

“Eyes up here!” she snapped. She gave up the shoving and walked a slow, frustrated circle with her fists balled at her side. “And if you put your hand up my dress like that again, I’ll kill you.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I had my hand innocently on your knee. Until you did some kind of spontaneous pelvic thrust and rubbed yourself on me. Frankly, I felt violated.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

I took a deep breath. I was having fun. There was no denying that, but I had to admit she was right. We both had a lot on the line here. “Okay. I’ll apologize for touching your knee if you apologize for pelvic thrusting yourself into me and then kissing me on the cheek. Fair?”

Pearl looked like her idea of “fair” at that particular moment would be kicking me hard enough between the legs to end the Slater line right then and there. To her credit, she tilted her chin up with a touch of defiance and muttered something that sounded like “sorry”.

“Your Daddyplums forgives you.”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

“But it’s the first pet name you gave me. That’s important. These are the kinds of memories a good couple like us should cherish for years.”

“Dean, I really will kill you. I know where you sleep.”

I smirked, and her anger finally broke enough that she smiled back–just for a moment.

“So is your stomach really hurting?”

“No,” she said.

“Then you made me miss the steak for nothing? I assume you have other plans to feed your man?”

“If we stayed at that table any longer, there was no telling what kind of crazy stories you might tell about us. You should be thanking me.”

“You’re right. I was thinking of telling them how we made a vow to skinny dip and eat wedding cake for our one year anniversary.”

Pearl rolled her eyes, arms folded. “I’m going back to the room and I’m ordering room service.”

“Our second date already. Things are moving so fast,” I said, jogging to catch up with her.

* * *

Our food was spread out on the foot of the bed. She’d ordered salad, a baked potato, a chocolate and strawberry milkshake, and a slice of chocolate cake. I had a cheeseburger and fries. When I tried to sit cross legged beside her on the bed, she’d kicked me off and pointed to the chair, so I was sitting backwards in my chair in front of the bed. Pearl still had on the green dress but she’d kicked off her shoes and let her hair down. I was munching on my burger and trying to decide which version I liked better. The done-up, prim and proper version of Pearl I’d seen at dinner? Or maybe the frumpy, ready to bite your head off version I’d seen after her day of travel. Of course, the nauseated, dressed for work version was a strong contender.

Maybe the problem was I liked all the versions of her, because each one came with the patented Pearl sass and fire. Call me a masochist, but I enjoyed how spunky she was. I also liked how just beneath that fire, there was a delicate edge to her. It was almost like she was lashing out when I got too close because she was afraid of letting me see how fragile she was beneath the angry exterior.

She was staring at the bed with a strawberry milkshake in one hand, legs crossed, and hunched over like she was all alone on a Thursday night in her hotel room. Except the glare. That glare made me certain she knew I was still in the room, even if it was aimed at her food.

I popped a fry into my mouth, chewing and considering that idea. “Am I really that bad?” I asked.

“Yes.” No hesitation. She didn’t even look up at me when she spoke.

“You realize you’re no picnic either, right? Always glaring. Always grumpy and mad. Would it kill you to have a little fun?”

She finally raised her eyes to mine. “Fun? Is that what you call this? My job is on the line, thanks to you.”

I took the fry in my hand and carefully laid it to rest on my plate. This was the sort of conversation that you put the fries down for. I could feel it. “Par-don?” I asked.

“You dragged the bosses deeper into this. You made it more real back there. We could’ve just downplayed it and sounded boring. Now they’re all probably invested in us. What are they going to think if they find out it’s all fake? What’s my sister going to think if I ruin her wedding by dragging some elaborate fake relationship into everything?”

“The only way they find that out is if one of us screws up. And it’s not going to be me. So are you planning to screw this up for us, Pearl?”

“I don’t know what I’m planning.”

“I think we’ve gotten off to a bad start. That’s all. How about we get to know eachother better.”

She didn’t answer right away. The only response was the sound of her slurping up her milkshake through the big, red and white swirly straw. She’d moved on from the half-finished strawberry to the chocolate one. “I don’t want to get to know you. We both swore off relationships, remember? But maybe that kind of thing was just lip service to you, because from where I’m sitting, it seems like you’re trying to seduce me or something. Always looking so–” She made a frustrated sound and waved the bite of cake on her fork around randomly. “Like that.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How is it that I look, Pearl?”

“Oh shut up,” she popped the cake in her mouth, speaking around the mouthful. “You know exactly how you look. You’ve seen mirrors before. Don’t tell me your ego’s so hungry you need me to say it.”

I raised my palms. “Okay, well, would it make matters any better if I said I find you distractingly pretty?”

“What? No. That would only make things worse.”

“Worse how?”

“Because then I’d definitely think you were trying to seduce me or get in my pants or something.”

I laughed. “I’m not allowed to acknowledge I find you attractive without it being a ploy to fuck you?”

She swallowed with a gulp, cheeks tinting red. “So you don’t want to sleep with me, then? What’s wrong with me?”

I threw my head back, biting back a smile. “Sorry. Do you want me to say I want to fuck you? Because I’m just trying to make sure I don’t get chewed out for taking this the wrong way.”

“I’m saying it’s a little insulting that you say it the way you said it, like wanting to sleep with me would be crazy. But I don’t want you to plan to sleep with me. Hypothetically, it would just be more polite if–”

“Alright,” I said. “Hypothetically, I’d press you right against that wall over there.” I pointed, watching her eyes go wide as she followed my finger. “I’d peel that dress off you slowly, and then…”

She raised a palm. “Thank you. I think,” she added with another gulp. She quickly grabbed up her milkshake and started slurping aggressively.

“Sure. I’d hypothetically fuck you any day. But we both swore off relationships, like you said. From my experience, fucking tends to be a path that leads straight to messy things like relationships. And neither of us want that, right?”

“Well, your text the other day makes me wonder. Who was the woman in your picture?”

“What?” I asked. Frankly, I didn’t even remember sending her a text.

She looked annoyed as she lifted her phone and tapped a few times. She pinched her fingers and spread them out, turning the screen to face me. I saw the picture I’d sent her, but it was zoomed in on the bare leg at the bottom of the frame. Ahh, I thought. Maybe that’s why she has been so pissy.

“Her,” she said flatly. “Your real girlfriend, I assume?”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Oh, okay. Is this why you’ve been so sour towards me?”

“I haven’t been sour. And maybe it’s why I have trouble believing anything that comes out of your mouth.”

“That leg belongs to my sister. Makenna. So unless you think I’m from a certain Southern state with a reputation, you can put your fears to rest.”

“Are you from a certain Southern state with a reputation?”

“Born and raised in Manhattan.”

“Why was your sister half naked in front of you?”

“She was in her swim suit. My sister and some her friends were visiting when I sent that text and she was sitting on the chair beside me. Are we good, now?”

Pearl crossed her arms. “I still don’t trust you.”

“Good. That makes it more fun.” I reached across the bed and picked up a chunk of cake that had fallen on her plate. I ate it and licked my fingers, raising my eyebrows at her. “That’s good.”

Someone knocked at the door, so I got up. Pearl bulged her eyes and shook her head, but I opened the door and found a small woman with a huge puff of curly brown hair surrounding her face. She looked vaguely familiar, and I thought maybe she was the one I’d seen standing and gawking a few feet away when I kissed Pearl in the lobby. She smiled wide. “Dean Slater, right? Pearl told me all about you.”

“Has she? What did she say?” I leaned in the doorway and heard Pearl scrambling to get off the bed behind us. Plates were clattering and there was a loud thump like she might’ve tripped and fallen.

“Just that–”

“Marley!” Pearl half-shouted. Her mad scramble to the door already had her breathless. She ducked under my outstretched arm in the doorframe and put herself between me and the woman I assumed was a friend.

A chunk of chocolate was stuck on the corner of Pearl’s mouth, so I casually reached down, swiped it on my finger, and licked it clean. Marley watched the path of my finger, then mouthed “holy shit” silently.

“Is there something you need?” Pearl asked.

“Um, well. I didn’t realize you two were… well, you know. I just came to say everybody is meeting up in the lobby to play a game. Jonas and your sister said you had to leave dinner early, but they were hoping you’d come if you felt better. Both of you, I guess,” she added.

“Actually, we–”

“Pearl is feeling much better. She just needed a little alone time in the bathroom. You know how it is when you’re traveling. The stomach gets a little shy, sometimes.”

“Oh,” Marley said. “Great. So I can tell everyone you two will be there?”

“You don’t have to–”

“We’ll absolutely be there,” I said.

“Wait,” Pearl said. “What kind of game?”

“Um, I think it was like a team-building thing with a twist. Apparently your sister sprung it on the hotel staff last-minute and they were all about it. They even had two ladies fighting over the right to host the game. And the rumor is that Jonas paid for the grand prize out of his own pocket, so you know it’s going to be something good.”

“Sounds amazing,” I said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Pearl said.

“But we’ll be there. Count on it.”

“Okay! Bye!” Marley headed off and Pearl pulled the door closed, slowly turning to face me with death in her eyes. Just because I was obstinate, I decided not to step back, so when she closed the door and turned she was practically pinned in the space.

“You couldn’t just say ‘no’?”

“Sorry,” I said. “I love games.” I gave the tip of her upturned nose a little tap with my index finger, then headed back to finish those fries I’d set down.

12

PEARL

My mom always said biting your nails was a nasty habit. Well, mom, say hello to Miss Nasty. My nails were all chewed down to painful nubs and I hadn’t even made it through a full day with Dean Slater. We were gathered in folding chairs in the hotel lobby while a pair of women talked quietly beside a microphone in front of us.

Dean sat upright and cheerily beside me. From his mood, it really did seem like he loved games. The man was practically giddy to find out what the game was going to be, and all I wanted to do was melt into a puddle and die noisily.

Dean rolled to the side, giving my shoulder a little bump. “You ready for this?”

“No,” I said.

“That’s alright, partner. I’ll make sure we’re on the same team, and I always win.”

“Don’t care if we win,” I said.

He narrowed his eyes, skepticism plain on his perfect face. “That sounds like something a loser would say. We’ll fix that.”

I was learning not to argue with Dean, so I just waited and tried not to gnaw on my fingernails anymore than I already had. Maybe the game would be something simple like Bingo. We could just sit in the crowd and go unnoticed most of the night. That would be the best case scenario, because I saw Lizzie sitting up front with Jonas Pollard. She turned, saw me, and gave a little wave and a smile.

I smiled back, twinkling my fingers. Dean noticed and put his arm around me, leaning his head into mine like we were posing for a picture. I didn’t need to look at him to know his smile was probably equal parts dazzle and charm, too.

Once Lizzie turned around, I elbowed him in his side, which felt like elbowing a brick wall. “Jesus,” I said, rubbing my elbow. “Ever hear of carrying a little Winter padding? Who are you trying to impress, anyway?” I whispered. “You’re supposed to be off the dating scene.”

Dean smirked. “Maybe I want to impress my Sugar Bottom?”

“Don’t call me that.”

The microphone whined for a second with feedback, then the woman up front put her palm over it, silencing the noise. She gave it a quick, bassy tap and cleared her throat. “Hello Pollard Marketing!!!”

The crowd of nearly fifty gave a few half-hearted whoops and a few people clapped.

“Alright, alright. Great crowd!” She pulled the mic from the stand and walked around the stage, squinting as she seemed to look out at us, searching for something. “I need three couples. Do we have three couples out there? I know this is a work event, so we’ll settle for a couple friends or a couple of cubicle-mates if we have to. What about you two! You look like you two beauties are in love.” She pointed to Lizzie and Jonas, who raised their hands together and cheered as everyone clapped a little more enthusiastically. With the grace of movie stars, they both took the stage, letting the other woman guide them to a spot off to the side. “And you! A happy couple?”

The two she pointed at were explaining they were only friends, but she waved off their complaints and had them come up anyway.

I tried to shrink into my seat. I could see Dean was sitting up straighter. Just as the woman’s eyes came our way, he leaned toward my ear to whisper something and put his arm around me. “We got this,” he said.

“There’s one! You two! Come on up!”

Everybody was looking at us and starting to clap. Dean practically dragged me out of the chair and took me up on stage. My mind was racing. A couple’s game? In front of the entire staff? Things literally couldn’t go worse.

There was one other problem. Even though I’d told Dean I didn’t care about winning whatever the game was, I was a liar. When we had games day during our family reunions growing up, I became a little bit infamous for getting way too competitive and making sure I won everything. The words “cutthroat” and “ruthless” were even tossed around when people thought I wasn’t listening.

Okay, there wasn’t just one other problem. I also had stage fright. Every step we took closer to the stage made my airways feel like they were closing up–an invisible fist tightening around my insides until I was breathing through a coffee straw.

Dean had my hand in his and I was too distracted to pull mine out. Besides, I wasn’t sure if I could’ve made the walk up on my wobbling legs without the support.

Once we were on stage and the woman was explaining the game–some sort of “how well do you know your partner” style trivia game with the addition of a few silly physical games–Dean seemed to notice how I was feeling.

“Hey,” he whispered, bending to bring his face close to mine. “You alright?”

I shook my head quickly. “No. I’m freaking out. They’re all staring at us.”

He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, and it actually helped a little. His other hand went to my back, rubbing a soothing circle. “You’re going to be fine. I’ve got you, okay?”

I nodded, hating how much better I felt with his assurances. But it was hard not to believe him. Dean seemed to walk through life with the confidence that he could handle anything thrown his way. He was confident beyond all reason or sense, and as irritating as that had been up until now, for once I was glad to have him at my side.

Although he was the one who got us into this mess, I thought.

The first round of the game had us sitting back to back in chairs someone had borrowed from the lobby. Each couple had their own little space, and my chair was turned so I was pointed toward Lizzie, who gave me a giddy smile and wave. She loved this sort of thing, too.

Bitterly, I thought how she probably would’ve been exactly the kind of girl Dean liked. He’d love how fun-loving and ready for adventure she was. Lizzie never said “no” to a good time, and she was actually pretty enough to believably date a guy like Dean. The two ladies hosting the event were explaining the rules while I was wondering if Dean had already noticed how pretty Lizzie was. Of course he had. Every guy I’d ever met noticed Lizzie. It was impossible to miss her.

I was handed a card with three questions. I was given a pencil and told to fill out the answers, and from what I gathered, the hosts were going to read our responses and our “significant others” would tell the crowd how many we got right.

Okay, I thought. This would be easy enough.

But then the host explained how the game was going to work. Our partner would guess our answer, and then the answer would be read to the crowd. In other words, we couldn’t cheat.

I studied the list of questions.

What is their favorite color? I thought about what I’d seen Dean wear. Usually dark or neutral suits with a pop of color. Hadn’t I seen green on his phone case? I really wasn’t sure, but I did know people really only chose from a pool of like three colors when it came to favorites. Blue was the cliche, green was a close runner up. Dean didn’t strike me as a “black like my soul” type, and what kind of psychopath would say a color like gray? Colors like yellow, orange, red, and purple were also a slim chance. With a quick shrug, I jotted down “Green”.

What was the most embarrassing thing they’ve ever done in front of you? I grinned. There was no point trying to get this one right. I had no chance. The only thing to do was make up something super embarrassing and watch the crowd’s reaction when the hosts read it to them. In other words, it was my chance for a tiny bit of payback on my “Daddypums”. I tapped the pencil to my lip, searching for something appropriately humiliating. After brainstorming for a solid minute, I was laughing to myself as I scribbled down the totally fabricated answer.

When did you know they were the one? I wanted to sigh. At best, I was going to get one out of three right. I suddenly wished I’d taken Dean’s suggestion to get to know each other back in the room a little more seriously. At least I would’ve had some kind of framework to build on. As it was, I hardly knew anything about the man. My best hope with this one was to make up something sappy and sweet. We probably wouldn’t be on the same page, but it’d at least look like I was head over heels for the guy.

I desperately wanted to whisper to Dean and cheat, but the non-couple pair of partners already got in trouble and were booed by the crowd for trying to talk.

So I sat and waited until one of the hosts came and collected my card.

The host started with the pair of people who weren’t a couple. They did surprisingly well, only missing two questions. Next, she went to Lizzie and Jonas, who only got one right. Lizzie took the loss in good humor, but Jonas looked embarrassed or pissed that he’d been the one to screw it up for them.

When it was our turn, I found myself going rigid with worry, even though I couldn’t quite say why. Even the soon to be bride and groom had bombed the game, so why was I nervous?

“Okay, okay,” the host with our cards said, lowering a palm to the ground to urge the crowd to quiet. “Mr. Slater! What would your lovely lady say your favorite color is?”

Dean’s back was still to me, so I couldn’t see his face, but I pictured him thinking hard. “Green,” he said confidently.

“Correct! Miss Moreno. What would Mr. Slater say your favorite color is?”

I thought about the green dress I was wearing–the one Dean had picked out. Distantly, I wondered if maybe that was what actually made me think of green. Would he think I liked green, too? Or would he simply say green because it was the color I had on. Maybe that was the simplest answer. But… I thought of what I knew about Dean. He had a wicked streak, and I suddenly felt sure I knew the answer he would’ve put down.

I cleared my throat. “Pink,” I said.

“Wow! Great stuff! That’s correct.”

The crowd cheered for us and some laughed, probably at the idea of a manly man like Dean saying his favorite color was pink.

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I was grinning, too. Pink, like the color of the thong he’d picked out for me. Perverted bastard.

“Okay, second question!” The host did her quieting gesture again and got everybody to quit clapping. “Mr. Slater. Most embarrassing moment? What do you think she put down?”

“Maybe the time I called her Sugar Bottom in front of her bosses?”

I wanted to smack my forehead. Damn it. I’d been so ready to embarrass him that I hadn’t considered simply pulling from the brief list of experiences we’d actually shared. Dean had hardly embarrassed himself, so I would’ve been working with a short list.

“Aww, too bad!” The host chuckled, clearly reading ahead. “Looks like she’s got much more of a whopper than that here. Miss Moreno wrote, ‘the time we were at a kid’s party together. You said ‘watch this!’ to the moms and ran to do a diving jump in the bounce house. The velcro on the net door caught on your pants, pulling them off along with your boxers. We saw everything.”

I covered my mouth, smiling despite knowing I’d just cost us a point. The crowd was howling with laughter, and I could feel Dean’s shoulder shaking behind me. At least he was a good sport and laughing, too.

“Oh, wow,” the host said. She gave Dean a look, then theatrically looked back to the crowd. “Anybody else wishing they were at the party?”

A few feminine whoops and cheers rang out from the crowd and I wanted to roll my eyes again.

“Alright, Miss Moreno. Any guess on what your man would say your most embarrassing moment together was?”

Based on his answer, I thought he would actually put a real moment. God knew I’d given him plenty to choose from. “When we first met,” I said. “I threw up on him.”

“Ding ding ding!” The host held up the card and waved it around. “That’s three points! If this lovely couple can get the next two right, they’ll be our winners and move on to the fun and games portion!”

“We’re killing it, Sugar Bottom!” Dean whispered over his shoulder.

“Hell yeah, Daddypums!”

I was smiling and Dean chuckled behind me. The competitive side of me was ready to temporarily call a truce with him if it meant winning. I had no idea if there was even a prize for winning, but Pearl, The Destroyer of Family Fun at Reunions, didn’t really need a reason to compete–she just needed people to defeat.

“When was the moment you knew he was the one? Mr. Slater! What do you think she said?”

“Our first kiss,” he said simply.

I felt a wave of cold goosebumps go across my skin. I didn’t know why, because the answer was an obvious guess in our situation.

“Correct! Miss Moreno, this one is for all the marbles. Get it right, and you two advance to the final round. Tell us, what do you think he put for the moment he knew?”

I considered the question. I hated to admit it, but I thought I knew Dean well enough to know he wouldn’t put the kiss down as his answer. No. That was too predictable for him. I took a deep breath and raised my voice. “When I threw up on him.”

“Wow!” Both hosts jumped up and pumped their fists in the air as the crowd cheered for us. “That’s correct! Ladies and gentlemen, what a close game! But we have our winners!”

Dean got up from his chair and helped me up from mine. He gave me a significant look as I took his hand, eyes sparkling with some mischief and unknown thoughts. “We kicked the shit out of them!” he whispered excitedly.

“Maybe we’re not such a bad team,” I said.

“Okay! Thank you so much, but you four can go back to your seats.” The hosts were escorting the others back to their seats so only Dean and I remained. “This last round will decide if you get the grand prize or the consolation prize. There are two games. The first is called the Pumping Popper. The second is Kiss ‘em Like You Mean It.”

A wave of dread ran through me. Neither of those names sounded good. In fact, they sounded very bad. Especially that last one.

The second host came jogging back with a big cardboard box full of inflated balloons.

“Is everybody ready to see some pumping pops!?” the host yelled. All of our coworkers cheered and roared. I was surprised by how excited everyone sounded, but then again, I guess people didn’t really expect to have any genuine fun at a work event. They also all knew me as the girl who hardly ever took risks. Watching me embarrass myself on stage was probably extra fun for them.

“Now, just to turn the tables a bit,” the host continued. “Dean is going to be the one holding the balloons, and Miss Moreno is going to be the pumping popper. Does that sound good?!”

Another round of applause greeted her.

“My lovely assistant and I will demonstrate how this is going to go.” The host walked over to the crate of balloons, picked one up, then bent over and held it between her legs so it was resting against her bottom. The other host grabbed her hips and thrust her pelvis against her, popping the balloon between them.

There was scattered laughter and more clapping.

All I felt was icy dread creeping through my veins.

“You’ll have thirty seconds to pop the entire crate of balloons. Succeed, and we go to the final game! Are you two ready?”

Dean rushed over to the crate, kneeling in a semi-athletic stance. I couldn’t help smiling a little as I shrugged and waited right behind him, like some kind of pervert on the prowl. I couldn’t believe I was going to do this at all, but doing it in front of my sister, co-workers, and bosses was a whole new level of embarrassing.

“Hump that ass!” I heard a voice yell from the crowd. It sounded suspiciously like Marley’s voice, but I couldn’t spot her in the group.

“I’ve got the time right here on my phone,” the host said. “I’ll hold it up so you can see how you’re doing. Got it?”

I nodded.

“Let’s get pumping and popping! GO!”

She tapped start on her phone and Dean had a balloon between his legs faster than I could blink. I hesitated for a split second, then bit the bullet. I grabbed his hips and thrust myself into him. The balloon popped with no resistance and I felt myself collide with his ass.

Okay, not so–

There was another balloon, and I gave another thrust.

Dean was reloading the balloons so fast I realized I needed to just keep my hands on his hips. I started thrusting into him in rhythm, barely stopping when he bent slightly to grab another and tuck it between his legs.

There was a mixture of laughter, applause, and erotic little cheers from everyone watching.

And me? I was humping Dean Slater like my life depended on it.

Pop. Pop. Pop. I wished I felt the balloons, but they were popping so easily it really just felt like I was aggressively bumping myself into Dean’s perfect ass in front of the whole freaking world.

“Oh, wow!” The host called over the noise. Ten seconds left and this little pumper is really pumping! Look at her go! I think this might not be their first time trying this!”

I felt my cheeks go bright red, but kept on pumping, because I was too competitive to lose.

With four seconds left on the clock, I popped the last balloon and collapsed over Dean’s back, breathing hard. He reached behind himself, pulling my legs up from behind the knees and stood, punching one fist victoriously in the air as he spun with me on his back. I was laughing and had to wrap my arms around his neck to keep from falling. Everybody cheering for us felt weirdly good. When he set me down, I was too in the moment to do anything but give him a victorious hug.

And then my mood dampened when I remembered the name of the last game. “Kiss ‘em Like You Mean It”.

“Wow, wow. What fun! Now this last one is simple, and the crowd is going to decide if they win. For the record, we were going to go with our backup game if the couple of friends won, but since we have ourselves a bonafide couple up here, why not? These two have just been showing us what a perfect pair they are. But what is romance without a little steam, right? The truly perfect couple really knows how to make it sizzle, and they’re going to prove they’ve got that boom factor right here for all of us. They’ve got five seconds to kiss each other and convince us they’re head over heels. If they succeed, clap like your life depends on it. If they fail, give them a friendly little ‘boo’. Shall we?”

My heart was pounding out of my chest. Dean turned to face me, taking my hands in his fingertips and grinning down at me. He mouthed the word, “relax.”

I forced a deep breath and felt myself calm, just a touch.

“Are you two ready? Five seconds to prove you’ve got it!”

I gave Dean the slightest nod, and then it happened. His mouth was on mine and his lips were even softer and warmer than I remembered. I gasped into his mouth, feeling my knees threaten to give out just as he wrapped an arm around the small of my back, pulling me into him. I went light-headed as his tongue slid teasingly across my lower lip before he crashed his lips back into mine.

I brought both hands up to the back of his head, grabbing handfuls of his short hair and letting out another little moan–and oh, God, he was right. He’d said I moaned during our first kiss and there it was again.

“Five seconds!” The host called.

Dean pulled back and I found myself still inching towards him. He grinned and put a fingertip to my chin, breaking the moment. I blinked and felt suddenly awake. I realized my co-workers were all roaring with approval. I couldn’t make out a single “boo” from the crowd.

“Well?” the host yelled. “What do we say, folks? Is it true love?”

Wild cheers rang out and I even saw Jonas Pollard whooping and pumping his fist in the air. Lizzie had her hands cupped over her mouth and was smiling and yelling something I couldn’t hear.

“Then we have our winners! You two get an exclusive spa day tomorrow as well as a private, romantic night at the Chateau de Lorenz, a local three star restaurant. Everybody give it up for our love birds!”

I found myself smiling and clapping along with everyone else until the high of competition started to fade. A spa day? Dinner alone with Dean? Both of those sounded like very bad ideas that I wouldn’t be able to back out of without raising suspicion. When I glanced up at Dean, it seemed like he had come to the same conclusion, but the bastard looked downright smug about it.

“What are you so happy about?” I asked.

“I get to spend more time with my Sugar Bottom,” he said while having the audacity to reach behind me and give my ass a pinch. “Nice kiss, by the way. I don’t think the crowd could hear those moans, though. Were those just for me?”

I might actually kill him. It would solve my problem, at least temporarily. My parents wouldn’t try to set me up if I was mourning the tragic loss of my boyfriend.

13

DEAN

I’d showered, much to Pearl’s annoyance, and changed into boxers and an undershirt. My head was filled with the events of the day while I raked out my wet hair with my fingertips and then brushed my teeth.

Mostly, I thought about the kisses. Fuck. Those kisses had been something else. Every time I tried to tell myself this was all just a little fun, I went back to the moments when her lips were on mine. I thought about how good it felt to have her full attention like that–to make those sexy little moans spill out of her mouth.

There weren’t many certainties in life. Famously, I think they always said death and taxes were the only two. But I might have to formally add one to the mix, because I certainly wanted to fuck Pearl Moreno. Just after a day with her, I felt like a kid in a candy shop who had been allowed to sample the finest candy only to watch it go back behind the display case. Worse, the shop owner kept reminding me I wasn’t allowed to touch it.

All my life, I’d been touching shit I wasn’t allowed to touch. How was I supposed to stop now?

I took a deep breath, tried to calm myself, and walked out into the room.

Pearl had a book up and was wearing reading glasses. Adorable. She eyed me over the frames like a weirdly sexy little old lady. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“To my side of the bed.”

She set the book down. “Oh hell no.”

I paused at the foot of the bed, raising my palms and looking around the room. “Did you expect me to sleep on the floor? Or maybe that table there?”

“How about the couch?”

I laughed. “I’m six foot four, Pearl. Watch.” I went over to the couch and tried to lay down. One armrest was behind the back of my knees and the other was jabbing painfully between my shoulderblades. “This is like a couch for ants. Even you wouldn’t fit.”

She folded her arms. “Not if you try to lay all stretched out like that.”

I got up, rubbing my back. “We’re both adults, Pearl. I’m not sleeping on that couch. I’m definitely not sleeping on the floor. This is a king sized bed and I’ll promise to keep on my side if you do.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but she lifted her book again and sighed. “Fine. But if you come over to my side, I swear on everything holy I will smother you in your sleep.”

I grinned. “And if you come to my side, I’ll make sure you want to stay.”

She jerked her eyes up to me as I was sliding under the covers. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means there’s obviously tension between us. Sexual,” I added.

Pearl’s tongue slid over her lips. “There isn’t.”

“You can pretend if you want, but I know what’s right in front of me. The two of us would be explosive. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Yeah, maybe we would. But you know the thing about explosions? They tend to be bad for people at the center.”

“Sure are pretty, though.”

She scoffed. “Instead of taunting me, maybe we could try to figure out how we’re going to handle tomorrow?”

“Last time I had a spa day, I pretty much just had to strip down to a towel and sit around while people helped me relax.”

“You aren’t stripping down.”

I was still sitting against the headboard and I turned to get a look at her. She was wearing an old t-shirt, no bra–her nipples were announcing their presence around me, as usual–and I suspected she’d slipped her pants off and tossed them on the floor once she was under the blankets. Call it manly intuition about women in states of undress.

“If you’re so certain there’s no chemistry between us, why are you so afraid of seeing me with my clothes off?” I asked.

“I’m not afraid of it. I could really care less. I just meant–”

“Oh, good. So you won’t mind if I get more comfortable? Because I never sleep with my shirt on. It gets all bunched up when I toss and turn.”

Before she could stop me, I slid my shirt off over my head and watched her eyes fall down my bare chest to my stomach. She was frozen for a full second or two before she lifted her gaze to my eyes defiantly.

“See? Couldn’t care less.”

I grinned. “Great. By the way, I can’t say I’ve ever been treated like that by a woman before. You know, taken by the hips and used like a perverted dog's favorite stuffed animal.”

Pearl’s cheeks went scarlet. “I was just trying to win.”

“Hmm. You’re a strange one, Pearl Moreno. A mysterious woman, to be sure.”

“I’m not mysterious.” She almost sounded defensive.

“Well, you’ve so far refused to tell me anything about yourself. All I know is you barf when cheated on, you seem a little twitchy and nervous at times, and you’re a great kisser. Oh, you’re competitive enough to hump the shit out of me in front of your co-workers, too. So she’s nervous, but willing to step outside of her comfort zone if it’s to get something she really wants. So, what is it you really want, Pearl? Victory at all costs? A happily ever after? Are you a career woman?”

She stared off into space long enough I thought she might simply refuse to answer me. “You say I’m mysterious?” she asked.

Oh, we’re going to play that way? Turn the tables?

“I do,” I agreed.

“What about you? I don’t even understand what it is you do, exactly. You somehow work for Maxwell Pollard as a consultant? You’re an employee, but not an employee? What even is that? Who even are you?”

“All fair questions,” I said, holding up a finger and meeting her eyes wisely. “Questions I will answer once you answer mine.”

Pearl folded her arms. She liked doing that. Defensive, I supposed, unless she was trying to subtly imply she wanted my arms around her. Probably not. “What do I want?” she asked. “Right now, I really just want to survive the next two weeks without things blowing up in our faces.”

“Okay,” I said. “That’s a start. But what about after that? Everybody wants something. The dream job. The dream boy. The dream cat, even.”

“I’m allergic,” she said.

“To boys, jobs, or cats?”

She wrinkled her nose. Adorable, again. “Cats. And honestly? I don’t really know. Maybe get a promotion so I can start deciding which projects I spend my time on. Maybe leave the city all together? I’ve been thinking about all of it since Eric left, and I’m still not really sure. Before him, I thought I wanted the perfect guy, I guess. But the more of them I meet, the more certain I am that there's no such thing. Actually, let’s see… What kind of guys are there?” There was a dangerous edge to her voice. Clearly, I was part of the opposing team in this rant she was about to unload.

“Charming ones with good intentions?” I tried.

“No. There are men who want something from you. That’s it.”

“I was expecting a longer list.”

“There are different flavors, sure. There are the guys who want you to fix their life. The ones who want you to be their mommy and fold their clothes, make their appointments, and cook for them. Then there are the ones who are trying to use you to fill some hole in their life. Or the ones who just want to take something from you, use you up, and then move on once they have what they want. But that’s what they all do. They just take. Eric made me finally realize it, and that’s why I’m done with all of them.”

“Hmm. Is it possible you haven’t met the right one yet?”

“No. I’m convinced they all end up the same.”

“So which one am I?” I asked.

“I haven’t figured it out yet. But you do want something from me.”

Yes, yes I did. She was right about that. I wanted several somethings, in fact, starting with a kiss that wasn’t running on a five-second timer. I wanted to kiss her as long as I fucking wanted, but that was just scratching the surface. But I also wanted more than that. I wanted to help her heal, because she was clearly hurting. I also wanted to hunt down all the assholes who hadn’t treated her right and push them off bridges. Pearl deserved better than those assholes. She definitely deserved better than me.

“Well,” I sighed. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Far be it for me to change your mind.”

“Oh, come on. You were in the exact same situation as me. We both got cheated on. I’m guessing that wasn’t the first ugly breakup in your past, either. So please, tell me with a straight face that you believe in relationships.”

I grinned. “You say it like relationships are in the same category as Santa Claus or The Keebler Elf.”

“First of all, the Keebler Elf is a cartoon made to sell cookies. He’s not even in the same category as Santa. And no, I just mean you swore off women, too. So, if you think I’m wrong, then why aren’t you dating anymore?”

“Because I swore myself to you, obviously.”

She gave me one of those dry looks she had down to a science. “Be honest with me or I’m turning out the lights.”

I grinned. “Ohh. You sound like my camp counselor from middle school. Are you going to tell me to stop shitting on the toilet seats next? And for the record, everybody knew that was creepy Carl.”

“Dean,” she warned.

I let out a breath. I wasn’t exactly sure why I was trying so hard to avoid her question. “Alright. I guess it’s not that I don’t trust women. Don’t take this the wrong way, but it sounds like you’re blaming men for the failure of your relationships. I guess I agree. Because I blame myself, too. I’m the problem. I find a way to fuck it up eventually, so at some point I guess I don’t see what the point in bothering is.”

“How was Annabelle cheating your fault?”

“Well,” I said, thinking back. “She had been complaining that I didn’t ‘see’ her. I guess I was too caught up with work.”

Pearl nodded, as if she understood me fully from that one little detail. “I see. So you’re the workaholic type?”

“Hardly. But she wanted to go out the night before she cheated. I had a meeting with a new client that I couldn’t cancel. I told her we could go another night, but she didn’t get it. She felt like I was blowing her off and went without me.”

“She was cheating on you for weeks. I heard as much from Eric.”

“Oh,” I said. “Still. It was probably something else I did.”

“That’s bullshit. Cheating was her choice. I don’t care how shitty of a boyfriend you were. She could’ve just broken things off if she was unhappy. Cheating is a loser’s escape exit. It’s jumping out of a moving car and letting it crash into an orphanage instead of staying behind the wheel to put on the brakes.”

“Wow. Vivid.” I chuckled.

Pearl looked like she was pissed on my behalf, which was cute, but she let the anger drain from her face and grinned back at me.

“I’m still bitter, if you can’t tell. Eric was the first guy to ever cheat on me. And the last,” she added with a determination I couldn’t help but see as badass.

“Well, here’s to never letting anybody cheat on us again.” I lifted my little clear mini cup I’d taken from the bathroom sink. It was a quarter full with water and I extended it toward Pearl. She glanced at it, snorted a laugh, and tapped it with the edge of her paperback.

“Here’s to that. Now go to sleep. And if you try anything, I’ll make you regret it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, hoping I was lying. A dream about crossing the forbidden line between us and having a little fun for the first time in over six months? Yeah. I wouldn’t turn that dream away if it came knocking.

14

PEARL

I expected to wake up with Dean strutting around the room doing naked yoga or something. Or maybe that was just the dream I’d had confusing me. But instead, I didn’t see him anywhere. His side of the bed was a rumpled mess and his little cup of water was empty, but the big man himself was gone.

I carefully peered through the frosted glass of the bathroom, hoping I wasn’t going to see something that would haunt me. Nothing.

Where the hell was he? I glanced at my phone and saw it wasn’t even quite six in the morning. What kind of monster left their bed–let alone their room–that early?

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and decided to call Steph. She’d probably complain about being woken so early, but I could live with her annoyance. I’d been dying to unload everything that had happened on someone since about twenty minutes into entering the lobby yesterday. I still hadn’t told anybody else the truth about Dean, besides Steph. Even Marley had no clue.

To be fair, I only kept the secret from Marley because I didn’t want to get her in trouble. At some point, I realized I was playing with fire when I started using the lie to get out of work and brought Jonas into the web. If things ever went south, I wanted Marley to have plausible deniability so her job wouldn’t be in danger, too. If that meant having to lie to one of my only close work friends? So be it.

Steph answered, exaggerating the grogginess in her voice, probably to make sure I knew I’d woken her. “Who’s dead?” she asked.

“Nobody. But I have lots of gossip. Do you want to go back to sleep, or do you want to hear it?”

“Hold on. Let me pee first.” In typical ladylike fashion, Steph carried the phone with her to the toilet so I could hear her overly aggressive sigh of relief and the torrent of liquid hitting the water in the bowl. “Alright,” she said. “That’s much better. Hit me, sis.”

Hit her I did. From the kiss in the lobby to the naked shower through the glass to the game. For some reason, I found myself not wanting to include anything about the conversation we’d had in bed last night. Why was that? Was it because it was one of the only times Dean’s shroud of carefree humor had cracked to reveal the man underneath? I didn’t know, but I wound up just shrugging and telling her nothing interesting happened when it was time to sleep.

“Huh,” Steph said, sounding a little disappointed once I’d finished. “I mean, holy shit. But huh. I’m surprised he didn’t whip it out and start doing the helicopter or something once you two were alone at night. He really just went to sleep?”

“Yep,” I said. “And now he’s not in the room. I have no idea where he went.”

“Probably all sweaty and lifting weights somewhere. Guys who look like that practically never miss a day. Remember when I dated Sven? He kept a pair of dumbbells by the toilet so he could ‘get a pump while I do ‘da dump’. Disgusting. But those biceps? Mwah.”

“Ugh. That’s disgusting. But, maybe you’re right. He could just be working out, I guess.”

“So you guys get a spa day and some fancy dinner? Are you excited?”

“Kind of? It means I’ve got to spend all day with him. But then again, I don’t know how much talking we’ll really be doing during a spa day. Maybe he’ll keep his pretty mouth shut for once and just enjoy the treatment.”

“Hmm. Unless they put you in a sauna together and he starts stripping his clothes off. Or maybe a romantic hot tub.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It’s just so frustrating. After Eric, it sounded so easy. All I had to do was stop giving guys a chance and nobody could hurt me again. And it was working just fine. But this guy makes me… ugh. He’s obnoxious. Mostly, at least. It’s just that there’s something about him, it–”

“Talking about me with your girlfriends?” Dean asked. I had no idea how he’d let himself into the room so quietly, but he was standing at the foot of the bed in a sleeveless shirt and glistening with sweat.

“Pearl?” Steph asked, but her voice was quiet because I’d let the phone fall from my ear.

“Gotta go, bye,” I said quickly, then hung up.

“I was talking about someone in a movie,” I said.

“Oh, was it that Thor guy? He’s dreamy.” Dean moved to the closet where he’d hung up his clothes and pulled out an outfit. He looked over his shoulder, grinning at me like a total fucking hearthrob. His hair was dark and wet with sweat and dangling in front of his dazzling eyes. He didn’t even bother pushing the hair out of his eyes–of course he didn’t. He probably knew how ridiculously good he looked with those perfect white teeth and slabs of tanned muscle clinging to his flesh.

“Yeah,” I managed. “The Thor guy.”

Dean’s grin widened like he knew I was full of shit, then he went behind the frosted glass door to our bathroom. I probably should’ve averted my eyes, but I stared at the blurry shape of him behind the door and watched him peel the shirt off his back. I chewed my lip when he slid down his athletic shorts.

The shower water started running and he stepped straight in–not even waiting for it to warm up. Animal, I thought.

I banged the back of my head against the headboard once he was out of view. I was completely losing it. A text made my phone buzz. I picked it up and saw it was from Steph.

Steph: Did he walk in when you said that? LOL. Busted!

I rolled my eyes and tossed my phone back on the bed. I considered telling Marley the truth about Dean, because at least she wouldn’t revel in my misery like Steph did. But I knew I couldn’t do that. What felt like an innocent little agreement at first had somehow spiraled into a much bigger deal. The Pollard men were all wrapped up in this now. If it ever came out that I’d lied, I was sure my job would be gone. If I brought Marley in on the secret, she’d be at risk, too. On top of that, I had Lizzie to think about. These two weeks were all part of her perfect wedding. Some scandal involving her sister would tarnish her big day, and I couldn’t let that happen.

If everybody learned we were lying to them, I’d maybe lose my job, maybe ruin my sister’s wedding week, and definitely break my parents’ hearts. I had to make sure the secret stayed between us, even if it felt harder and harder to keep it.

I sighed. If nothing else, I needed to come to some kind of truce with Dean. I could tell he was toying with me. It was almost like he was daring me not to fall for him, and the cocky bastard knew how tall of an order that was.

15

DEAN

I’d never given a pedicure a try, but it wasn’t so bad. They’d given me a superbly comfy white robe at the front desk, and now my feet were kicked up. A man and woman were using some curious tools to scrape and hack at my toenails or scrub the dry skin from my heels.

I rolled my head to the side where Pearl was reclined. She didn’t look as relaxed as I felt.

“Lighten up,” I suggested.

She pressed her lips together, then dragged her eyes away from me and studied the ceiling.

I chuckled. “What did I do now?”

“I don’t get why we can’t just stick to the plan. We make…” she shot a glance at the people doing our toes and must have decided there was a minimal risk of what we talked about being repeated. “We make it look real, but why can’t we just lay off all the games behind closed doors? We could keep a respectful distance, only talk to each other when we have to, and maybe even work together to be sure it looks good in front of everyone else.”

“That all sounds very reasonable, yes,” I agreed.

“Okay?” Pearl perked up, scooting back in her chair and earning a glare from the girl at her feet. “So we can stop all the craziness?”

“Reasonable, but boring as hell,” I finished.

She deflated. “This is your idea of fun? Tormenting me?”

“Look,” I said. “I meant what I said back at Pollard. I’m done with relationships. Fuck ‘em. But I’m not going to pretend I haven’t wondered what it’d be like to… you know.”

Her brows crinkled. “You know? What does that mean?”

I felt myself smiling. I leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I’ve wondered what it’d be like to fuck you. No strings, of course.” I pulled back and saw her face had gone bright red.

“Dean.” She muttered the word like a silent curse.

I shrugged. “I prefer honesty and openness. All I’m saying is there’s clearly a lot of tension between us. Especially on your side. I think we’d both be able to relax and handle this more like adults if we got it out of the way. That’s all.”

“Especially on my side?” she hissed. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

“That frosted glass in our room is see-through both ways, you know. I’ve seen you looking.”

“Only because you flaunt yourself!”

“I could flaunt a steaming plate of broccoli in front of someone who has no interest in eating it. You think they’d stare at it? Face it, Pearl. You want my broccoli. You want it bad.”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what any of that meant. All I know is we both swore off relationships. And more importantly, we both have a lot on the line here. If we… did what you said, just imagine how messy things could get.”

I considered that. “We could lay out towels if you’re worried about getting something on the bed.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes for a long moment. I couldn’t help grinning a little.

“Messy. As in, what if one of us caught feelings? What then? Pretending this thing’s real is hard enough when we’re like this. What if one of us gets our heart broken or something?”

“You’re worried about catching feelings for me?”

“I don’t know,” she said, sounding frazzled. The people at our feet had moved on to a weird little punching massage that went up our calves. “But I’ve never treated sex like some kind of casual thing to just do for fun.”

“Oh, you’re actually considering it?”

“I didn’t say that. No,” she added after a second of thought. “I’m just saying your suggestion is stupid. Because feelings could get involved, and then it would turn this already huge mess into an even bigger one.”

“You’re worried you couldn’t sleep with me without falling for me. Got it. That’s all you had to say, Pearl.”

She turned her gaze back to the ceiling and folded her arms. “I’m done with this conversation.”

She wasn’t bluffing, because all my attempts to strike up conversation during our spa treatment were stonewalled.

We got some kind of creamy mud rubbed all over our faces. Then they led us to a blue-lit room and brought out IV treatments. Apparently, it was a vitamin infused drip followed by cryotherapy. To wrap it all up, we were finally led to a sauna and left alone for the first time all day.

Pearl sat across from me in her towel. I found myself watching the spaces above her chest and the smooth shape of her thighs as sweat began to bead across her skin. “How did you and that guy even get together in the first place?” I asked. “Eric, right?”

At first, I thought she was planning to ignore me some more. But she let out a long breath. “My family knows I have anxiety issues. That means things like dating and approaching guys can make me feel like I’m about to have a panic attack. So, usually, the ones I actually like slip away. The guys I end up dating are the ones my friends and family set me up with.”

“Have you been anxious your whole life? Or did something trigger it?”

“I’ve always been this way. I went to therapy a few years ago and it got a lot better. But I still have my moments.”

“My little sister is like that, too. When we were kids, she’d freeze up if we were in social situations. She used to cling to me all the time. I’d tell her if she got nervous, just give my hand a double squeeze. That’d be my signal to step in and cover for her. I’d get her out of conversations or keep an extra eye on things to make sure she was doing alright.”

Pearl raised her eyes to mine. “That’s surprisingly sweet.”

“Hey, I’m not a bad guy. Don’t look so shocked.”

She flashed a rare smile. “You’re not. No. But you are bad for me.”

“You wouldn’t know. You haven’t given me a chance.”

“Because neither of us wants that. Remember?”

“We can be friends. It doesn’t have to be a relationship.”

“Friends who want to sleep with each other?”

“So she admits it!” I clapped my hands, smiling. “And yes. We wouldn’t be the first. Friends who wouldn’t mind sleeping with each other. Friends who are willing to help each other out of a sticky situation.”

“That wouldn’t be terrible. The friend part, I mean. Because I never actually admitted I wanted to sleep with you.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “Your eyes are saying it, even if you won’t.”

The corner of her mouth twitched and then she looked away. “It’s really hot in here.”

“I’m told that’s the point of a sauna. Though, I’ve also been told feeling hot is a side effect of arousal.”

“The only thing you’re arousing right now is my annoyance, Dean.” She leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and seemed to give off the impression that she was done talking.

I made myself comfortable in the silence, but then my thoughts began to wander. Why was it so hard for me to give her what she was asking for? After all, my job was certainly on the line if this blew up in our faces. Maybe the Pollards would simply cut their contract with me and move on, or maybe they’d go scorched earth and try to make sure they brought my reputation down until nobody would work with me.

Both were possible, because my experience in the professional world told me people didn’t appreciate being lied to. Maybe my lie about Pearl had nothing to do with our business, but it would undermine their trust in me, which was everything.

Technically, I could lose the job and be fine. It wasn’t the income I was worried about.

After all, I had money. Plenty of it, in fact. I had “fuck you” levels of money, except I preferred to think of it more like “here you fuckin’ go” money. Sometimes, I’d take large cash withdrawals from the bank, stick them in paper bags, and leave them around the city. It let me skip all the awkward gratitude and attention I’d get if I handed people the money directly, but it felt good all the same.

Money wasn’t the problem.

It was losing my purpose. Without my work, what would I be? There was a time I thought I was the sort of guy who would make a good husband. I’d seen myself as the young, hard-working businessman who was almost ready to settle down. Then Annabelle happened and it all seemed to come full circle on me. No sane woman was going to settle down with me. No woman who wasn’t looking to use me, at least. So I shifted my focus into my work.

It was rewarding enough. I worked with the Pollards to streamline every aspect of their operation. I was good at it, too. That was enough, wasn’t it? So what if I didn’t have a white-picket happily ever after? I was working hard at something I was exceptionally qualified to do. Just in the last quarter, I’d helped Pollard Marketing make its biggest jump in profits ever. I’d guided the Pollards into hiring an entire staff of computer engineers to overhaul their client interface, which led to several multi-million dollar accounts signing on.

Even if Alec Pollard seemed to disagree with the direction I was leading his brother and their company, I should’ve been happy. I should’ve been terrified of losing what I was building here more than anything. Even if there would be other clients when my time at Pollard was done, this was my resume. It was my legacy.

Why, then, did I seem to be hell bent on testing the limits every chance I got? Why was I thinking of nothing but Pearl and how deeply I’d enjoy just one night alone with her–one night to teach her how good it could feel to let me have my way?

Because I was an idiot. That was why.

“What are you smiling about?” Pearl asked.

“Hm?” I didn’t realize she’d opened her eyes. “I was just thinking of the future.”

She made a dismissive noise and went back to ignoring me.

And me? I started looking forward to our dinner that night.

16

PEARL

I rolled the kinks out of my neck while I waited in a fold-out chair in one of the big conference rooms at the hotel. The entire staff was there and the din of conversation had risen to a loud hum as we waited for the speaker.

Marley was beside me messing with her phone. “You know,” she said after a while. “As far as work stuff goes, this thing really hasn’t been so bad. I mean this is like the first real ‘work’ meeting we’ve had to do since yesterday. I can live with that.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, although my time had been so consumed by surviving Dean, I wasn’t sure I felt the same way. Being here felt like a battle for survival, and I still had our dinner to get through tonight.

“Are you going to tell me about your luxurious spa day with your perfect boyfriend? It was this morning, right?”

“It was nice, yeah. We really enjoyed ourselves.”

“You look amazing. Super refreshed.” She got a devious look in her eyes. “You two fucked, didn’t you? That’s a fresh out the bed kind of look if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Oh, no way,” I said a little too vehemently.

Marley’s brows scrunched.

“I mean, last night. Yeah,” I said quickly, then regretted it.

She smiled wide, giving me a theatrical wink and a nudge. Then she sat back and got a dreamy look on her face. “Man. I still can’t believe you landed a guy like that. I mean, not that he’s out of your league or something. That’s not what I meant. I just meant like, that guy. He’s like bigfoot or something. You see him on TV, and one time, you think you even spotted him when you were taking a piss by your tent on a camping trip, but you don’t actually believe he’s real. I mean, big foot is definitely real, but I’m just making a point. And I’m rambling,” she added when she saw the look on my face.

I laughed. “He’s just a guy. I mean,” I added. “I really like him. But he’s not some mythical creature.”

“Oh, he’s mythical.” Marley let out a wistful sigh. “And if you’re so unimpressed with him, I’ll happily take him for a spin. Jacob from HR has been hitting on me nonstop this trip. I’ll trade you, if you want. Jacob for your man beast.”

I grinned. “Who?”

Marley pointed to the other side of the room where a guy with a thinning hairline and wisps of wild, stringy hair standing up was looking our way. He saw us looking, flashed yellowing teeth, and waved.

“I present Jacob. Still want to convince me your meatstick is nothing special?”

I snorted. “God. Please don’t call him a meatstick.”

“I’d use him like one,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes, feeling a fresh pang of guilt for not telling her the truth about him. I just had to remember it was for her own good, not because I wanted to keep secrets. I didn’t want my friend getting dragged down with my mess. “Well, did you know he’s the one speaking?”

“Uh, duh. It’s on our agenda. Why do you think I’m planning to film the whole talk? You know, because I’m such a good employee and want to re-watch this to make sure I catch every not-so-little bit. I might even watch it in the bathtub tonight. Naked,” she added, as if that wasn’t obvious. “That’s how dedicated I am to my job.”

“You are not filming my boyfriend for your perverted purposes,” I said, snatching her phone out of her hands. I felt a very real tug of jealousy at the idea, which was concerning. No. It wasn’t real jealousy. I was just acting. “You can have this back when he’s done. Or when you decide to start letting your brain drive instead of your vagina.”

“But my brain drives like a grandma and my vagina is the fun one.” Marley grinned as a thought seemed to come to her. “She knows how to drive stick.” She raised her hands and suggestively started pumping them up and down along an imaginary shaft.

I laughed. “God. I’m glad I know you.”

“Aw,” Marley gave my arm a hug and discreetly plucked the phone out of my hands while I was distracted. “And I’m glad you have the grip strength of a geriatric gnat.”

I scowled. “If I even suspect you’re in the tub with that video, I’ll throw a freaking toaster in there with you.”

Marley made a face of mock horror. “Plugged in or unplugged?”

“Depends how into that video you are.”

We were cut off when Dean finally emerged at the front of the room. We’d split off after our spa day. He went to make some kind of call while I got changed and dressed. He must’ve gone back to change after that, and he looked amazing. He had on a dark black suit with a crisp white undershirt and a dark gray tie.

He didn’t need to ask the room to quiet down, because his presence did that on its own. Dean was magnetic. There was no denying that. He was fascinating just to look at. I could’ve stared at him for an hour without getting bored, which was exactly what made him such a freaking pain in my ass.

Either way, I expected to be bored once he started talking, but Dean opened with a few off-the-cuff lines like a stand-up comedian and had everyone laughing. Without me even realizing it, he’d transitioned into talking about work. Mostly, he was talking about how our mental state can be a detriment or a boon. On its surface, the topic was something I could’ve found in a million self-help books or boring work meetings. But I couldn’t help but watch Dean with rapt attention–so much so that I hardly even noticed Marley with her camera rolling and the weird little moans of approval she made every time he turned and presumably gave her a shot of his ass.

I listened to Dean talk and thought I saw for the first time why he was so good at what he did. Without realizing it, I’d been assuming Dean only had all his money and success because of how he looked or things that had been handed to him. Watching him up there made me realize none of that was true. He made connections–even with an entire room of people. It didn’t feel like he was reciting a speech he’d practiced. It felt like he’d walked in here, taken a pulse on the room, and effortlessly started talking about exactly what we needed to hear. Nobody in the room was distracted on their phone or looking bored. People were even taking notes, though the Pollard men hadn’t asked us to.

Little by little, a growing but grudging respect for Dean blossomed in my chest. I could see the brain behind the man who never seemed to take anything seriously. I could see there was another layer to him. He actually cared about this stuff, and he was good at it.

I wasn’t sure why, but that seemed to matter.

I found myself clapping hard when he finished. Nearly an hour had passed in what felt like minutes, and Dean was smiling, waving, then leaving the stage. A few people stood and then the whole room was standing and clapping.

Marley was beside me, holding her phone with one hand and whooping loud while fist pumping with the other hand. It was like she’d just watched a concert instead of a speaker at a business conference.

“Man,” she said, holding her phone protectively. “That is an hour of pure gold. It’ll be worth the toaster you’re going to throw at me. Gotta go!” She winked, then rushed out of our row of seats.

I watched her go and couldn’t help smiling. I wondered what she’d think if she knew it was all a sham. The man my entire company was probably falling in love with after our couple’s game, and now that talk, wasn’t really mine.

I may not know if I actually wanted him to be mine, but I thought I knew exactly how Dean felt. I guessed he wanted nothing to do with being tied down. At best, he might want to act on the sexual tension he teased me about. But that sex would only be an act to help get me off his mind. In other words, he’d fuck me to forget me. Maybe that should’ve been flattering on some physical level, but it only made me feel empty.

Wasn’t that just like all the guys who came before? They only took what they wanted from me, then moved on. Dean was no different. I needed to remember that.

I sighed and followed the crowd out of the room, dreading dinner with him more than ever.

17

PEARL

I debated going back to the room to change before dinner, but decided there were two very good reasons not to. One was the possibility that I might run into Dean when I went to our room. After all the thoughts swirling in my head from listening to him talk in front of the staff, I didn’t fully trust myself to run into him alone yet. Especially not in private.

The other reason was I already had on a modest blouse and high-waisted skirt I’d worn for the work event. With my cardigan, it was perfectly appropriate for a fancy restaurant, and there was no smart reason for me to go fuss over my outfit. I needed to convince myself I wasn’t trying to impress him, even if I was starting to wonder about how true that was.

I had to stop myself in the hallway and talk through the anxiety bubbling up from every corner of my brain. No, I wasn’t going to blurt something stupid and mortally embarrassing the moment I saw him, like “Take my body and use me like a fuck doll.” For the record, I was only slightly worried I’d say something like that after spending an hour in awe of him while he spoke to the staff. And no, I wasn’t going to throw up on him. I wasn’t going to faint. I was just going to be a normal, well-adjusted human being.

I told myself all of that while focusing on taking deep breaths. It helped calm me a little, if not entirely.

Dean came striding through the lobby toward me a few minutes before we were supposed to meet. Jonas Pollard had presented me with an excessively generous gift card of a thousand dollars to cover our dinner after the company game the other night. He’d told me we needed to be in the lobby at seven sharp, because a black SUV was going to pick us up and take us to the restaurant.

Dean came right up to me, put a hand around my waist, and kissed me on the cheek. “You look amazing.”

I blushed so hard I thought I might get lightheaded. The only people watching were the two young receptionists at the front desk, who whispered and giggled something–probably about how hot Dean was.

“Nobody from work is watching,” I said. “You don’t need to pretend right now.”

“Who says I’m pretending? You obviously work for that body, and it looks amazing.”

I shot him a look. “Keep your eyes off my body.”

“What about my hands?” As smooth as silk, Dean slid a hand around the small of my waist. His pinky finger brushed the swell of my ass and made my skin erupt in goosebumps.

I wanted to say something clever and sassy, but all I managed was a choked. “No thank you.”

Grinning, he removed his hand and stuck his arm out for me to take. “Our car is out front. Shall we?”

Outside, the driver was already out and waiting with the back door open for us.

“Ma’am. Sir.” He said, gesturing for us to get inside.

We shimmied into the car and waited for the driver to come around to the front.

I felt a bundle of nerves in my chest and tried to tell myself to calm down again. I’d survived first contact, even if I could practically feel the burning imprint of where his finger has touched my ass. I wondered if he’d gotten hard, which led me down the unwise path of thinking he’d probably at least gotten a little hard when we kissed.

And then I had to remind myself that guys getting hard was about as consequential as the road getting wet when it rained. It didn’t mean they cared about you, loved you, or planned to treat you well.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean asked.

I shot him a look. Yes, I thought. I was just contemplating how many times your cock has gotten hard because of me and the implications of your erections. “What? Why?”

Instead of answering, he took my hand in his. “Give me a squeeze if you get nervous. I’ll cover for you.” He smiled reassuringly. None of his usual “fuck this, life is a game!” attitude was showing through. He looked sincere.

A gush of warmth toward him flowed through me, and I couldn’t even bring myself to jerk my hand out of his. I remembered how he said his little sister had anxiety. I could see how his presence had been reassuring for her now. I just hated that I felt so damn comforted by his big hand holding mine.

I expected him to tease me about not letting go of his hand, but Dean was uncharacteristically quiet while we drove.

I didn’t let go of his hand until we parked outside the restaurant and got out of the car. I kept watching him, waiting for some gloating comment about the hand-holding, but it didn’t come. He just took my arm again and led me into the restaurant, telling the hostess we had a reservation and following as we were led to a private, candle-lit table in the back.

I took a seat across from him and we thanked the waitress when she poured water for us.

“Wow,” he said, lifting the menu. “Fancy.”

I looked and realized I couldn’t read a damn word of it. Everything was in Italian. I swallowed hard, not wanting to admit I was way out of my depth here, for some reason. I guess I imagined a guy like Dean must eat at places like this all the time. He was probably used to bringing women with him who came from wealthy families, too. I bet they could pick out anything on this menu, order without butchering the pronunciation, and not make fools of themselves. It probably shouldn’t have mattered to me, but I couldn’t help feeling like a fool.

The familiar buzz of electric anxiety was starting to build inside me. My breath was coming faster and my vision was going black at the edges. I was sitting in a calm, quiet restaurant and my stupid fight or flight instinct was kicking in like I was being chased by a sabertooth tiger.

Dean glanced up from his menu. I was ready for him to ask me if I was okay again, but he just leaned over to point at an item on top. “I think this would be a good starter. I don’t know about you, but I feel like it’s hard to go wrong with bread. Right?”

I smiled slightly, feeling just a touch better. “Um, yeah. Definitely. Bread is good.”

“If you like sweet, fruity wine, this one is my favorite. I could order us a bottle.”

“Okay,” I said.

“For the main course, I was thinking maybe pasta. There’s a creamy sauce one here, but if you don’t like mushrooms it may be a bit heavy on the earthiness. Or if you’re in the mood for something safe, this one is basically going to just be a tomato sauce with meatballs. The truffle shaved on top is optional, if you’re into that.”

I took a shaky breath. What the hell was this? It was like he’d read my mind, saw what was stressing me out, and magically waved his hands to fix it. Maybe I was just seeing his experience dealing with a little sister who had anxiety. He was so effortless about it, though. So comforting.

For some stupid reason, I felt emotion tickling at the corners of my eyes. “Thank you,” I said softly.

Dean smiled kindly, and then the waitress came back to take our orders. He ordered for us, but made sure to make sure he understood what I wanted before passing the information along to the waitress with flawless pronunciation.

Once she left, I gave him a hard look. “What is this? Are you trying a new strategy to seduce me, or something?”

“Why? Is it working?” There was that boyish smile of his, again. Except I saw it in a different light this time. Before, I’d seen it as the cocky smile of a man who had the world handed to him on a plate. Now, I thought maybe it was more the smile of a man who liked to make people happy. He was someone who understood people, and he enjoyed taking care of them. But, maybe that was giving him too much credit. Maybe he was just the man who knew how to push people’s buttons, and he was trying to push the ones that would get me in his bed tonight. Our bed, I thought, considering we were still sharing a hotel room.

“Maybe a little,” I admitted.

His eyes twinkled, but he said nothing.

The waitress set down a bottle of wine and spent a little while doing the fancy routine of uncorking it, asking us to smell the cork–apparently that is a thing–and then pouring our glasses. While she was doing this, another man set down a plate of fresh, steaming bread. He poured oil on a black slab of a plate, minced fresh garlic on a cutting board he set up on a tray by our table, and added it to the oil. He finished by crushing herbs with a mortar and pestle, then sprinkled them in the oil and gave a little bow, wordlessly leaving us with our wine and bread.

“Sheesh,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere this fancy. If I’m being totally real, I barely ever go out to eat. Manhattan is ridiculously expensive and I barely make enough to cover rent. So I usually just scrape up what I can to cook for cheap.”

“If we hadn’t sworn off dating, this is where I’d tell you how much I would spoil you. If you were mine,” he added.

Those words made a prickle of heat swim across the surface of my skin. “Hypothetically speaking, what would you do if I was yours?”

His smile appeared with agonizing slowness and his eyes flickered with heat. “Are you asking about our hypothetical bedroom encounters, or the other stuff?”

I could feel myself blushing. “Both?”

“Well, I know it would take me several days to think of anything but having you all to myself. I’d keep you in bed until you were too spent to walk. Then I’d bring you breakfast in bed and we’d do it all over again.” His smile had faded to a shadow, and the weight of his words was hitting me with a palpable punch. From the way he spoke, I didn’t think he was bullshitting me. I could hear the desire and longing in his tone. “And when I wasn’t with you in bed, I’d want to spoil you. I would take you wherever you wanted. I’d let you do all the things you’ve wished you could but thought you shouldn’t because of money.”

I worked my lips to the side, studying him. “Is that what you do with all your girlfriends? Hypothetical or not.”

“No,” he said plainly. “I’ve never wanted to spoil a woman like I would spoil you. The rest of them? I guess I worry they want to be spoiled. Like they are only with me because they’re hoping I’ll buy them the world. So I don’t. And then I wait to see if that scares them off.”

“Does it?”

“Sometimes. But usually I think it’s just me.”

I found the plainness of his admission oddly heartbreaking. I wanted to say something to him. Something sweet and reassuring, but the words failed me.

Dean seemed to take my silence to mean the game was over. He picked up where we’d been. “Anyway, fancy places like this get old after a while. The really expensive restaurants are generally more about the presentation and experience than the food. Don’t get me wrong. The food is usually good. But sometimes the thought of getting put through the whole production is just too much. I’d rather have a greasy cheeseburger and fries from a takeout place.”

“Hmm,” I said, studying him as I lifted a piece of the bread. It was warm, soft, and still steaming. I gave it a dip in the oil, tasted it, and couldn’t help moaning a little. It was salty, sweet, savory, and there was this amazing aftertaste of herbs and the fattiness of the oil. It was going to be a challenge not to embarrass myself and eat the entire loaf of bread like a glutton in front of him.

“Hmm,” he agreed. He tore off a little piece of bread and chewed it, hardly seeming interested. At least he hardly seemed interested in the bread, that was. His eyes were fixed on me like I was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“So where’s the punchline?” I asked.

“Punchline?”

“Yeah. Up until this dinner, you’ve been going out of your way to make me uncomfortable and tease me. Everything has seemed like a game to you. Now all of a sudden you’re trying to be nice, sweet and understanding? It’s some kind of prank, right?”

“It’s no prank. Am I not allowed to take a break from being a pain in your ass? It’s exhausting, actually. Maybe I just wanted a nice, relaxing evening.”

I smiled over the rim of my wine. Like the bread, it was absolutely delicious. “I’m not buying it.”

“Okay. Maybe I’m only being nice because I’d like to get you on my side of the bed tonight. Would it be easier to believe that?”

“Sort of. But I don’t get the impression I’m your type.”

He tilted his head, eyes flickering in the candlelight as amusement played across his features. “What makes you say that?”

“You seem like a guy who probably wants the fun girl. Someone who never says no to something crazy. Someone who would get up and sing karaoke without hesitation. You know, someone like my sister.”

“And you’re saying you aren’t that girl?”

I snorted. “I once went to Ireland as a kid and spent nearly the whole trip in our hotel room reading books. Why, you ask? Because I was too scared I wouldn’t be able to understand people’s accent and I’d make a fool of myself. I’m practically allergic to adventure. Fun gives me a rash.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been with the kind of girl you’re talking about. Sure. But all of those relationships ended in flames. Maybe I’m curious what it would be like to date the girl who gets a rash from fun.”

“Date?” I nearly choked on the wine I was sipping. “Earlier, you were just talking about casual sex.”

“I’m not allowed to be curious?”

“I’m just trying to figure out which it is. Are you hoping to casually sleep with me so you can get me out of your system, or are you hoping to date me? Because I’m getting mixed signals.”

“Maybe that’s a decision I would make in the heat of the moment. Or maybe I’m just exploring possibilities I never plan to act on.”

I was blushing hard when the server came by our table with a little metal scraper she used to scoop crumbs from the tablecloth. I smiled tightly, waiting for her to finish.

“Who says there will be a hot moment for you to make that decision?” I asked. I was flirting now. I felt it through my entire body–from the tingle of heat in my belly, which was spreading dangerously downward, to the buzz in my head. Flirting when I’d sworn off men was like a vegetarian sniffing a sizzling prime rib. It was stupid. But I couldn’t stop myself. There was something in the moment. Something in his eyes. Something in the kindness he’d shown me and the electric crackle that seemed to thicken the air every time we were around each other.

“Hmm.” Dean plucked off another chunk of bread, dipped it, and took a bite. He sat back in his chair, chewing and watching me with a growing smile. “Well, I’d say my chances are decent. I know I’ve already got you down on the schedule to share my bed tonight and…” he pretended to check his watch. “Five more days until this conference is over. And if our benevolent boss setting us up with a shared room for the work conference is any indication, I’m guessing we’ll be bunking together in Fairhope, too. What do you think?”

I hadn’t thought of that. “It’s possible,” I said slowly.

“Our hot moment, or bunking in Colorado?”

I gave him a dirty look. “Bunking in Colorado.”

“Ah, I see.” He lifted his wine glass, swirled and sipped. “So we’re still playing hard-to-get.”

“Actually, I think we’re supposed to be playing fake relationship. Or did you forget the plan?”

“Plans change, Pearl. And people break vows all the time. Not that I’m suggesting I’m one of those people, mind you. I’m only suggesting that no plan should ever be immune to changing if the situation calls for it. My uncle Chester was divorced four times before he finally settled down with a nice retired man he used to serve with in the army. What’s a vow if you’ve been lying to yourself, after all?”

I watched him over the rim of my glass, taking another sip of the fruity, delicious wine. I probably should have been slowing down. I wasn’t a heavy drinker, and even the lone glass I’d had was already starting to make me feel a little loose. “What lie have you been telling yourself?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Dean said. The words were simple, but his tone was dripping with some kind of thinly-veiled seduction I couldn’t put my finger on. All I knew was I felt like each syllable was threatening to pull me across the table and into his arms. What the hell was happening?

“I think it would be wise for us both to just… stick to the plan. A fake relationship is simple. Feelings don’t get involved and it doesn’t blow up before it’s supposed to. We both need to get through this wedding, at the very least, and then...” I trailed off, not knowing how I wanted to finish that sentence. Then we could talk about it? Was I really going to say that? Did I really want that?

Maybe.

“Hmm.” He said it again, thoughtfully as if he was in no hurry. I felt like prey being circled by an apex predator–a predator who knew it could have me whenever it wanted, but it was waiting for some unseen moment to pounce.

The anticipation of being in his sights made my body prickle with pinpoints of fire. It also made me want to fight back, if for no other reason than because I was stubborn and something deep within me wanted to prove him wrong–or at the very least, make him work harder for it than he thought he’d have to.

“I never asked,” I said, breaking the silence. “Who’s trying so hard to set you up? They must be pretty persistent if you were willing to do something this extreme to get them off your back.”

“My brothers, actually. Pierce and Damon.”

“Wow. So you have a big family. What’s your little sister’s name? The one you mentioned earlier.” I felt a touch of relief. Moving away from the earlier conversation felt like stepping out of a looming trap that could’ve sprung at any moment. Now we were in safer territory.

“Laney. She’s twenty now and finishing up her degree in Manhattan. She’s really into conservation. Environmental spaces and endangered species. That sort of thing.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. What about your brothers? What do they do?”

“Pierce does high profile legal stuff. Mostly representing celebrity clients. Damon is in real estate.”

“Quite the family,” I said. “Did your parents run some sort of boot camp for budding billionaires, or something?”

Dean smiled. “No, actually. Our mom got sick when we were young and passed when I was twelve. Our dad worked two jobs and could never seem to get ahead, so the three of us were all trying to chip in by the time we were in high school. Working hard was a necessity, so it was natural to keep doing it. I think we all wanted to make sure Laney didn’t have to grow up like we did, too. We wanted to make sure she had everything she’d need.”

I smirked. “I’d say you guys might have overachieved a little on that mark. But it’s sweet of you to care so much about her.”

“We all do,” he said. “She was just a kid when mom passed.”

“So were you,” I said softly.

His eyebrows twitched together and he seemed to shake off the truth of what I’d said. “I’m the oldest. Looking out for the rest of them helped distract me, I guess.”

I thought of how good he seemed to be at reading people–how much he tried to take care of them. It made a little more sense. He’d been doing it ever since he was young, after all. “But who looks out for you?”

He seemed to snap out of whatever emotion was starting to claw up from his insides. His easy smile was back, along with his carefree confidence. “I’ve done fine for myself. I can handle it. I always have.”

I smiled, but I felt something in my chest go out for him. Dean had spent his whole life worrying about other people. I wondered if his relationships all failed because he wasn’t willing to let anybody take care of him, but I didn’t feel like it was my place to ask about that–even if the wine was definitely getting to my head. But I definitely couldn’t stop from thinking that if he was ever mine, I’d want to give him a taste of what it felt like to be taken care of for a change. I would want to show him how he made other people feel.

“So, why do your brothers want to set you up so badly?” I asked after our food had been set down. Mine was just as Dean had described, and absolutely delicious. I’d saved a little bit of the bread to dip in my sauce, and I was glad I had. The combination was almost better than an orgasm.

“Because they don’t know how to mind their own business, I guess. What about you? Why are your parents so keen to see you hitched?”

I rolled my eyes at the thought of them. “Because they’re the picture-perfect couple. My mom was a dancer on a cruise ship and my dad was a cook. They met on a ship in the Florida Keys and had a storybook romance. They make each other complete, and I think they can’t imagine anybody existing alone. They think everybody has a story like that waiting for them, and they’re worried I’m not going to find mine. Something like that,” I said.

“Do you believe that?”

“I used to.”

The candlelight was reflecting in Dean’s eyes, and when he smiled, I felt like I was melting as easily as the wax between us. “I suppose the two of us need to convince everybody we believe it, don’t we?”

“You don’t?” I asked.

“The only thing I believe is that I don’t know shit about relationships. If reality wants to step in and show me I’ve been wrong, I’ll give it an ear.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. It felt like he was saying the conversation we’d had back at Pollard months ago wasn’t important to him anymore. Back then, I’d felt safe doing this because he sounded just as disillusioned with love and commitments as I was. Now he was basically telling me he wasn’t sure about all that.

Were his words an invitation? If they were, I thought they were like an invitation to a trap. The only thing I felt certain of was that Dean Slater was dangerous for me. He was dangerous because I was getting closer and closer to thinking it was worth giving the whole relationship thing one last shot. But what happened with Eric had nearly broken me. I didn’t think I could survive something like that again, and I wasn’t sure if I was really reckless enough to unlock my heart and release it from the box I’d stuffed it in.

“This is really good,” I said to break the silence. I was talking about my food, but Dean made eye contact with me and smiled in a way that said he wasn’t talking about anything but me and the night we’d had.

“It was amazing,” he said.

18

DEAN

By the time we made it back to our hotel room, we were both tipsy from the wine. Pearl was in a rare and very enjoyably good mood around me. I kept finding myself smiling because I hadn’t had a conversation like that in a long time–maybe ever. Usually, the women I dated wanted to talk about the designers they wanted to wear or the exotic places they’d been or the people they knew. It was always a pissing contest.

Nobody ever stopped long enough to give a shit to ask about me or to be open when I asked about them. Talking with Pearl was refreshing as hell.

Pearl was holding my arm as we came in the room. We both laughed when the toe of her shoe caught on the metal partition beneath the door and she almost took a spill. I caught her and pulled her up, accidentally spinning her until her chest was pressing into me. One of my hands was interlaced with hers and the other was on the small of her back where I’d reached for her.

She felt good in my arms. Damn good. And not for the first time, it occurred to me that I didn’t like the idea of some other man holding her like this. Maybe what we had was supposed to be pretend, but I wanted to keep pretending, if only so I’d know I was the only one who got to hold her like this.

It didn’t help that I felt like I was getting to know her better, too. She might be a firecracker on the inside, but she was a bundled mess of nerves just beneath it. Knowing that made me want to be there for her down the line–to make sure she was taken care of. I sure as hell didn’t like the idea of her heading off to be with some other asshole who wouldn’t see her for what she was. He’d miss her value like the ones before apparently had. He wouldn’t treat her right, and the thought of it made me want to pull her closer and whisper that I wasn’t going to let her go, pretend or not.

Pearl ran her tongue across her lips, big eyes lifted to meet mine. “Are you planning to let me go, Dean?”

“I was actually enjoying holding on to you.”

“Nobody is watching.”

I thought she must’ve meant the words as a reminder. After all, we didn’t need to pretend to care for each other when we were alone. I pretended to interpret her words another way. “You’re right. It’s just us. That means nobody is here to call us on breaking our own rules. Just this once.”

“Is that all it would be?” she breathed the words, each syllable a hot little puff of air on the skin above my collarbone. “Just one time.”

“Maybe,” I said.

Pearl seemed to think this over for a long while. I held her there, feeling the soft but quick pace of her breathing from where my hand held her back–my fingertips just barely giving me a taste of the curve at the top of her ass like how I’d held her in the lobby before the restaurant. I wasn’t sure I’d ever wanted someone the way I wanted Pearl at that moment. I’d never needed someone. And I felt myself hanging onto the silence between us, desperate to hear some sort of invitation, because I wasn’t sure what I’d do if she turned me down.

“It can only be this one time,” she said carefully. She was breathing even harder now, so the temptingly soft flesh of her cleavage was drawing my eyes as it pulsed with each intake of air. “Just this one time. And we both have to agree not to… start feeling things for each other.”

I was far too desperate for jokes or caring about the circumstances. All I heard was “yes”. My cock throbbed between my legs, so ready to be inside her that it actually hurt.

“Just this once,” I agreed. “No feelings,” I added, even though I wasn’t certain I could hold up my end of the agreement on either count. Maybe that’s why I was the kind of asshole women never settled down with. It was exactly why I wasn’t the right person to take care of Pearl the way she deserved. But tonight, I only planned to borrow her. I’d give myself a tease of what being with her would be like and I’d avoid all the pitfalls of an actual relationship.

Just a taste.

With how serious she looked, I almost expected Pearl to lead me to the table in our room so we could draft up an iron-clad “no attachments” contract. So when she reached up and took my tie to tug me down to her mouth, it took me a moment to react.

Her lips were warm, soft, and fucking incredible. Her tongue eagerly met mine as her hands slid up the nape of my neck and into my hair. We both started stumbling as we kissed toward the bed until she backed me into it and fell on top of me with my knees bent over the edge.

“This doesn’t mean I’m falling for you,” she panted before kissing my neck.

I took two very enjoyable handfuls of her ass through the tight skirt she had on, grinding her into my pulsing erection and drawing a gasp from her.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Just sex.”

She stuck her hand between my legs, gripping me hard enough to make me arch my back and squeeze my eyes shut in pleasure. “You have something to wrap this up?”

I grinned. “I knew I was going to be on a trip with my darling girlfriend for two weeks. I brought enough to get us through.”

She smirked up at me and rolled to the side, letting me roll over and go to the bag I’d put in the nightstand. I pulled out a Costco sized box of condoms I’d picked up. There were roughly two hundred in there.

Pearl was biting back a smile. “Somebody was ambitious.”

I shrugged. “The world doesn’t need a little Dean running around it.”

“No. But two hundred? How much action were you hoping to get?”

I popped a condom free and tore it open. “According to you, significantly less than I was hoping.”

“You came here planning to sleep with me?” There was an edge of warning in Pearl’s voice. I sensed that what was about to happen might depend on how I answered her question.

“I came prepared for anything. I also packed thermal underwear in case we get snowed in. The forecast has the low in Colorado never going above 10, but I wanted to be prepared. If the two of us got along really well and things progressed, I just wanted to make sure I was ready. That’s all. No plans. No manipulation.”

She seemed to mull over my explanation for a bit, and then she nodded.

I held back a sigh of relief and lifted the condom. “Do I still need this?”

Instead of answering, Pearl simply crawled back on top of me and found my mouth with hers. The kiss was dirty, hard, and absolutely perfect. I dug my fingertips into her ass, grinding her body into mine as she spread her legs, beginning to slide herself against my erection. Each time she moved, a little moan slipped from her.

I’d spent more time than I cared to admit imagining this moment with Pearl, and every scenario in my head went slow. I took my time unwrapping her from her clothes. I savored every inch. I dragged it out until she was absolutely begging me for an orgasm.

But I didn’t anticipate the magma in my chest. There was a pull to be inside her stronger than gravity–stronger than common sense. It was all-consuming, and it blacked out my thoughts.

I was barely conscious of getting out of my clothes, but somehow it happened. We kissed and struggled with each other’s underwear–her reaching to pull mine down as I tried and gave up taking her bra off nicely. I simply pulled it over her head, drawing a breathy laugh before she dove back toward me for more kisses.

I cupped her breasts and she sat up on me, straddling me so I could feel the heat and slickness of her arousal. As she sat and rocked her hips on my cock, which was still pressed flat to my stomach. I lifted my head to watch her folds sliding along me, grinning up at her. “You think you get to drive?” I asked.

“Huh?” was all she said before I’d flipped her to her back on the bed. I grabbed the condom, slid it on, and climbed on top of her.

“You’re mine right now. And this is going the way I say it goes.”

“Bossy,” she whispered.

“I am, and you’ll be glad I’m in charge before I’m done with you.”

“Is that right, boss?” she asked.

I grinned, deciding to let my hand do the talking instead of my mouth. I slid my fingers between her legs, drawing a quick intake of breath and a widening of her eyes. I used a little trick of dexterity to do several things all at the same time, curling my fingers inside her and circling her with my thumb.

She immediately tensed, bucking up against me and pushing my fingers deeper still.

Watching her face as she writhed against my touch was everything I’d hoped it would be and more. Without looking away from her, I bent my neck to kiss her hardened nipples, teasing them with my tongue while my fingers did their work.

In seconds, Pearl was gasping and moaning, hands clutching me like she thought she might be suddenly ejected from the bed at any moment.

From the pace of her breaths, I sensed she was getting close, but I greedily wanted her to finish on my cock, not my fingers. With what I hoped was agonizing slowness, I drew my fingers from her, sliding them up her folds as I took them away. I lifted my hand between us and waited until her eyes fluttered open. With a grin, I sucked her arousal from my fingers, then gripped myself and guided my cock to her entrance.

“I was so close,” she said, almost in a whimper.

“Good. But I’m not wasting your first orgasm with me on my fingers. I’m going to enjoy feeling your walls close around me when you come for me.”

“God, are you always this dirty?”

“With you,” I said.

Her cheeks flushed red and with her hair a wild mess splayed out around her face, she looked more beautiful than ever. I kissed her, then, without mercy, I plunged inside her. I knew I was bigger than average, and I knew it wasn’t exactly kind to make her take it all at once. But I was so far past being courteous or kind. I was hungry. Ravenous. All I wanted was her. I wanted every fucking inch, and I could hardly stop myself from flipping her on her back right then and railing her.

Pearl was surprisingly flexible, and her legs bent wide, allowing me to plunge as deep as I pleased into her.

She gasped, fingernails digging into my back as I worked my way in and back out again, savoring the sensation of her friction.

I wanted to look at her beneath me but I found my eyes squeezing shut as I gripped the sheets beside her, clenching until my fingers hurt. I drove myself into her again and again, breathing hard along with her. I’d known I would enjoy this. I’d known it was going to feel good as hell. The part I hadn’t expected was the connection I felt. Everything we’d talked about in our brief time together. Everything I knew about her and the countless things I still wanted to learn. Being with her like this was making it all take on a new, deeper meaning in a way I couldn’t fully grasp in the moment.

All I could really say was I felt myself slipping toward something–something I didn’t think I would be able to pull myself out of, even if I wanted to.

I lifted my head, looking down at Pearl’s face. She was staring back at me, eyes lit with something that seemed both alarmed and excited. Was she feeling the same things I felt?

I forced my thoughts away and focused on what I was doing with all my energy. If this was the only time, I was going to make it count.

When I felt my own orgasm coming, Pearl sped it along by gasping out and curling up to cling to my torso. She wrapped her legs around my waist, clinging to me as I fucked her. Her walls clenched, practically begging me for my own release.

I groaned with the effort of holding it back, then finally couldn’t any longer. My climax ripped through my body like ten tons of explosives–like taking a sledgehammer to the face.

I gasped as my cock twitched again and again inside her and she continued to squirm and moan beneath me.

I finally rolled off her to my back so we were both lying the wrong way across the length of the bed. She looked over at me, eyes still fuzzy with pleasure. Her lips were red and a little swollen from the intensity of our kisses, and her bare breasts rose and fell rapidly with each heavy breath.

She looked into my eyes and I looked back. In that wordless moment, I thought I could’ve dictated her thoughts word for word if I had to. I was pretty sure they would’ve sounded a hell of a lot like mine, too.

I could’ve told her right then and there that I wanted to make this thing real. No more faking. No more pretending. Because the shit going on in my chest at the moment was absolutely real. There was no denying that.

But the force of those feelings scared the shit out of me.

I’d never cared this much about a woman, let alone one I’d practically known for a handful of hours. It wasn’t just ridiculous, it was dangerous. If I could be tempted to fall this hard after just a day or two, what would happen after weeks? Months? What would happen when I put every last ounce of hope I had into making this shit work and it ended up failing like every other relationship I’d been in?

I’d be broken. That was what.

So I let the moment drag on and instead of speaking from my heart, I decided to speak from that place men like me were excellent at speaking from. My asshole. “Well,” I said. “Glad we got that out of the way. Now I don’t think we need to worry about any sexual tension.” It was bullshit. A thousand percent bullshit, in fact. But I hoped it would sting just enough to make her pull back and erase the possibility of anything forming between us. I didn’t trust myself not to reach for it in a moment of weakness, so I needed to push Pearl away while I could.

I got up from the bed, pretending I didn’t see the flash of hurt in her face. I pulled on my clothes–which was easier said than done, considering we’d managed to fling them in several different directions–and headed to the bathroom to clean up.

Once the frosted door was closed, I felt like hanging my head over the sink. Hell, I felt like going back out there to her and telling her that was bullshit. But a few hours ago, I thought I was in control. I thought if we did try to make something of what was between us, it’d be something I could stand to walk away from. I thought if we had sex, I’d decide if I wanted more or not. I didn’t expect what was happening to me.

So maybe it was shitty of me. Maybe I’d regret it. But I stayed in the bathroom until I heard her get up, get dressed, and leave the room a few minutes later. I wasn’t sure where she was going, but I decided it was probably best for us both to have space. I knew I needed it.

19

PEARL

I padded barefoot through the hotel, down the elevator, and to the bar off the lobby. There was a big butcher block counter beneath a thick archway of pale logs that had been polished smooth. I glanced at my phone, saw it was past midnight, and took a spot at the bar. I recognized a couple of groups there from work, and hesitated with my phone still in my hand. I thought about texting Marley and asking her to meet me here.

But what would be the point? I couldn’t tell her the truth about Dean and me, so I couldn’t explain why it felt like my heart had just been ripped in two.

The woman behind the bar had dark hair, tattoos from her hands up to her neck, and a pierced nose. I judged she was a little older than me. Also infinitely cooler.

She noticed me and came over. “What’ll you have, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. I didn’t know why, but the simple word made me feel like I was about to crack. I felt tears well in my eyes and forced a casual smile, hoping I could fake my way through the emotion threatening to rise up. “Water?” I choked out.

She worked her lips to the side, then planted a palm on the counter. “You sure you don’t want something stronger? It looks like you could maybe use it.”

“I think alcohol got me into the mess I'm in, actually. I’m kind of mad at it right now. So water is probably smart.”

The woman was clearly a veteran of hotel bartop woes, because she held up a finger, asking me to hold that thought. She went around, topping off everyone’s drinks, then came back with my water and leaned on the counter in front of me with a sympathetic smile. “Let it out, girl. Who just broke your heart?”

I sipped the water, finding I was surprisingly thirsty. I drained half of it in one go, and the bartender smiled, using her little gun on a hose to top it off once I finished.

“I think heartbreak might be a bit strong,” I said carefully. “We barely know each other.”

“So? Breaking things is easy. And sometimes people catch us at the wrong time. We’re quick to give them the keys, and they make us regret it.”

I sighed. “I mean, the thing is, I swore off dating. The whole point of that was to avoid getting my feelings hurt again.”

She planted a palm on the counter, tilting her head at me. “Someone must’ve really done a number on you to swear off dating. I mean, sex is still on the table, right? Just no dating?”

“Sex wasn’t supposed to be on the table. Or the bed,” I added with a sad grin.

She smiled back knowingly. “Okay. I think I’ve seen this one. You guys both knew the score. It was supposed to only be sex, but it felt like more than that. And he didn’t share the feeling,” she added carefully.

“Ding ding.” I threw back a long chug of water like it was hard liquor.

She flashed straight teeth. “Careful, hun. Go too hard on that water and you might get a cramp.”

I chuckled. “I’m probably just being dramatic. I mean, I didn’t really say anything that put myself out there. What he actually said wasn’t that bad. I guess I’m just reading way too far between the lines.”

“What did he say?”

I waved my hand around, trying to call up the exact words. “Something like, ‘well, now we don’t have to worry about sexual tension anymore.’” It was as if he saw what sex with me was like and realized he’d never crave that again. Like the time I tried mint ice cream. I always thought the green color was pretty and craved it, but I’d cave and get chocolate at the last minute. One time with friends I went for it and got the mint.”

She was watching, eyebrows raised and a smile spreading her lips. “And?”

I shrugged. “Nothing special. I realized you only need to try some things one time. That was mint ice cream for me. And I feel like I’m his mint ice cream.”

She narrowed her eyes, thinking for a bit before speaking. “So he said you won’t have to worry about sexual tension anymore. Does that mean you and this guy work together? You’ll be seeing him around more, I assume?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It always is. So what are you going to do about it?”

“What options do I have? I’m going to pretend it didn’t mean anything to me, either.”

“But it did, right?”

I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “It was the best sex of my freaking life. I’m still getting warm chills.”

“That’s a shame. If a guy can dick you down that good, it’d be worth keeping him around. You don’t think you should maybe feel it out? Ask a few careful questions? See if maybe you misunderstood somehow?”

I shook my head. “No. Because at the end of the day, I swore off men for a reason. If I’m this screwed up over an innocent comment, I’m clearly not ready for a real relationship yet.” I felt myself gaining confidence as I spoke. “And so what if the sex was amazing? Maybe he has some weird, annoying habit that would drive me crazy. Like biting his toe nails.”

“Biting his toe nails?”

I shrugged. “The point is, sex is sex. It’s not everything. So, I’m fine. Thank you. This really helped.”

She flashed a bemused smile. “I’m glad I could help?”

20

DEAN

It had been a long while since I called in backup from family over a relationship. I considered calling Pierce and Damon, but I knew they’d give me shit. Pierce was in the middle of a big trial. His firm was representing a celebrity being accused of manslaughter because his questionably legal panther escaped from his convertible, disappeared into the forest, and allegedly killed a camper years after the escape. Pierce was trying to make the case that the panther was actually the offspring of the original panther, which would absolve his client of guilt. The prosecution was claiming the fact that the panther had offspring made it even worse, because they weren’t native to the area and wouldn’t be there if the client hadn’t illegally released a panther.

He’d rambled about it to me for a few hours last month and I mostly thought his client was a dumbass for having a pet panther in the first place. He fucked around, and he found out, if you asked me. But I knew Pierce had a weird moral wall he put up with his job. He saw it more as a challenge to win the argument and less about the question of true guilt. It’s exactly how he was as a kid, so it was no surprise.

And then there was Damon, who had just taken on a hugely stressful project to develop an area previously under environmental protections. He was trying to thread needles between prime real estate opportunities and not kicking a hornet nest of conservationists and legal issues if his work impacted endangered species and plant life. In the process, he was also catching a metric fuck-ton of shit from our little sister, Laney. Both brothers were, in fact. She had a supremely soft spot for animals and wildlife spaces, and wasn’t on the best terms with Pierce and Damon because of where their work was taking them.

Honestly, both of my brothers were assholes who only thought about what they wanted and not how it impacted anyone else. They plowed through life without much concern over the consequences. Still, they were family, and I loved them. It was just that I already thought I knew what they’d say about my little problem if I told them. Pierce would probably craft some elaborate argument for me to use to convince Pearl our vows to swear off relationships were made under duress, and therefore they don’t hold up six months after the fact. Damon would tell me if I wanted her, I should simply go after what I wanted, consequences be damned.

Both of them would also fall back on trying to set me up if I convinced them things with Pearl wouldn’t work. It was why I’d been desperate enough to fake having a girlfriend in the first place. My little brothers saw problems as obstacles, and they devoted their lives to overcoming obstacles in their own ways. It just so happened that both of them saw me being single as one of those overcomable obstacles.

Needless to say, I called Laney for advice.

She picked up, voice thick with sleepiness. “Is everything okay? What time is it?”

“Sorry,” I said. “It’s late. But I was hoping I could pick your brain.”

I heard shuffling, a yawn, and then Laney sounded a little more awake. “Okay. Are we talking about a toothpick or a miner's ax?”

I grinned. Even half-asleep, Laney could always get a smile out of me. “I’ve got myself in a bit of a situation.” I spent the next few minutes unloading everything. Laney already knew I was planning to take a break from dating, but I hadn’t told a soul about my little agreement with Pearl.

“Wow,” Laney said once I’d gotten her up to date. “That is pretty hare-brained, even by your standards.”

“It sounded like a good idea at the time.”

“You mean when you just had your heart torn out and weren’t thinking straight? That’s usually why you shouldn’t make big decisions right after a break up.”

“Yeah, noted for the next time I get cheated on. I’ll wait at least three days before I hire a fake girlfriend.”

“The thing I don’t get is why you thought you needed a fake girlfriend. Did you really think me and those two would try to set you up with someone if you didn’t want it?” Those two meant Pierce and Damon.

“At the time, I think that’s what I told myself. Maybe I was actually more worried I’d go back on the plan if I didn’t have something holding me accountable. Maybe it was fake, but it was a relationship of sorts. And I don’t cheat. So my little deal with Pearl kept me on the straight and narrow. I wasn’t even flirting.”

“You realize you’re too good for all these women who have let you down, right?”

Typical Laney. She only saw the best in me, and I loved her for it. “Pearl is different,” was all I said.

“Wait.” I could hear the alarm in Laney’s voice, and immediately regretted what I just said.

“I just mean–”

“No,” Laney cut me off. “I heard something just then. Is that my big, stupid brother falling for someone?”

“I’ve fallen for people before. But that’s not what happened here.”

“That’s why you’re calling me. You set up this fake thing and now you have real feelings. Right?”

“No.” I sighed, pacing with the phone in my hand as I wondered why the hell I did call. I wasn’t about to tell my little sister I just had the best sex of my life. Sex that was supposed to cure me of my obsession with Pearl, but it had done the exact opposite. Now I was terrified of what would happen if I let things keep going down this path. “I’m just tired of not telling anyone. That’s all.”

“Look, I know you’re not going to admit the full truth to me right now. I doubt you’re even admitting it to yourself. But listen to me. You are an amazing person, okay? You are always putting other people first. You make everybody fall in love with you, even if you don’t realize it. You’re just magnetic like that. I don’t know anything about this girl, except that her heart was broken. Same as yours. But I do know if she has been spending time with you, she’s probably already falling for you, no matter what she promised herself. And if she’s got you calling me in the middle of the night, then she’s important to you. So, take your little vow to swear off relationships and shove it. Give her a chance. That’s my advice.”

“Thanks, Laney,” I said, knowing I didn’t plan to do any of what she’d suggested. “I should let you go. You probably have tests or some shit tomorrow.”

“I do, actually. And I love you, stupid.”

I grinned. “Love you too, shrimp.”

I ended the call and raked a hand through my hair. Sometimes life presented two doors. One was labeled “dumb choice” and the other was labeled “smart choice.” And sometimes? Sometimes you had to open the dumb door and walk that path.

* * *

I ended up wandering down to the hotel lobby around two in the morning after my call with Laney. I spotted Pearl at the hotel bar. There was a big glass of what I thought was ice water in front of her. She was chatting with the lady behind the bar. I felt a guilty tug of relief to see she wasn’t talking to any men.

I took a deep breath and decided we had to put some kind of lid on what just happened. In typical “me” fashion, I approached with absolutely no plan, hoping my ability to wing it would pull through like it usually did. All I knew was my goal. I wanted us to agree to a cease fire. No more casual sex. No more flirtation. We could just agree to handle this the way she said she wanted. Like partners in crime, minus all the sexual tension.

I took the stool beside her. “Hey,” I said.

The bartender bulged her eyes at Pearl, silently asking some kind of question. “Is that him?” was what I guessed she was thinking.

Pearl gave a subtle nod.

The woman glared at me in a way that said Pearl had already unloaded my dirty laundry. “I’ll have what she’s having,” I said. I still felt a little of the wine we’d had and didn’t want to pile more impairment on top of it. I’d seen what a bad idea that had been around Pearl in the first place. Getting tipsy again wasn’t even remotely smart.

The bartender filled my water, gave Pearl a wink, and headed off.

“I was thinking we could patch things up,” I said. “We got of all the dirty stuff out of the way, and I’m ready to do what you wanted. We can work together to make this look real, and I’ll start leaving you alone when we’re behind closed doors from now on.”

Pearl watched me with a tight expression. She nodded. “I think that would be smart.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Great.” I got up, dusting my hands. “That was easier than I thought it’d be.”

Pearl’s smile felt a little more like she was baring her teeth at me, but I decided to ignore my intuitions and what they were telling me she really felt. Asshole. Heartless. Coward.

“Well,” I said. “I’m going to go up and get some sleep.”

I saw that Pearl was barely holding back some kind of emotion. Was she on the verge of tears?

Fuck. I could be an asshole to a degree, but despite what she might be starting to believe, I had a heart. I leaned in and gave her a hug–partly telling myself it was for show if any of the others at the bar were watching. I planted a kiss on her cheek, then put my lips to her ear. “I enjoyed the shit out of that, by the way. You were great. I just don’t think it’d be wise to go down that road again.”

There was a flicker of light in her eyes when I pulled away from the hug. A flicker that spelled potential danger for me. I’d nearly snuffed out the flame of possibility between us, and I’d been too much of a coward to let it stay snuffed. My words had just heated the embers, and not only for Pearl.

21

PEARL

With only a few hours left in Asheville, I was beginning to think me and Dean could actually make this work. Did I still have some very serious confused feelings about what we’d done days ago the night after our dinner? Absolutely. But each day, I was finding it a little easier to stuff that all in the back of my mind.

Our first days at the conference were relatively easy as far as work load went. But keeping my distance from Dean was much easier after that, because the Pollards had our days stacked with meetings, guest speakers, and team building exercises. Thankfully, Dean wasn’t required to attend any of those because of his “employee but not an employee” status. I got a question or two about why my boyfriend wasn’t there to hang out with me and found it pretty easy to blow them off with the excuses Dean and I worked out.

We told everybody he was working hard to secure a contract with the CEO of a pillow company, which explained him being MIA for most of the week.

I wound up spending most of my free time with Marley. We swam together in the heated pools outside the hotel, treated ourselves to a little spa time, and even caught a movie in Marley’s room while enjoying room service a few times. It was nice, because I usually found myself making excuses to avoid social stuff, even with a close friend like Marley. Being here for work made everything easier for me.

Or maybe it was some remnant of the effect Dean had on me, which was unsettling for a number of reasons.

But in the pit of my stomach, I knew Asheville was just the warm-up. Fooling my sister, who was deliriously happy with her upcoming wedding and currently blind to just about everything but Jonas, had been easy. Relatively speaking, at least. Fooling my brother,, my parents, my Grandma Bobo, and everybody else who would be at the wedding was going to be an entirely different task. My overprotective cousins from Alabama were also going to be there, and I knew that was going to be a serious challenge.

I got the last of my things packed up and loaded into bags. Jonas was insisting that everyone who worked directly under him at Pollard from the tenth floor come along to the wedding. That meant most of the people at the hotel were heading back to Manhattan, but my co-workers were loading up into the same style charter bus we’d taken from the airport to the hotel a week ago. I thought I was going to be on that bus, but the plan had changed.

Dean had driven a rental car and intended to roadtrip by himself out to the venue. As soon as Jonas heard this at one of our work dinners a few days ago, he asked why we weren’t driving together. Naturally, we had to jump to explain that we actually were planning to road trip out to Colorado together.

That meant I was now watching Dean load my suitcases into the trunk of his rental SUV. He saw me watching, flashed a tame smile, and closed the trunk. “Ready?” He asked. “Did you use the bathroom already?”

“Yes, Dad,” I said, getting around to my side of the car.

Dean got in, grinning and turning the engine on. “Are you ready for twenty-one hours on the road with yours truly?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not sure. Ask me in about ten hours.” He was in a good mood, it seemed. The version of him I’d seen the last few days had been quiet and withdrawn, which I didn’t think seemed anywhere near natural for Dean Slater. Right now, he looked more like how he’d been when we first met or for the first two days at the hotel. He was smiling easily and relaxed. Jovial, almost.

I couldn’t help feeling a touch of relief. Once I knew we were road tripping together, I had started to dread the long ride of awkward silences. I could say what I wanted about Dean, but at his best, he was extremely entertaining. I was glad to know I could count on that version of him for the ride, even if part of me was worried it might start up the fire I was barely managing to keep out.

“Ten hours,” he said thoughtfully. “I think that’ll put us roughly in Missouri. My favorite state.”

I gave him a look. “Really? Missouri?”

He grinned. “I’m kidding. If all goes well, I plan to never leave the car at any point through that hellhole.”

I snorted. “It’s not that bad in Missouri.”

“If you say the name fast enough, you’re just saying ‘misery’. You think that’s a coincidence?”

“Yes?” I tried.

“It isn’t, and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

We pulled out the long drive of the hotel and took to the winding mountain roads. They were littered with fallen leaves. Some of the trees were still clinging to Fall colors, but the bright yellows and reds of early Fall were almost completely gone. Mostly, the leaves were a deep maroon, if they hadn’t fallen away completely already.

“It’s so pretty,” I said absently.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “I love Manhattan, but it’s hard to beat this.”

I nodded my agreement. I loved the bustle and speed of the city, but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been seriously considering moving out to the suburbs for some time now. I’d even secretly started applying to a few graphic design jobs that would give me the final push to move. I hadn’t told anyone, but for some reason, I found my mouth running.

“I’ve thought about moving,” I said suddenly.

I sensed him turning to look at me, which I didn’t exactly appreciate given the narrow, winding mountain roads. To my right, there was about two hundred feet of nearly open air until you hit the wooded valley below. “Eyes on the road, Dean.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I just took you for the city type, through and through.”

“I took myself for that type, too. But, people are allowed to change. And they’re also allowed to think about changing, even if they might never do it.”

“I like that,” he said after a little bit of a pause.

I found myself smiling at his words. “Well, it’s true.”

“That’s why I like it. Too many people get stuck in ruts. They won’t admit it’s a rut because they act like change is failure. The CEO who has more money than he ever needs, but all he does on the weekend and in his spare time is work on his boat and dream about taking it out for a month on the open seas. If you ask that guy why he doesn’t just quit and do it, he’ll tell you it’s because he’s good at what he does. Or the company needs him. Or it’s all he knows. But what happens when he has a heart attack the year before he retires?” Dean was quiet for a little, then he shrugged. “It sounds like you don’t want to be that guy.”

“I’d rather not have a penis. Or die of a heart attack. Correct.”

He snorted. “You know what I mean.”

I smiled to myself again. “Yeah, I do. And who knows. Maybe I’ll chicken out. But a couple years ago–this is going to sound stupid– I saw a show. Like, just your typical 90’s sitcom in a small town. And I thought about how much I might like that. Everybody knows your name. There’s some little old man you always pass and ask something like, ‘still planning to audition for the town play, Mr. Winkles?’ And, of course he’s the lovable town grouch, so he just shakes his fist and mumbles something back at you.”

Dean was smiling over at me, and the look on his face cut me off.

“What?” I asked.

“I don’t think that’s stupid. It’s amazing. And hell, yeah. Chase your dream. Why not?”

I retreated to my thoughts at his question. It was the same question I’d asked myself a million times. Why the hell not? Because it would mean moving away from my family? Even though I mostly interacted with them via Facetime now, the thought was unsettling. Was it because I worried my life wouldn’t feel “real” somehow if I moved out of my comfort zone? Because I was worried about leaving behind Marley, who was pretty much the only work friend I’d made in all of my time at Pollard?

Maybe I was worried about that new fear I’d felt creeping in this past week. It was the fear that leaving Pollard Marketing behind would also mean leaving behind Dean. He’d continue his fast-paced life in Manhattan and I’d be only a memory within days. Would I spend my small-town hours daydreaming about the big city man I’d let get away?

I hoped not, but the fears were all there.

“It’s probably just a dream, in the end,” I said. “I like my job at Pollard. I’m good at it, and I have Marley there. If I keep on the track I’m on now, I’ll probably be a senior in my department and get the pay bump that comes with that. I could maybe upgrade my apartment and I’d have more creative power at work. It’s all stuff I should want.”

“Should,” Dean echoed. “Not the word of somebody who really believes what they’re saying.”

I sighed. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m prone to bouts of extreme anxiety. Like I said, I’ve been better lately, but it still comes up. It’s a constant battle. And sometimes it comes from something as small as an impending interaction with the lady I’m going to order my coffee from. I think actually being serious about moving out of the city might put me into full-blown meltdown mode. So, yeah. I’m guessing it’s going to stay a dream.”

“Well, that would be a shame.”

“Because you’ll still have to deal with me if I don’t leave Manhattan?” I asked. I’d meant it as a little tongue-and-cheek comment. Something playful to get us off the increasingly heavy topic I wished I hadn’t brought up.

Dean’s response was all serious, though. “Because you deserve your dreams. You deserve to feel like you have a right to put everything on the line to go after them. Everybody does,” he added, maybe once he sensed how much weight his first sentence had carried. “I hope you do it, Pearl. I really do.”

Emotion prickled at my eyes, but I managed to shove it down. I wasn’t going to cry, especially over something as silly as this. But his words felt so genuine that I couldn’t help being touched by them. Maybe my family would’ve been just as supportive if I’d opened up about what was going on in my head to them, but I hadn’t. So Dean’s encouragement was the first I’d had, and it made me feel like I moved from thinking it was probably never going to happen, to wondering if maybe I would find the courage to leave Manhattan at some point.

“Well, thank you,” I said.

He gave my leg a squeeze with his big hand, and my mind immediately went back to that night we’d spent tangled up in the sheets of our hotel bed. That night that seemed to change everything until we’d both decided it changed nothing.

After a long, but surprisingly pleasant drive that took us from the early morning hours, across a time zone, and into the dark, we pulled up to a hotel. “Want to wait in the car while I get us checked in?” Dean asked.

I yawned, realizing I’d dozed off at some point. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He grinned. “You snored. It was very cute.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You’re right. It was more like an impersonation of a lumberjack sawing logs. All while unconscious. Very impressive.”

I swatted at him and he caught my hand, almost by accident. We both froze while my hand was in his, eyes locked. He let go of my hand and broke eye contact. “I’ll go get us checked in.”

“Okay,” I said.

I got out of the car and stretched my legs. I could see Dean through the glass doors leading to the hotel lobby. It was just your average hotel off some random highway exit. It looked nice enough that we wouldn’t need to worry about cockroaches colonizing our ear holes while we slept or blood on the comforter, but not so nice that someone named “Jarvis” would be serving us breakfast on a platter.

Fine by me.

I thought about giving Marley a call, but figured she would likely be dozing on the charter bus, assuming they hadn’t already stopped at a hotel somewhere. I considered Steph, but wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to her right now. This morning, I would’ve made the call. But tonight? Tonight I didn’t feel like I completely understood my own feelings.

In the course of a week, I’d gone from lusting after Dean to disliking him and then to thinking I might be falling for him. After that, I’d decided I was just having a weak moment–that my feelings were only confusion because of how intense the sex was. And now? Now I was thinking of how much I enjoyed his company during our car ride and wondering what that meant, if anything.

Confusing didn’t even properly describe it all.

I knew Steph would sniff out my situation and she’d probably tell me how I actually felt. For some reason, I was too scared to give her the opportunity. Right now, I was going to do my best to pretend I had everything under control. Everything was fine. Dean was just a guy I needed something from.

After all, that’s how guys looked at me, wasn’t it? The relationship was a transaction. Something from me for something from them.

That’s all this was, and maybe if I kept telling myself that, I’d start to believe it.

22

DEAN

Pearl had her own queen bed, which was separated from mine by a respectable foot or two of space. She’d taken a long, steamy shower and was sitting up against her pillows with her paperback in hand. Her hair was done up in a tower of towels and she had on her little reading glasses, along with the scratchy robe that was hanging in our hotel closet.

I knew I should just roll over and go to sleep, but my mind was buzzing.

It was late as hell. I’d been driving all day. I should’ve been able to fall asleep in a blink, but my thoughts were racing with bits of the conversation we’d had in the car and moments from the drive. I remembered seeing her with her head rolled to the side as she dozed. Dappled sunlight through the trees had played across her skin so she looked like something straight out of a fairy tale. There I was driving and my own personal fantasy woman was dozing right beside me. It felt too perfect. Too good for me, by far, but that didn’t stop me from sinking into the fantasy for a while and letting myself imagine what it would be like–what it would be like to know Pearl was really mine and trust myself to treat her the way she deserved.

I thought back to her smile when we swapped stories about our worst exes. I remember laughing my ass off when she somehow managed to spill her fries while getting into the car. She’d gotten out, collected them all back into the container, and then spilled them again.

There was a kind of fleeting, magical flavor to everything that had happened. It all felt temporary and dangerous. Temporary because I had no doubts the plan was to dissolve our little fake relationship as soon as the wedding was through next week. Dangerous, because no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise, I couldn’t seem to stop wondering what it would be like if our fake relationship wasn’t fake.

But there were two problems with making things real. On the one hand, I didn’t feel ready to be let down again. It was why I swore off relationships six months ago. I guess one man could only take so much failure. Annabelle cheating felt like the final straw–the moment I knew one more relationship in flames might just do me in. I’d played it off like it didn’t hurt, but that shit had stung. Not because Annabelle was anything special, but because her cheating felt like the final piece of a puzzle coming together. That puzzle spelled out how doomed I was. It told me true love may be real for some people, but I could either spend my life searching for it and failing, or I could give up and save myself the heartache.

“You look very deep in thought,” Pearl said. She’d set her paperback down along with her reading glasses. She was watching me from her bed.

“Nah,” I said. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Liar.”

I grinned. “Okay. I was thinking, yeah.”

“About?”

“Is this our sleepover pillow talk?” I teased. Honestly, I was hoping to joke my way out of having to actually talk about what was on my mind. It still felt raw, even six months after the fact.

“It is. Now tell me, what has you so bothered? Did you know you get this crease between your eyebrows when you’re bothered?” She pointed. “Right there.”

I raised a finger and felt my skin, smirking. “Observant, aren’t we?”

“Yes. Now spill the beans.”

“I was just thinking about how people let us down, I guess.”

“People? Like Annabelle?”

Perceptive little minx. “Yeah. Like her.”

“When I first met you, I remember thinking you seemed to be taking it all surprisingly well, considering the circumstances.”

“We all have our own coping mechanisms, I guess. Mine is other people, maybe. If shit is going wrong inside, I just find someone else and try to do what I do. Make them laugh. Get a smile. Charm them. It’s all a distraction.”

Pearl didn’t answer right away. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But, I appreciate you telling me that. It helps me understand you better. I’ve kind of been seeing myself as weak for still letting what Eric did haunt me so much.”

“Hell no,” I said, sitting up straighter. “You’re not weak, Pearl. Not at all.”

She gave a coy smile. “Hey, I’m the one trying to cheer you up. Don’t turn this around on me.”

I sighed. “I was just thinking how one person can only take so much, you know? How many times can people let you down before you can’t see anything else? How are you supposed to put your hand on the stove top, get burned, and then convince yourself the next time it won’t burn you?”

Pearl was quiet for a few moments. “I guess you just have to realize people aren’t stovetops.”

I grinned. “Brilliant insight, Pearl.”

“I mean… Maybe the problem has been the type of people we’re choosing to trust, not people in general. It’s different. A little, at least. We can believe people will do better next time because we can do better. You and I can both do a better job of picking the right person for ourselves, not the easy person. I don’t know about you, but I’ve always just taken the people I get handed. My family knows someone who knows someone, we meet, and we date. I’ve been too chickenshit to go after the guys I actually like.”

I thought about how I decided who to date in the past and felt a little pang of shame. “I guess I always just picked the prettiest woman in the room.”

Pearl smirked. “At least you can admit that’s what you were doing.”

“I guess that means if I want to change my ways, I’ll have to cross you off my list of potential future mates.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when I saw Anabelle’s ass on that black and white paper, I think I went into panic mode. And without realizing what I was doing, I looked around and found the prettiest woman in the room. I went to her for a distraction. And then she barfed on me.”

Pearl was blushing hard. “Or maybe you went to the person who looked like they needed to be cheered up. I think you care more about people and making them happy than you admit.”

“That’s a generous interpretation.”

“But I guess I’d have to cross you off my list, too. Because you just kind of fell into my lap like all the other guys before, too. So that settles it, huh? If the two of us ever want to get back on the horse, it can’t be with each other.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “That does settle it. But, uh, Pearl?”

“Yeah?”

I was about to apologize again for how I’d acted after we hooked up. I wanted to tell her how it made me feel about her–how it had felt like way more than just sex. Thankfully, I let those words die before they reached my lips. “Good night.”

“Oh. Good night.” She reached up and turned off her reading light. I heard the rustle and clatter of her setting her paperback and glasses on the nightstand in the dark.

There were a few minutes of quiet before Pearl’s quiet voice sounded. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad it’s you. I mean, of all the guys I could’ve got into this crazy situation with. You’re a good guy, even if I don’t think you see yourself that way. And I was thinking maybe after this is all over, we could still be friends, because I’d like that.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m glad it’s you, too. And sure, maybe. Pen pals, at least, because you’re going to move out of the city and chase that dream, right?”

She laughed softly. “Right.”

23

PEARL

I’d never been to Colorado in my life, and the moment when we first drove within view of the Rockies was breathtaking. We drove through what felt like hours of flat farmland dotted with windmills all the way through Kansas and eastern Colorado throughout the morning. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, we crested a small hill and had a view of mountains running North to South as far as I could see.

Lizzie spent a summer here as a kid, which was why she wanted her wedding in a place called Fairhope. I’d never been, but heard her stories and still hadn’t pictured it being this beautiful.

We wove our way closer and closer to the mountains until I saw a strange and out of place skyscraper a few minutes outside Fairhope. It was surrounded by a sprawl of suburban neighborhoods and some commercial buildings that looked like they’d recently popped up around the building.

Past the skyscraper, we entered a stretch of rolling, wooded hills that eventually opened up to a view of a quaint town that looked straight out of one of the TV shows I’d loved as a teen. There was a river running through the main sprawl, a town center that was packed with cute shops and stores, and a gradual spread of residential houses radiating out from the town center.

Once I got over how pretty it all was, I felt my heart start pounding. This felt like game time. The week of the wedding was the part I’d really dreaded since the moment I knew my ruse with Dean was going to go public. My family was all going to be here, and the level of scrutiny on us was going to ramp up dramatically.

Worst case? My mom was going to disown me and write a New York Times Bestselling autobiography about how her daughter ruined her life. Granted, my mom could barely compose an email, but it was possible. Or maybe my dad would see straight through the lie and try to choke Dean out. My brother, Merrick, might forbid me from ever seeing his family or kids again. I’d ruin Lizzie’s wedding, and my family would remove me from the will. All twenty dollars worth of goods I was set to inherit? Gone.

Dean reached over and took my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Hey,” he said softly. “You’ve got this. I have your back, okay? Just stick by me and I’ll make sure we’re good.”

I felt a little of the anxiety drain out of me and once again marveled at how much calmer Dean helped me to feel. It was almost supernatural. Even my time in therapy had only given me methods that masked the anxiety. It never fully felt like it was gone–more like I could learn to ignore the panic bells going off in my mind. Something as simple as Dean’s touch and reassurance actually felt like a salve for it. I could feel the anxiety retreating because I really did trust him. I believed he’d make it okay, and I sure as hell was going to miss that when this was all over.

“Thanks,” I said softly.

He smiled and drove us up to a little place where we were going to be staying along with Lizzie, Jonas, and my family.

We headed down well-maintained roads until we were on Fairhope’s Main Street. Happy people were out and about with smiles on their faces. I saw a young mother with two kids heading into an old-style theater. There was a small squad of old men in old-fashioned clothes sitting in chairs outside a restaurant just shooting the shit, from the looks of it. Two women were cracking up about something while they stood with grocery bags in hand.

Quaint was definitely the word for it. Looking around made me feel transported back to a more wholesome time. It definitely wasn’t Manhattan, where everybody was clearly in their own world with their own things to do. The people here saw each other. It was a community. A pulse of warmth from deep in my chest washed over me as I looked out at the town through the window. It felt like home, even though I’d never been here before.

We parked outside the place Jonas had booked for my whole family. It was the Ashford Inn, a building that looked historic, but amazingly well-kept with a fresh coat of bright red paint on the roof. Bright, colorful roofs seemed to be a requirement in Fairhope, and it gave the whole town a cheery, upbeat feeling. We’d only been here five minutes and I already felt charmed by it all.

We got out of the car together, stretching after driving most of the morning. The air was cold and dry with a constant breeze. I grabbed my jacket from the back and zipped it up, doing a little “wow, this is cold” jump. Dean saw me and smiled as he buttoned up his own coat.

“This place is pretty charming, huh?” he asked, looking around us.

I took another look around, enjoying the scent of fresh air all around us. I saw a bakery, a few coffee shops, a pharmacy, a “McDermit’s General Store”, and even a flower shop. There wasn’t a big box store in sight, and that just added to the charm, which was practically oozing from every direction.

“Very,” I agreed. “But I have to admit, I wish we were staying out by that big skyscraper with the rest of the employees. This place feels like ground zero. All of my family is going to be here and so is Jonas.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, sizing up the inn as he pulled the trunk closed. “At least Maxwell and Alec are staying with the rest of them by Stone Tower. More and more, I think Alec is hoping to convince his brother to stop working with me. I’m worried he sees our relationship as some kind of weak point to abuse for his goals.”

I frowned. That was news to me, but as I looked back on what I’d seen of Alec’s body language around Dean, I could see it. “Alec kind of freaks me out. He looks like he would’ve been a perfect 90’s movie bad guy.”

Dean laughed and hoisted his bag over his shoulder. He took mine by the handle and started wheeling it toward the front door of the Ashford Inn.

Inside, we found a cozy little lobby that looked old and as perfectly maintained as the exterior. There was a section off to our left that looked more new. From what I could tell, it was a restaurant that might’ve been added recently. There was a clatter of plates and happy voices coming from the dining room and some absolutely incredible smells drifting our way, too.

A boy who might have only been twelve or thirteen was standing behind the counter with his nose in a book. He looked up when he saw me and smiled. “Welcome to the Ashford Inn, where all your dreams come true. For a small donation of–”

“Billy!” A little girl whacked him on the head as she came out from a room behind the counter. “Sorry about him,” she said, smiling sweetly. She looked a few years younger, but I judged her to be the responsible one of the two. “If you asked Billy what he wants to be when he grows up, he’d tell you it’s a turd.”

Billy gave her a little shove. “And you wouldn’t have to wait till you grow up, Molly. Because you’re already a turd!”

Responsible or not, the girl took his bait and began whacking him with her palm. Billy laughed, dodging and returning her swats with little shoves. Before it turned into a full out brawl, an elderly man with a rounded belly and a beard emerged from the back room. “Alright, alright. We get it. You’re both right. Now go in the back and fight to the death. Turds,” he added with a grin.

The two of them glowered on their way into the back room. The old man dusted his hands and favored us with blue eyes and a kind smile. “I apologize for the runts. Around here, people usually just call me Old Man Ashford or Old Mr. Ashford. Geezer works, too.”

“Not a problem,” Dean said. “Cute kids. They yours?”

“Hah!” Old Mr. Ashford grinned. “Great grandkids, actually. My son doesn’t live in town, but his kids do. So, am I right to assume you two are part of the wedding party? You folks have been rolling in here all day long.”

“That’s right,” I said. “Pearl Moreno and Dean Slater.”

“A doting couple, if you were wondering.” Dean pulled me into his side and kissed my temple.

The “no touching” rule was apparently impossible for him. It was like telling a dog not to nibble on a bone.

Old Mr. Ashford smiled, then pulled a set of keys off a rack of hooks lining the wall. He placed them in my palm, giving me a wink. “You look like the one I can trust with the keys. Not sure about that big one, yet.”

“Definitely don’t trust him,” I agreed. “He’s trouble.”

“Your room is on the second floor, all the way at the back. You’ll have a nice view of the river, but that bed creaks. Sorry. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed, but I usually just don’t book that room. Your party filled us up and now I’m wishing I’d gotten around to it.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “We’ll be careful with the bed.”

I could practically feel Dean’s dirty thoughts twisting my words around in his head. I shot him a glare, which he returned with an innocent shrug.

“My granddaughter-in-law, Harper, runs that restaurant over there. The groom paid ahead, so if you want to eat there, your meals are already covered. Just try to give us notice if you’re planning to stop in, because they fill up almost every day for lunch and dinner. Hmm, what else…” Old Mr. Ashford pulled on his white beard like a thoughtful wizard, eyes searching the room. “Well, if you like animals, my grandson, Zack, runs a rescue operation. He loves when people come by to give those animals attention. Or if you’re looking for a romantic night, we’ve got the old theater. It only seats about twelve, and sometimes the projector goes on the fritz, but the place is a real charmer. Like something right out of my days. We’ve also got a drive-in theater we set up most weekends. Oh, and we’re having a town bonfire tonight. It’s a bit of a weekend tradition for us Fairhopers, but you’re all invited. We’d love the company.”

I smiled. “Thank you. That all sounds really lovely.”

The kids in the back room started shouting and we heard something heavy fall to the ground. Old Mr. Ashford gave the door a tired look. “Looks like I’ve got to be the big bad grandpa again. Sorry folks, duty calls. But please, get comfortable. Treat this place like your home, now, understand?”

I nodded.

Dean put his arm around my shoulder and nodded as well. “Sounds good. Thanks for the info,” Dean said.

Once the old man had gone behind the door, I plucked Dean’s arm off me and gave him a look.

“What?” he asked. “If we’re always stiff around each other, people are going to get suspicious. The stakes are higher now, right? Your family is here. I’m guessing they’re going to pick up on your body language a lot quicker than strangers or co-workers. So, try to act like you like it when I touch you. And maybe even initiate some things so it doesn’t look too one-sided.”

“Yeah, sorry. You’re right,” I said. The way he spoke about it made it sound like he wasn’t at all worried about feelings getting confused if we got too touchy-feely with each other. I didn’t want to admit I was still worried about it, so I decided to play it cool.

I stuck my hand out for him to take. He grinned and laced his fingers with mine. “See? That’s better,” he said.

“Mhm,” I said, trying very hard not to focus my attention on how my hand felt in his as we headed for the stairs.

It was only one more week. One more week of surviving the constant storm of conflicting feelings I felt around him. One more week of trying to trick all the people I cared about because I’d been too much of a coward to simply tell them to back off when they played matchmaker. But I wasn’t sure that was the whole story. I’d been thinking more about what made me agree to something so crazy, and I wondered if there was more. Maybe it was that I didn’t want the people who cared about me to see how much I was hurting. If I’d admitted I was swearing off men for the foreseeable future, they’d realize what Eric’s cheating had done. They’d worry about me.

I didn’t want that. I did enough worrying on my own without bringing other people into the mix.

Dean stopped at the base of the stairs. “What’s bothering you?” he asked.

“Huh? Nothing.”

Ignoring my words, he turned and took both my hands in his, meeting my eyes. “Take a few deep breaths with me. You’ll feel better. In,” he said, sucking in an exaggerated breath through his nose. “Out.” He said, blowing it out through his mouth. His breath was minty and cold.

I worked my lips to the side, considered pulling away, and then finally gave in. I joined him on his next round of breaths. After three rounds, I admittedly felt much better.

Dean apparently could tell, because he gave my hand a little squeeze and turned, heading up the stairs.

“Dean?” I said.

“Yeah?” he stopped, half turning with my hand still in his.

“It’s really nice. The way you help me when you can tell I’m freaking out a little. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “And if you do, I’ll help you calm down again,” he added with a smirk.

I grinned. “I know. And I appreciate it.”

“Good. Now tell me something you don’t like about me.”

“What? Why?”

“Because when you get all sweet like that it makes me start thinking thoughts I don’t want to be thinking.”

“What kind of thoughts?”

We were standing in the middle of an old fashioned, wood-paneled stairway. It was a strange place to have a conversation, but I barely noticed because I was hanging on his every word.

He pursed his lips. “You sure you want me to answer that?”

“I do.”

“Thoughts like how I enjoyed road tripping with you. Or how it feels good to take care of you when you need it, and how it also feels good when you’re like a firecracker and want to bust my balls. Just how being around you feels good, I guess. And when you’re being all sweet like that, it’s harder to turn those thoughts off. So tell me something you don’t like about me. Help me hit the off switch.”

I almost asked him why he wanted to turn those thoughts off. Almost. But that was one of those many doors where danger was waiting on the other side. Danger. Uncertainty. Risk. It was all on the other side of that door if I asked the question burning on my tongue, so I did what I seemed to always do: I took the coward’s path.

“Okay,” I said. “Umm. I don’t like how easy you make it for people to like you.”

He laughed. “What kind of insult is that?”

“I don’t know!” I couldn’t help smiling a little. “Tell me something you don’t like about me, then. Maybe give me some ideas and I’ll try again.”

He leaned against the railing at the edge of the stairs, arms crossed as he studied the ceiling in thought. “Okay. Got one. I don’t like when you won’t trust yourself. Sometimes I can tell you’re going into panic mode because you think you can’t handle something. But every time you trust yourself, you absolutely kill it. Like that balloon popping game at the hotel in Asheville. You were about to lose your shit, and then you went up there and pulled that? I mean, you’re the last person who should be doubting herself.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, come on. That’s like when an interviewer asks what your biggest weakness is and you say, ‘well, I’m a workaholic and I can never seem to put a project down until it’s finished.’ Or ‘I’m a perfectionist and can’t handle when I haven’t put my absolute best into my work!’”

Dean shrugged. “Your turn.”

“Okay. Maybe I don’t like how you make it so easy for me to like you.”

My words hung between us, seeming to gain weight the longer the silence dragged on.

The sound of footsteps saved either of us from having to speak. I immediately pictured my mom or dad coming down the stairs, running into us, and making Dean and me have to jump straight into lovey-dovey mode.

The two of us started heading up the stairs toward the sound of the steps, silently agreeing to act natural, it seemed.

We ended up passing Jonas Pollard, who was wearing a robe and a big smile. I had the unpleasant thought that he looked like he just got finished enjoying his bride. A little bit of my breakfast rose up in the back of my throat. I loved my sister, but the idea of her having sex was always going to be one of those flavors of thought I never wanted to sample.

He gave us a little wink and wave and continued on his way, whistling happily.

Ew, I thought. They definitely just did the deed.

As we walked down the hall to our room, I thought it was like stepping on a battlefield. I could practically imagine the smoke drifting across our ankles and the sound of distant booming gunfire. All these doors we were passing contained parts of my immediate and extended family. One room would be my mom and dad. My older brother, Merrick, along with his wife and kids would be in another. Steph would probably be in her own room, practically giddy with the excitement of watching me squirm all week.

Then, there was the extended family. My overprotective cousins from the hills of Alabama and my raunchy grandma, Bobo. It wasn’t a huge family, thanks to some divorces and family drama a decade or so back, but it was big enough to stress me out.

Without thinking, I gave Dean’s hand a little squeeze. I hadn’t even realized I’d taken it again. He let go of my hand and put his arm around my shoulder, almost protectively.

“Hey, we got this, okay?”

I nodded. Dean gave my chin a little lift with the crook of his index finger, then tapped my nose. “We got this,” he repeated, eyes locked on mine.

I swallowed hard, then nodded. “We got this,” I repeated.

“There we go.” His smile was reassuring and comforting. He took the keys from me and fumbled with the lock. “Think this shower will have another one of those see through doors? I enjoyed watching you try not to get naked in front of the one at the last hotel.”

I blushed just thinking of it. I’d had to use that thing more than a few times while Dean was in the room. I’d done my best to shove myself into a corner where he wouldn’t be able to see anything, but the size of the room and the angle of the door made it nearly impossible.

“I thought maybe you would be a gentleman and not try to peep.”

He laughed. “First of all, I never claimed to be a gentleman. Second, I saw you watching every time I changed. It was only fair that I try to get a glimpse, too.”

I gave him a look, then pushed the door open and walked in front of him. Suddenly, I felt like taking a long nap. Maybe a full week of sleep would do. I could simply hibernate through the wedding and hope nobody noticed I was missing.

24

DEAN

I was jogging the streets of Fairhope, Colorado as evening drew closer. To my left, the sun was creeping toward the mountains, staining the sky scarlet. The place was pretty as hell, and I could see why Pearl had her dream of leaving the city behind to come somewhere like this.

It felt good to get moving after nearly two full days of driving. My legs had felt stiff and reluctant when I first set out, but now that I’d put a few hills behind me, I felt great.

Pearl was back in the room unpacking her things and freshening up. We both agreed it would be a good idea to go to the bonfire tonight, because it was exactly the sort of thing a couple would want to do. Besides, she’d been informed via text from her sister, Steph, that the whole family would be there.

I couldn’t help feeling a little excited at the prospect of meeting them all. I knew Pearl was probably shitting bricks at the thought, but I was honestly curious to get to know them.

I finished my jog and headed back to the room to shower and clean up. Pearl was on her bed with her little reading glasses and paperback when I came out of the shower. I grinned at her. “What is that book, anyway?” I asked.

She lifted the cover for me to see. It featured some macho looking guy glaring out at me. “It’s a romance novel. This one is about a Duke and Duchess. I love that kind of stuff.”

“The woman who swears off men, but loves reading romance books,” I mused. “Odd combination, don’t you think?”

She gave me a sour look. “Just because I don’t want to put myself out there again, it doesn’t mean it’s not fun to read about other people doing it. I watched a rock climbing documentary once about a guy who climbs without ropes. It was exciting, but I would never do it.”

“Fair points. I concede.”

She smirked. “I like that you can admit you’re wrong. Eric never did.”

She hardly ever talked about him, so I felt my interest perk up. “Yeah? Well, I’m definitely wrong at times.” For some reason, my dumb brain decided to remind me how I had handled the last few days with Pearl. I’d had several chances to take this fragile thing between us to the next phase and I’d continually passed them up. Why? Because I thought I knew what was best. Maybe I’d been wrong, but I was continuing to double down on that decision, even if it felt wrong in my chest.

“Admitting that makes you more of a man,” she said, smiling as she got up and out from under the blankets. She had on a casual outfit of a jean jacket over a dress with leggings beneath. She stepped into a pair of fuzzy boots and spread her arms when she noticed me looking at her. “Do I look okay?” she asked.

“Always,” I said.

A little red crept into her cheeks. She gave a shy smile and did a tiny little curtsey. “Why, thank you.”

I disappeared to shower and clean up, got dressed, and found Pearl back with her novel and her reading glasses again.

I gestured toward the door. “Shall we?” I asked. “We’ve got a bonfire to catch. And I’ve got to meet your family.”

Pearl took a deep breath. “Don’t remind me.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll do most of the talking, okay?”

“Okay,” she said. “And, um, Dean? If they ask you any kind of weird questions about yourself or our relationship, maybe let me answer? I’ve kind of spun a few stories here and there, so it’d be safer if you let me answer, since you won’t know what you’re walking into.”

“Just like the work dinners with the Pollards in Asheville. No problem.”

* * *

By the time we left the little Ashford Inn and walked down mainstreet, the sun had already set behind the mountains. There wasn’t much in the way of light pollution all the way out in Fairhope, so the stars were bright and silver. They reminded me how much I was missing when I looked up at night in Manhattan. Actually, I wasn’t sure I ever really looked up in the city. Everything moved too fast for me to stop and look around, and even if I did look up, what would I see? A foggy haze of polluted air? Go long enough without a reason to look up at the stars and you’ll forget they’re even shining. It made me wonder what else I was missing because of my life in Manhattan.

I let myself slow down and take it in while we walked. I had a beautiful girl strolling beside me and a night of socializing ahead of me. There was fresh air, miles of sky and rolling hills all around, and the faint smell of woodsmoke drifting to us. Once we’d walked a few minutes, I could hear the growing din of laughter and conversation coming from the town center where the bonfire was roaring.

We came upon a scene of maybe a hundred people all moving around a large, open town center surrounded by shops and businesses. A few still had their lights on, including a bakery with a long table set up in front. As far as I could tell, the baked goods set out were free, along with the drinks people were helping themselves to. Kids were playing by a little foot bridge that went across the stream running through the center of town. The adults were mostly sitting or standing near the fire, their faces lit by intermittent flashes of orange light. The sound of running river water and the occasional pop from the logs in the fire punctuated it all.

“This is amazing,” Pearl said. I don’t know if she realized it, but she’d taken my hand in hers again. Or maybe she was just taking my advice from earlier and trying to look more natural.

We drifted past people and toward the table of baked goods. I was helping myself to a buttery roll of bread when a girl who looked eerily similar to Pearl approached–if Pearl had a hobby of trying to communicate with the dead and liked heavy metal, that was. The girl came rushing up and gave Pearl a punch on the arm, then a quick but fierce hug.

She had dyed black hair with straight black bangs just above her eyebrows. Her facial features were similar to Pearl’s, but with minor differences I noticed as I got a better look at her. Slightly thinner lips and a more pointed chin with less rounded cheeks. But their eyes were almost identical and they were nearly the exact same height.

“Dean, this is Steph,” Pearl said. She lowered her voice and gave me a significant look. “She knows.”

“What?” I asked.

“Yep,” Steph said. “Not all of us are dumb enough to fall for such a flimsy story. I saw right through it the first time she tried to pass you off on us.”

“You didn’t tell me anyone knew,” I said, feeling slightly irked that Pearl had kept me in the dark on that one.

Pearl looked a little embarrassed. “Well, now we’re all on the same page. Right?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said. It was a small thing, but for some reason I kept turning the idea over in my head. I mean, what was the difference in her telling Steph if I’d told Laney? I guessed it felt different because Pearl’s family was here. Laney, my brothers, and my dad were all hundreds of miles away and not connected to this at all. Meanwhile, Steph was right here.

I kept trying to put the thought from my mind because it seemed like it should hardly matter. Still, there was the faintest crack in my trust. It felt like she’d hidden something from me that I should’ve known before we arrived. I couldn’t help wondering if it was the sort of crack that would widen with time. I guessed it was part of the reason I was better off keeping my distance from relationships. All the dishonesty from past girlfriends had me jumping at shadows in the trust department. Pearl hadn’t done anything wrong, but my brain was so gun-shy it was trying to go into full alert over nothing.

“Are you going to show him to mom and dad? They’re over there.” Steph pointed to a group of people in fold-out chairs near the fire. I spotted the two who must’ve been the mom and dad. Early fifties, I guessed. The dad was handsome and rounded in the belly while the mom was the type of woman who appeared to age gracefully. She looked fit and was sitting with almost perfect posture. I remembered Pearl telling me she’d been a dancer on cruise ships when she was younger, and I thought I could still see the signs of it. There was a younger man and a woman I guessed was his wife sitting with them as well. The man was bearded and muscular and the wife was small and petite with blonde hair.

“In a minute,” Pearl said. I could hear the anxiety in her voice. I put my arm around her waist and pulled her closer, hoping I could radiate a little confidence into her.

Steph watched the gesture with a raised eyebrow. “Wow. So you two really lean into this whole thing a hundred percent, huh? Do you even pretend when the lights are off in your hotel rooms and the doors are closed?”

“Steph,” Pearl warned.

Steph was about to say something more when a little woman even shorter than Steph and Pearl came shuffling up to us. She must’ve been in her eighties, or maybe nineties. She had a perky poof of gray hair surrounding her head, glasses that magnified her watery blue eyes that still shone with bright intelligence, and she was leaning heavily on a cane.

“Grandma Bobo,” Pearl said with a little hesitance. She bent to hug the woman, who stared up at me over her shoulder.

“So this is him?” she asked. She shuffled closer and actually jabbed at my foot with her cane. She looked up at me and ran her tongue over quivering lips. “Big fella, aren’t you? Bet your seed is strong. Big grandkids. Mhm.”

“Uhh,” Pearl said. “Grandma Bobo, that’s not super appropriate.”

“Appropriate?” the little woman snapped. “I’ll tell you about what is appropriate. Try the Cuban Missile Crisis ruining my school dance. You know I was supposed to go with Bobby Wagner? Everybody said Bobby was hung like a horse, too. And instead his family made them stay in their backyard bomb shelter all evening!”

“Grandma Bobo,” Steph said. “Tell us more about how well hung Bobby was. Pearl would like to learn more about that.”

Bobo’s eyes lit up and she started going into great and disturbing detail about where her information came from and the stories she’d heard. By the time she was finished, she’d forgotten what she was talking about and veered into a story about her first time going to a strip club and how more men should wear thong style underpants, because God didn’t create bottoms like that to be hidden behind baggy drawers.

“Well,” Pearl said after what felt like forever. “We really should go say ‘hi’ to everyone. Mom and Dad are probably wondering when they’ll get to meet Dean.”

Bobo gave my stomach a little punch that felt more like a rogue gust of wind. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy him. I’m betting you could give old Waggy Wangdoodle Wagner a run for his money in the–”

“That’s great, Grandma Bobo!” Pearl said quickly. She grabbed my arm and started leading me toward the bonfire where her parents sat. “It was really nice to see you again!”

“Stephanie, Dear. Who was that loud little woman?” Grandma Bobo asked as we were leaving.

“That was your granddaughter,” Steph said. I didn’t need to look to hear the smile in her voice.

“She’s great,” I said once we were out of earshot.

“Nobody told Grandma Bobo that her libido should maybe ease off as she got up in years.”

“Why should it? I’m planning to stay just as feisty in my advanced years. Old dicks need an occasional tune up, too.”

“Somehow, I’m not surprised you’d say something like that.”

“Good, then you’re getting to know me.”

“Better than I’d like.”

I gave Pearl a playful little nudge and she smiled, then rammed me with her shoulder in retaliation.

The woman with perfect posture spotted us before we reached the group and rushed up to hug Pearl tight. “Ohh, my little Sugar Muffin! My Baby!”

“Mom, please,” Pearl said, voice muffled by her mom’s considerable bosom pressing into her face. It looked like the short genes came from her dad, because her mom was a few inches taller.

“Nonsense! I haven’t seen you in months! Months! Video calls? You think a video call is going to be enough for your momma bear?”

“Mooom,” Pearl groaned, finally managing to peel herself out of the hug.

“And this must be him. Dean! My, you really are something, aren’t you?”

I gave my best smile, then I was being squeezed in one of those motherly hugs. I hugged Pearl’s mom back a little tentatively at first. “Nice to meet you,” I said over her shoulder.

“I’m Darla, Pearl’s mom,” she said, still not pulling away from the hug. “And if you’re with our Pearlie, that means you’re family, too. Understand that? You’re family”

I couldn’t help grinning and hugging her back a little tighter at that. Call me sentimental if you wanted, but I grew up without a mom for most of my life and a dad who never had time for sharing feelings. Sue me if I wanted to enjoy a motherly hug for a minute.

“Thanks,” I said.

She pulled back and gave my chin a little knock with her knuckle, smiling up at me. “Oh, I’m just so glad you two found each other. Pearl has had the worst luck with men. The worst. I’m sure you’re going to be so good for her. You already have been, actually. I mean, she told us about how amazing you are with your hands.”

I choked a little, eyebrows going up. “She did?” I asked.

“Massages,” Pearl said quickly. “I told her how great the massages you give are.”

“Ohh, right. Yeah. Absolutely.”

“You’ll have to help me and Earl later. We’re both sore and could really use a good massage after the drive up here. He refuses to get the seats in his SUV fixed, but they won’t adjust. They just won’t move an inch!” she bopped her forehead with her palm, smiling even wider. “You could help us with that! Pearl told us how handy you are with cars. Like the time you left work to help get her old junker started when it was giving her trouble. You’re just going to be so helpful to have in the family!”

She rushed off to get the attention of her husband, Earl, and left me with a brief moment to bulge my eyes at Pearl.

“What is it with you and telling people I know how to give massages? I couldn’t massage my way out of a wet paper bag. And I don’t know shit about cars.”

“Well, the good news is you don’t get out of paper bags by massaging them. And for the car thing we can just, I don’t know, look up a tutorial on Youtube and pretend you already knew how to fix the problem.”

For once, I felt like the one who needed someone to calm my anxiety. The gravity of what we were doing was settling in on me with the weight of a fucking mountain. Just hearing how excited her mom was to have us together made me think splitting up when this was all over wasn’t going to be so painless. I’d break that woman’s heart. It was obvious how badly she wanted things to work out between Pearl and me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Eric wasn’t the only one to splendidly screw things up with Pearl.

Instinctively, I put my arm around Pearl and pulled her in for a hug.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding a little bemused. “They’re all waiting.”

“Yeah,” I said, letting her go and feeling a little silly. “Right.”

We headed up toward the main group and were introduced one by one to the overwhelming number of people from her family who had come for the wedding. There was her dad, Earl. He skipped straight past introductions and managed to get me into a several-minute conversation about the finer points of grilling the perfect hamburger. Eight minutes per side, no seasoning except salt, and, he explained, the true secret recipe was to not over-work the meat mixture. He also said it was essential to make your own blend of beef, skipping those store bought packs.

I didn’t really know much about grilling hamburgers, so I nodded along and took his word for it.

Then I met Merrick, Pearl’s older brother. He looked like he was a woodsman with a long brown beard and stern features with a thick build. He gave me a crushing handshake and grunted a few words of greeting, followed by a not-so-subtle suggestion to take good care of his sister. His wife was a small blonde woman who was very pregnant and very distracted by their two little boys running circles around her.

After Merrick came some aunts, uncles, and extended family. One branch of the family was very Southern.

The two standouts were Curtis and Lane, a pair of blonde-headed men in their early twenties. They both wore cowboy boots, concerningly tight jeans, and had plaid shirts tucked in just enough to reveal oversized belt buckles. Curtis was more wiry and bird-faced while Lane was thicker with the most freckles I’d ever seen on a human being’s face.

They both pulled me aside, leaving Pearl to give me an apologetic but encouraging smile, like she had known this was going to happen.

“Now listen here,” Curtis said once he’d taken me off a few yards from the group. “Now” sounded more like “nayow” and “here” was “Heyear”.

“I’m listening,” I said.

“Pearl is our baby cousin,” Lane said. The accent was just as thick as his brother’s. “She likes her bread with butter and her tea with sugar, you understand me?”

I raised my eyebrows, then narrowed my eyes. I wasn’t sure if this was some sort of trick question, but I decided to simply nod my head and say, “yes”.

Curtis gave my chest a little poke and glared at me. “And if’in I find out you cheated on our girl like that Eric feller? Whooo, boy.”

Lane spat on the ground noisily, then tucked his thumbs in his pockets. “That chicken fart was about as useful as a gas station tanning bed.”

Curtis responded with a noisy spit of his own.

I moved my eyes between the two of them, then decided to spit on the ground as well.

Both of them exchanged a look, then nodded in some southern flavor of approval.

“I’ll treat Pearl right. Don’t worry about that,” I said.

The brothers gave each other one more look, then seemed to decide the interrogation phase was over. They both broke into a smile that was a few teeth short of complete and clapped me on either shoulder. “Yer alright,” Curtis said.

“Look like a fuckin’ city-humpin Ken doll, though. Sheee!”

“Sheee!” Curtis agreed, laughing in a high pitched, hitching sort of way.

I found myself smiling, even though I was pretty sure a city-humping Ken doll wasn’t high praise.

Once the Alabama brothers decided I was finished, I was allowed to rejoin the group and enjoy some of the food that seemed to keep getting passed around.

The night seemed to fly by. Fairhope residents kept coming by and offering us little bite sized burgers, pastries, plastic cups of coleslaw and macaroni salad. There was also a steady supply of fruity drinks spiked with alcohol, lemonade, and coolers full of sodas and water bottles.

Pearl’s entire family spent a great deal of time asking us about our relationship. Several of them admitted they weren’t entirely sure I was real, but the overwhelming sentiment was they were glad to meet me and beyond happy to see us together.

By the time things were winding down and people had started to head back to turn in for bed, I felt the combined weight of expectations pushing down on me. Her mom was bad enough, but her dad was rooting for us, too. Her scary sister even seemed to want it to work. Then there were the Alabama brothers, who I suspected might kidnap me, tie me up, and drive me out to make me disappear in the mountains somewhere if I ever hurt Pearl.

Most of all, I was struck by how much I could feel them all hoping Pearl wouldn’t get hurt this time. I could see why. I’d only watched her go through one ugly breakup and it had made me want to drop everything to protect her–and this was when she was a total stranger. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but I think that was part of why I’d suggested what I suggested.

Pearl and I finally made our excuses and left her parents and brother to walk back to the Inn. I was stuffed from all of the little bites of food throughout the day and a little buzzed from the drinks. Pearl had been uncharacteristically quiet all night, mostly seeming happy to let me do the talking.

“Well,” I said as we strolled down mainstreet with the stars overhead and the fading sounds of conversation from the bonfire. “That could’ve gone worse. Although I think those Alabama boys might literally kill me if I ever cross you.”

She smirked. “They’re harmless.”

“I really like your family, though. Seriously.”

“You do? They didn’t freak you out?”

“No, why would they?”

“They can be a bit much. My mom, especially. She’s just so… ready. Like any time I’m with a guy she wants to anoint him as my soulmate the moment she meets him. She’s so desperate for me to be with someone and it can be so hard to know I’m constantly letting her down.”

“I can see that,” I said. “Honestly, I felt it myself, too. Like now we’re going to be letting down your whole clan when we call this thing off at the end of the week.”

“Yeah,” Pearl said, voice quiet.

We reached the front of the Inn and slowed our pace. Neither of us seemed entirely ready to step inside yet, but I wasn’t sure why.

A window above us clattered open, banging on the exterior. We both looked up and saw Lane and Curtis hanging halfway out the second story window. “‘Ey! Lovebirds!”

Lane grinned wide. “Kiss ‘er!”

“That’s okay,” I said. “It’s pretty late, we were–”

“Kiss your woman if you ain’t afraid of a little Crisco in your coffee!” Curtis squealed.

Crisco in my coffee? Frankly, I was afraid of that. But, from his tone, I sensed it was some kind of challenge to my manhood. I met Pearl’s eyes. “You don’t have to,” I said, quiet enough that only she could hear.

Pearl chewed her lip. “It might look suspicious if we don’t,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said, though no part of me was worried about how suspicious it would look. All I could think was how soft her lips looked and how long it seemed like it had been since I’d felt them on mine. “It might be.”

“Then get over here,” she said with a smile that I knew was going to haunt me. “Unless you’re scared of a little Crisco in your coffee, that is.”

I hooked her by the lower back and pulled her into me, kissing her more intensely than I’d planned. She sucked in a surprised breath, then I felt her tongue slip into my mouth and felt the gentle vibration of her moaning against my mouth.

Curtis let out a wild “Yee-haw!” that probably woke everybody who was trying to sleep within a block. Lane followed it with another high-pitched, “Sheee!” and a peeling round of laughter.

Pearl pulled away from the kiss and looked up at them. “Happy?” she asked.

“You sure look like you are!” Curtis called down. “Happier than Grandma Bobo when pickled pigs feet are on sale!”

“Pickled pigs feet?” I asked quietly.

“It’s a thing,” Pearl assured me. “Come on.” She took my hand and gave me a little tug toward the door. “Better get in there before they ask us to do anything else.”

Part of me wanted to stay right there and hope those Alabama brothers did. But the rational part of me knew she was right. I let her guide me inside and up to our room. With two separate beds and a shower door that wasn’t see-through, we were able to get ready for bed in relative silence without any of the same kind of tension we’d had back in Asheville. Except, even with a little distance between our beds, I felt like there was something crackling in the air between us again.

When I rolled to my side and tried to sleep, all I could think about was kissing her.

Every kiss made me hungry for more.

Every touch made me crave her that much more.

Every hour I spent with her made me less and less sure I knew what was best for me.

25

PEARL

The restaurant attached to the Ashford Inn apparently went by many names. At some point, it didn’t have a name. Then it had been Harper’s Hollow. Then The Honeypot, until somebody told the owners that phrase had a dirtier meaning than they realized. Now it was simply known as The Spot. Whatever they called it, the food was freaking delicious.

I met up with my mom and dad here this morning while Dean went for a morning run. It was like Steph said–Guys who looked like Dean really did squeeze exercise in all the time, no matter the circumstance. Personally, if I was ever on some kind of health kick, the habit was immediately and irrevocably broken as soon as I went out of town. Hell, sometimes a good show was reason enough to break my workout or dieting plans.

My parents were finishing off their breakfast of waffles and eggs. I had candied bacon with a huge, fluffy slice of homemade bread turned into French Toast. Our waitress was a surly young woman named Lin. She had the air of somebody who was grudgingly working to help out a friend.

When we were nearly ready to leave, a young girl maybe in her early twenties came out from the kitchen. She had on chef’s whites and a big smile.

“Hey there!” she said cheerily.

We all gave a bemused smile. My parents may not have lived in Manhattan, but we were all from the North. If a chef came out to our table back home, it was probably going to be to swear at us or maybe tell us they’d accidentally poisoned our food and were going to give us five percent off as an apology.

The chef was extremely pretty and practically gushing innocent youthfulness–which was a little weird considering she couldn’t have been much younger than me, if she was at all. She had short red hair, a smattering of freckles across her upturned nose, and a heart shaped face.

“I’m Harper,” she said, still smiling. “How was everything?”

“How was it?” my dad asked. There was an edge of warning in his voice, and my mom and I shared an eye roll because we knew exactly where this was going.

Harper looked suddenly nervous. “Was something wrong?”

“Wrong?” my dad stood up and took a step toward her. Harper took one step back, eyes wide, like she was deciding if she should run. “The only thing wrong is there wasn’t more of it!” His mock-serious act broke as he smiled, squatted a little, and burst out laughing.

“Easy there, Earl. You’re going to scare the girl,” my mom said.

My dad composed himself, then did a little chef’s kiss gesture before patting his rounded belly. “You are amazing. Best waffles and eggs I’ve had in years. And that syrup. Let me guess. It’s a homemade blend, right? How’d you get the waffles to have that perfect crunch? And what was that sneaky note in the syrup? It was nutmeg, wasn’t it? And was that cherry reduction?”

Harper’s unease melted away and she ended up gesturing for my dad to follow her back to the kitchen with her. We could hear the two of them jabbering about recipes and techniques.

My mom looked my way. “Should I be jealous? That girl was super cute.”

I grinned. “She had a wedding ring on. I think you’re safe. Not that Dad isn’t a catch for a twenty-something knockout like her.”

“Your father would be a catch for Miss America herself, and don’t you ever believe otherwise.” My mom actually sounded offended that I thought Harper wouldn’t try to steal my dad out from under her.

I smiled. My parents were always like that. The perfect couple. Pure happiness. Pure wholesome goodness at all times. Usually, I was simply happy for them. But sometimes I couldn’t help feeling a bit sad by comparison. Why did they make it look so easy and why did it seem so hard when I tried to be happy with someone?

“So now that Mr. Nosy is gone,” Mom said, leaning in and looking excited. “Tell me about Dean. And wow. He’s even prettier than that picture of him you showed me. No offense, but I thought maybe that picture was edited or something. You know how young people are these days. It’s filters this and Brazilian Butt Lifts that.”

“Right,” I said, smiling. “Because Dad is the nosy one.”

“Oh, come on. Spill the beans, Pearl!”

I told her a more or less true version of what had happened since the hotel in Asheville. I told her about the couple’s game we won (minus the last two games where I humped and then kissed Dean), the spa day, the restaurant, the road trip, and even how much we’d enjoyed the bonfire. When I finished, though, my mom was still watching me with a look I didn’t particularly like.

“What?” I asked.

She sat back in her chair, folding her arms. “It’s just that I am sensing there’s something wrong between you two. Did you have a fight? Your first trip together as a couple can be stressful. If you two had a little dust-up, it’s nothing to worry about. You know that, right? You’re both just learning to make room for each other.”

“Things have been great,” I said. “But not perfect.”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, Sweetie. It just has to make you happy. Think about a theme park. There are amazing moments, like when you get on the roller coaster or when you first come in through the doors. Sometimes even just sitting somewhere and having a quiet moment in a busy place can be great. But waiting in line during the summer? It’s a total nightmare. That doesn’t mean going to the park was a mistake, though, right?”

I grinned. “So you are saying men are like theme parks?”

“More than you know,” she added with a sultry little wink.

“Gross, Mom.” I laughed, though.

“Well? Does he make you happy?”

I found myself a little surprised by her words. As simple as they were, I wasn’t sure I’d ever really thought of it that way. I’d always seen the two of them in marital bliss pretty much year-round. “You and Dad are perfect.”

“Hah!” She shook her head. “Your father makes me the happiest version of myself I’ve ever known. That is true. But is it perfect? No. We have our fights. We disagree about things. But I know those bumps are just part of the journey. They’re little reminders. Think of it this way. If the weather was always a perfect seventy degrees and sunny, would you wake up every morning and appreciate it? Probably not. You’d get used to it and forget to be grateful. But, if it’s rainy sometimes or cold or miserably hot, those perfect days feel like bliss. That’s what being with your father is like, and the rainy days hardly ever come. But when they do, I just remind myself to be grateful for them. To be grateful for him.”

I thought about everything she said and found myself trying to wrap it around the situation with Dan and me. Did he make me happy? Yes. Were there bumps? Yes, but I still had doubts. “Okay, but what about Eric? Or Kyle? Or Patrick? Or any of the assholes I’ve dated? All of them made me happy at times, and we both know how all that ended.”

She gave me a sad smile. “I do. But love is a risk. It’s always going to be a risk. It’s the biggest risk any of us can ever take, because we’re completely laying ourselves bare for someone else. It’s not always going to work. Some people get lucky and find the right one quickly, and others are going to take the lumps like you’ve had to. But it’s the same as those rainy days, Pearl. When you find the right one–and I hope it’s Dean, by the way–you’re going to appreciate it so much more because you’ve seen the other side. I hope you won’t let what happened stop you from trying again. I know it can hurt, but it’s so worth it. When the right one comes along, you’ll know it. I promise.”

She took my hand in hers over the table and I squeezed it back. The weight of all her words sank into me and latched on to my feelings about this whole situation.

Deep down, I knew she was right about everything. I was also terrified of putting myself out there again–of fully laying my feelings bare for someone and giving them a chance to really hurt me.

One realization had started to dawn on me over the past few days. If I did decide I was brave enough to take that step again, I didn’t have doubts about who I would want to take it with. That was just as exciting as it was scary. Dean was the one I would want to try it with, but I wasn’t just scared about things going wrong if we dated. I was scared about admitting that my feelings for him were becoming more and more real, because what if he didn’t feel the same way?

My dad and Harper came back out from the kitchen and he was flanked by Lin, our waitress with the dark hair and upturned eyes, on one side and Harper on the other. There were two other young, pretty women with him as well.

My mom gave him an expectant look, probably waiting for him to explain how he went into the kitchen with one pretty girl and came out with four.

“This is Harper and her staff. Lin,” he said, pointing to the dark haired one. “This is Farrah,” he said, pointing to the girl with big curly hair. “And this is Gabby. She helps Harper’s husband and grandfather-in-law run the hospitality side of the inn.” Gabby had blonde, curly hair and was almost so attractive it was laughable. “Annd,” my dad said when he saw the look on my mom’s face. “They were all just taking the time to greet the family of the bride-to-be.” He went over to my mom and planted a kiss on her cheek, which earned him a smile and an amused look. My dad took his seat back at the table.

The four young women made small talk with us about the upcoming wedding and how excited they were to be hosting. My mom got to talking with them about cruise life, and I found myself tuning out the conversation as my thoughts returned to Dean.

Was my mom really right?

Was there anything worth the risk of going through what I went through again? I honestly didn’t know, but I also felt a new fear creeping into my mind. Would I live the rest of my life with regret if I let the next week pass and never made a move? I’d be letting Dean walk out of my life. Our fake relationship would come to an end. I’d be on my own again, and maybe I could actually think about chasing that dream of moving out to a small town. Without a guy to hold me back, I could pick anywhere in the world. My work could be done remotely. I could make a life for myself somewhere–maybe even a place like Fairhope.

And then Dean came in through the front door of the lobby. He was sweaty despite the chill outside, beaming, and carrying a small golden retriever puppy in one arm. “Look what I found!” he said, rushing toward our group. “The little guy was hiding in some bushes and tried to join me for my jog. I had to give him a ride for the last half. I think I’m going to name him Walter.

The four pretty girls standing at our table all shifted their eyes to Dean, and from the way their eyebrows crept up, I figured I could pretty much read their thoughts.

Hot, sweaty guy holding a puppy? Sploosh.

I wished I wasn’t splooshing right along with them.

* * *

“A puppy? Do you really think a puppy is a great idea right now?”

I’d had to watch the four girls gush over the puppy when Dean came in the lobby a few minutes ago. First, they gushed over the puppy. It wasn’t long before all the girls, except Harper, seemed to be trying to make it painfully clear that they thought Dean was gorgeous. There was the batting of eyelashes, flirtatious touches, and easy laughter.

To Dean’s credit, he cut them off after about two seconds by putting his arm around me and giving me a big kiss on the top of my head. I gave him a silent pass on the no-touching rule for that one. Good boy.

I knew the thing between us was supposed to be fake, but I felt a warm gush of appreciation toward him for how he’d handled it. He didn’t let their attention drag out to make me jealous. He simply made it as clear as he could, without being rude, that he was with me, and it had almost completely stopped the flirting.

But a dog? I was still watching the chubby little thing waddle and sniff around our room. A little while ago, it had lifted its leg and peed on my suitcase. Right now, it was rolling on its back making little grunting noises with its tongue flopping out the side of its mouth. The things eyes were adoringly pointed up at Dean as if, along with everyone else in the world, it had instantly fallen in love with him.

Dean scooped Walter up–he was set on the name, despite my protests. “Walter didn’t have anybody else. If he did, what was he doing in that bush? And there’s no collar. He needs me.”

I watched the two of them, unable to help smiling when Walter looked up with his stuffed animal eyes and gave Dean a flurry of licks with little snorts in between.

Dean smiled down and scruffed Walter behind the ears. “You needed to be rescued, didn’t you, little guy?”

“When we split after the wedding, I’m not sharing custody of him. My apartment is way too small for pets.” I’d meant it as a light joke, but didn’t expect the small jolt of anxiety the idea of splitting brought up.

Dean eyed me. “You really want to put Walter through a messy divorce?”

I sighed, but grinned. “He’s very cute. I’ll admit that.”

“And look. He likes you.” Dean put Walter down and he came up to try to play tug of war with the leg of my jeans, growling and wiggling his butt as he tried to backpedal.

I wrestled with him for a few minutes until he apparently decided he needed a spontaneous puppy nap. Walter rolled on his back with his big puppy belly up to the ceiling and his arms all tucked in. It was adorable, and I could feel myself already falling for the little guy. Damn you, Dean. The last thing I needed was to get attached to a real puppy in addition to the human shaped puppy that had been playing havoc with my feelings for over a week now.

“My mom loves you,” I said.

Dean produced an apple and took a big bite, speaking around a mouthful. “Yeah? I like her too. She’s really nice. I like all of your family, actually. Especially those guys from Alabama. Weird, but highly entertaining.”

“You really like them?”

“Hell yes. I have brothers and my little sister. My dad is… Well, he’s never really been the same since we lost Mom. He pretty much retreated into work and I think once you go too deep into something like that, you can’t ever completely come out of it. But, the point is, I never had shit like that. Family get togethers. Doting parents. A weird, perverted grandma. Scary cousins from Alabama with an unhealthy love of Crisco. It’s all great. Seriously.” He took a bite of his apple again.

“You’re talking like it’s going to keep going after this week. But we both agreed things will end after that. Didn’t we?”

“We did,” he said carefully. “And they should.” He added that last in a tone that made me unsure if it was a question or a statement.

“We should,” I said without much confidence. “Because even if you were ready for another relationship, I doubt you’d have time for one. You work all the time, don’t you?”

“I mean, not exactly. I’ve been focusing more on work since I split with Annabelle, but I make my own schedule.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, I’m pretty busy. With work and…”

“Your booming social life?” he asked with a grin.

“I have a social life, thank you very much.”

“Work friends?” Dean asked.

“I’m friends with Marley.”

“And?”

“And do I need a whole squadron of work friends? Marley is just the one I get along with. I mean, I talk to other people at work. I just don’t make time to hang out with them afterwards. Who has time for hanging out after work, anyway?”

“Not you, apparently. So it sounds like you’re the one who wouldn’t have time for a relationship. If you were ready to take that step, I mean.”

“I’d have time,” I said carefully. “I’ve really been thinking about our conversation in the car. About leaving the city behind. I’d have all kinds of time.”

“What are you saying, exactly?”

“What are you saying?”

There was a long silence. I could feel both of our tentative offers hanging in the air between us–like two extended hands, only neither of us was willing to close the final few inches and commit. The more I thought about making my thoughts clear, the more terrified I became.

My chest was in the grip of an invisible, massive hand. My lungs were squished tight until my breaths came in hollow rasps. I wanted to, but couldn’t make myself say the words in my mind.

Finally, Dean shook his head. “All I know is this guy I met on my run asked me to go fly fishing with him today. I’ve never done it, but always wanted to. I invited Curtis and Lane.”

The tension in my chest eased off and I could finally breathe again. Something had been right there for us to grab, but it passed again. The moment was gone, and that was probably for the best. For both of us. “That sounds fun,” I said.

“Want to come?”

“I can’t. I’m supposed to meet with Lizzie and Steph. Lizzie wants to get herself all dolled up in the wedding dress and have her hair done as a ‘dry run’ before the big day. Sounds exhausting, honestly, but I think it’s probably part of my sisterly duty.”

“Yeah, that’s too bad,” Dean said. “I guess we’ll catch up tonight, then?”

“Sure. Breakfast at The Spot was insanely good. I was kinda thinking of checking them out for dinner, too. You could join me, as long as you promise to be good and not flirt with all those pretty girls who seem to work at this place.”

“Hey,” he said, smiling and coming closer. He put a hand on my cheek and winked. “You know you’re the only pretty girl I’m flirting with this week.”

“Better be,” I said.

“Oh, of course. I’m fakefully yours, baby.”

I laughed. “Damn right you are.”

Dean had to head out before his fishing trip with the boys to meet with Maxwell Pollard for a work thing. Maxwell was staying by the big skyscraper known as “Stone Tower” in a luxury hotel with the rest of my co-workers. I hadn’t been out that way yet, but wanted to go soon to check in with Marley. I was hoping that yellow-toothed guy we’d seen at Dean’s talk wasn’t harassing her too much. Then again, if he was, I wanted all the juicy details.

Once I was alone again, I found myself turning over our conversation in my head. It felt like we had both been having a discussion beneath our words–one where we were flirting with the idea of giving things a shot. After everything my mom said, I was starting to wonder if maybe I really wanted that. I wondered what was holding Dean back. Did he really think I’d cheat on him or betray his trust like those other women had? Or was I simply not his type? A guy like Dean could have any woman in the world, and my insecurity couldn’t help asking why he would want me.

I may not know what I wanted. But I did know if Dean and I ever gave things a chance, I’d never betray him. I’d be his. Completely and fully. Maybe that’s why I was so scared to make a move.

I flopped down on the bed and sighed. I would’ve much rather known I was going fly fishing with Dean later. Watching Lizzie get dolled up in her dress for hours didn’t exactly sound like high entertainment, but it would at least be nice to hang out with both of my sisters at once. It had been too long since we were all together.

And in some ways, I guessed it was a relief to know I didn’t need to be playing the fake girlfriend show while I was with them. At least not until dinner tonight at The Spot, that was.

26

DEAN

I was wearing a pair of highly fashionable rubber pants that went up to my nipples and were held tight by overall straps. I thought of the way Pearl would probably smile and laugh if she saw me in this fisherman’s getup, and that made me smile, too. More and more, she was sinking into my thoughts. I found myself imagining what she would say or do as I went through my day. Pearl would like that view, I’d think. Or, Pearl would really get a kick out of that old man yelling at the birds. It was concerning, to say the least.

In some ways, it felt like my experience was taking on a new flavor. Her flavor. I happened to like that flavor, too. So how was I going to like going back to my normal life after this? It was going to be like going from coffee to watered down tea. For the record, I hated tea.

I sighed and tried to pull my thoughts back to the moment, because it was quite the moment.

I was thigh-deep in the chilly water of the river that ran through Fairhope. I’d hitched a ride with Zack Ashford, one of Old Man Ashford’s grandsons. He had a bit of a mountain man look about him and he ran the animal rescue center in town. Curtis and Lane were buzzing with excitement as they rode in the bed of the truck, stringing together strange southern curses and jokes the whole bumpy ride out of town. At one point, they even burst into song.

Walter hitched a ride in my lap, but betrayed me a few times to climb over in Zack’s lap. The man appeared to have a way with animals, so I gave Walter a pass.

Zack had taken the truck straight out of town and then veered off a series of dirt roads that cut through wooded hills until we reached a basin where the river widened out, running over smooth rocks in clear runs.

I took a deep breath of the cool air, enjoying the smell of wilderness. A few birds were chittering in the evergreens around us, but the evening was otherwise quiet save for the bubble of running water around our feet and the occasional swish of a fishing line.

I had no idea how to catch a fish, but I could see the appeal of this. I tossed my line out the way Zack had shown me, but mostly just watched the mountains in the distance. I found I didn’t particularly care if I caught anything.

The place was fucking beautiful, actually. I’d been guilty of thinking Manhattan was beautiful more than a few times. I thought there was something about the towering buildings and the pure energy in the air. It had seemed like it fit me for most of my life. But this? I could see why people went for this. It felt like the kind of place where you could relax your grip on life just a little bit. The sort of place you could find a pretty girl and settle down.

I wondered if that thought had bubbled up because I knew Pearl’s dream for her future–to escape the city and build herself a quiet life somewhere like this.

“Shee!” Lane said, breaking the silence. He was yanking his fishing pole and jumping excitedly. Curtis stopped what he was doing and started swearing at the fish on the line.

“Get in here, you little no leg piece of shit! Shee!”

Shee was some kind of Alabama warcry, it seemed. Or maybe it was just a Curtis and Lane thing. It was hard to tell with them.

Lane got a hold of his line and yanked the fish out of the water. It was maybe three inches long and couldn’t weigh much. I wasn’t sure how the thing had been putting up so much fight.

Curtis bent over, clasping his knees and howling with laughter. “Slather me in butter and call me a turkey! That thing ain’t much, but least it’s bigger than your pecker!”

“Bigger than my pecker? She’s bigger than that hemorrhoid you got after Great Grandpa Curtis’ bean-eatin’ contest!”

“You swore you ain’t gon’ tell nobody bout that, you chicken fucker!”

“Least I can get laid!” Lane laughed.

I grinned as the two of them started wrestling and laughing, splashing water and probably scaring away all of the fish in the process. Walter thought it was an invitation, so he got up from the flowers he was gnawing on and waded into the water up to his knees, barking and wagging his tail.

Zack grinned at me. “You have brothers?” he asked.

“Two,” I said. “Pierce and Damon. I don’t see them much anymore, but I do see my little sister, Laney, a few times a year.”

“Hah,” Zack barked. “Same here. Two brothers and a little sister. Greyson is the good brother. Patrick is the prick. And then we have Hailey. She used to not really be in our lives, but a couple years ago she came back.” He gave a nod toward Curtis and Lane. “How do you know these two?”

“Family of my girlfriend. I just met them for the first time yesterday, but something told me they’d love a fishing trip.”

“Ah, okay. I wasn’t sure if you were family of the wedding party. So who is your girlfriend to the bride-to-be?”

“Sister,” I said. “And I guess this is the kind of small town where a wedding party coming is big news, huh?”

“You bet. People have been talking about it for weeks since they booked a venue here. We get a lot of weddings out in the farms because it’s pretty, but one this size is pretty unusual. I told my brother a couple of you guys are bound to fall in love with it here and move out yourselves. Think I’m right?”

I gave the scenery another scan with my eyes. “My girlfriend might,” I said. Calling Pearl my girlfriend sent a little thrill through me, which felt both hilarious and pathetic. I wasn’t sure I’d really referred to her as my girlfriend too many times, but I liked the way it rolled off my tongue. I liked thinking of her as mine. “She has been talking about wanting to leave Manhattan for somewhere quieter.”

“Don’t blame her,” Zack said, nodding as he fiddled with his fishing pole. “You going to follow her if she leaves?”

“Not sure,” I said.

“Damn. That’s pretty cold. How long have you two been together?”

“About six months. And it’s more that I don’t think she’d ask me to come if she left the city.”

Zack gave a slow, knowing nod. “Got it. It’s like that? Too bad, man. I had a girlfriend once who wanted to study culinary stuff in France for a summer. I offered to come and she said I was smothering her. I backed off, she went, and she ended up pregnant by some guy named Raphaël. So, take my advice. If your girl tries to tell you she just needs some space during the move, you walk away before you get burned. Because ‘space’ is code for dick. Someone else’s dick, that is.”

I chuckled. “You know, I think that might actually be true.”

“Damn right it is.”

“My last girl,” Curtis said suddenly. I hadn’t realized the brothers had waded closer to where Zack and I were standing. “She left me for her cousin. Ain't that some shit?”

“Second cousin, Curtis. Don’t go pepper sprayin’ the stereotype.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Pepper sprayin’ the stereotype?”

“Yeah,” Lane said, looking a little indignant. “Like when you do somethin’ that makes people keep thinking something.”

“I think he means perpetuate,” Zack said quietly in my ear.

I grinned. “Well, I’m sorry to hear about your girl.”

“Ah, it’s alright,” Curtis said. “I had eyes for her sister, anyway. Point is you can’t trust ‘em. Women are snakes. Beautiful, sexy snakes. Snakes you’d like to smooch and cuddle from time to time, but snakes you can’t trust when your eyes are closed. Hell, I wouldn’t trust a woman any more than a barbecue joint that don’t trim its brisket.”

“Shee,” Lane agreed with a solemn shake of his head.

“Don’t go actin’ like you know, Lane.” Curtis flashed a semi-toothed smile. “We all know what you and that goat were doing all last summer.”

I raised my eyebrows, hoping I was misunderstanding the implication.

“Y’all don’t know shit,” Lane said. “Least I ain’t popped one of my testies blowin’ up a lawnmower like some kind of dumbass.”

Curtis shot him a look and gave him a shove. “You ain’t supposed to talk about that in front of strangers.”

“And you ain’t supposed to bring up Greta.”

As weird as the conversation was, I was smiling and enjoying the hell out of my evening. This trip to Fairhope was one of the first real breaks I’d taken from my regular life in a long time. I could feel a sort of calming warmth rising up inside me day by day. This was the sort of stuff I’d been craving without realizing it. Some dumb guy talk. Some fishing, even if I wasn’t catching anything. It all felt good, and as the conversation dwindled except for the occasional fight between Curtis and Lane, my thoughts drifted along, just as lazily as the river water.

I thought about what kind of life I might want when I was older. Would I really be happy if I swore off relationships forever? No, I thought. And if I found the woman I wanted, wouldn’t I do anything to keep her? Yes.

I was done pretending I didn’t want Pearl like that. I did. I was ready to be a dumbass and put my heart on the line again. But the part I wasn’t ready for was trusting myself. I’d been the one to fuck things up just as often as it had gone the other way. I was the problem, even when it might’ve looked the other way around. I got bored. I stopped putting in the effort to be a good boyfriend. It shouldn’t have surprised me that the relationships always soured.

Even if I might want to go straight back to Pearl and tell her I wanted her–no more pretending–I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t because I cared about her. Caring about her meant I wasn’t going to risk fucking things up with her. She deserved better. She deserved a guy who wouldn’t let her down.

So I would make sure I never let her down by making sure I didn’t get the chance. The decision sat in my stomach like spoiled food, but I knew it was the right one, so I bared it.

27

PEARL

Lizzie gave a twirl and a sassy little shoulder bump. She looked breathtaking, of course. Her dress was every little girl’s dream and her hair was bouncy and curled to perfection. “Well?” she asked.

“Jonas will definitely want to tear that off you,” Steph said, sounding bored. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it? We spend all this effort picking out the perfect clothes when the goal is kind of to make some guy want to get us out of them. It’s like picking food that would taste the best to throw up, or something.”

“What’s wrong with your brain?” I asked.

Lizzie smiled, seeming to ignore everything except the first part of what Steph said. “You really think he’ll like it?”

“You look great,” I agreed.

She looked pleased and turned to check herself out again in the multiple mirrors set at various angles. “Do you think it’s too much cleavage?”

“It’s your wedding dress,” Steph said. “You rock as much cleavage as you want. It’s your day, dude.”

She grinned. “Hmm. I think I like it.”

“Good,” I said. Now can we please be done with this? I thought. Not that sitting and watching my sister get dolled up for nearly two hours wasn’t a blast, but I was getting tired and a little hungry. Dean and I were meeting at The Spot tonight. Maybe it was more anticipation and excitement to have another meal alone with him than it was hunger. The last dinner we had together was amazing. It was easily my best fake date ever, and probably more enjoyable than any real dates I’d ever been on. Of course, there had been the way our not-date ended, too, but I knew there wouldn’t be a repeat of that part.

“Jonas likes when he can see my cleavage,” Lizzie said. She pursed her lips, staring at her own boobs. “He likes when they’re pushed up and together like this. I think he’ll like it.”

I gave Steph a discreet look when Lizzie wasn’t looking and mocked holding a gun to my head. She smiled and pulled my hand down.

“I’m sure he will,” Steph said. “You guys seem super happy with each other.”

“We are,” Lizzie agreed. “He has even been talking about maybe retiring early. His family has a lot of money, so he doesn’t have to work. He was thinking about buying a French chalet for us. Something we could vacation in during the summers. Properties all over the world. Maybe a yacht we could use to spend months at sea. It would be so romantic.” She turned, eyes wide and sparkling. “Can you imagine?”

“Sounds awesome,” Steph said.

“What about you, Pearl? How are things with Dean?”

“Oh, great,” I said quickly. “But this is about you. Um, what are you guys doing for your honeymoon? Have you decided?”

“Don’t change the subject!” Lizzie said.

“Yeah,” Steph agreed with an evil glint in her eyes. “Tell us everything.”

“There’s not much to tell. We’re super happy. We’re meeting at The Spot for dinner tonight, actually.”

“Oh, how nice. You should go find him and tell him to get cleaned up, then. Mom texted and said he’s helping dad with the car right now.”

My eyebrows shot up. “He’s what?”

“Yeah. Dad had this whole list of things he wanted Dean to take a look at since you said he was so good at fixing your car. I think mom is going to ask him for one of his “famous” massages after.”

Hello, anxiety. My heart pounded and my brain felt like it was squeezing in and trying to explode at the same time. “Well, I should probably get going. I need to go check on him.” The thought of Dean trying to bullshit his way into proving he knew anything about cars and massages in front of my parents was a red alert situation. He needed rescuing.

Steph grinned up at me like an evil villain. “You need to check on him for a little car work? Hm. That’s weird.”

“It’s super normal, actually,” I said tightly. I put my back to Lizzie and gave Steph a bulged eye warning glare.

She rolled her eyes, but seemed to agree to stop being a pain in my ass.

“Go,” Lizzie said. “It’s fine. Steph can keep me company.”

“There’s more?” Steph asked, voice laced with fear.

“Well, yeah. This was my main choice as far as dresses go, but I’ve got two backup dresses. I need to get your thoughts. We’ll send you pics, Pearl.”

“Great,” I said.

As soon as I was out of view from the windows of the dress shop, I broke into an unathletic run–something like a baby deer trying to rush across a frozen pond, I imagined. Dean was in trouble, and I had to save him. Somehow.

* * *

I found Dean on the sidewalk outside the Ashford Inn. He was standing beside my dad’s old Subaru with his hands on his hips. I saw him walk over to the open hood, point at something, and nod his head. He looked like he hadn’t changed from fishing and still had on some crazy kind of rubber jumpsuit with a dirty white shirt underneath. His hair was wet and tousled, but he somehow still looked amazing.

Walter was scrambling around his feet, narrowly avoiding death by Dean’s heavy feet several times, but wagging his tail like it was a great game. Walter spotted me before anyone else. He came up, snorted, whined, and rolled over for a belly rub with his little tail thumping on the pavement. I scratched him and gave him a final pat, then rushed over to Dean and my parents.

“Hey!” I called out. “How’s it going?” I asked.

“Great,” my dad said. “Dean was just going to take a look under the hood and see if he can figure out what the knocking sound is.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Yup,” Dean said. He planted both palms on the hood and leaned over the engine.

I watched, thinking that if mechanic work failed him, he could certainly play one in an erotic movie. My eyes fixated on the tightness of his ass and the rigid lines of muscle in his arms. Having an ass look good in a pair of rubber overalls like that was damn near superhuman, but Dean managed it. Of course he did.

“Knock in the engine?” Dean asked. “That could be a few things, but we should start with the spark plugs. It’ll be easier to check than the rods or the combustion chamber.”

If he was bullshitting, I thought Dean was doing a surprisingly good job at it for someone who claimed to not know shit about cars. Then again, I didn’t know anything about cars, either. He could be talking about flux capacitors and Jibbly-woo’s and I’d think it sounded pretty solid.

He reached into the car and fiddled around for a bit before coming out with what I recognized as a spark plug. “These look pretty rough,” he said. “You can pick some up from a hardware store pretty cheap and replace them. Might fix the problem. If not, we can look into it later and see what else it could be.”

“Wow,” my dad said. “Thank you.” He shot me an approving look and a double thumbs up.

I smiled back, a little confused. Had Dean been watching car repair videos in his spare time since I’d warned him about this? I supposed it wasn’t the craziest possibility. The man was clearly very smart. Maybe he taught himself just enough from the internet to pull it off.

“Now what about this?” My dad asked. “The front driver side tire has a little wobble to it. I mostly only notice it when I really get going, but it–”

Dean suddenly gave the wheel a hard kick with the heel of his rubber boot. There was a creak of metal and the whole car shook. I frowned, tilting my head and staring. The wheel had looked a little crooked before his kick, but it actually looked normal now.

“Hah! How about that!” My dad clapped with excitement. “The old kick it and fix it technique, huh? I like this guy, Pearl.”

Dean shot me a wink, followed by a bewildered look that said he hadn’t actually expected that to work.

I lingered for the next half hour while my dad walked Dean around the car, asking about so many problems that I wondered why he hadn’t brought the damn thing into a mechanic’s shop by now. Dean managed to look like he knew more than enough to make my story believable. There were a few things he admitted he wasn’t sure about, but he managed to peel off the door panel and fix a wiring issue that was stopping the driver side window from rolling up. He even fixed the seats that wouldn’t adjust.

“Now Pearl’s mom and I were hoping for one of those massages,” my dad said, “but–”

“Actually,” I said. “Dean and I need to get to dinner. If we’re going to make our reservation, I need him to go get cleaned up now.”

“Oh, sure,” Dad said. “Thanks, Son.” He clapped Dean on the shoulder and smiled.

Son? Was it that easy to win my dad over? Or was Dean just that damn likable?

I felt my heart melt a little when I saw how Dean reacted to my dad’s words, though. Dean was smiling, but looking at my dad in a way that made me think his words had meant a great deal. It made me think of what he’d told me about his strained family life and how our first assumptions about people were so often wildly wrong.

I’d first seen Dean at Pollard over six months ago and pegged him as the man who had everything. I thought he was rich, blindingly attractive, charming, and probably never had to slow down for a speed bump in his life. But Dean’s life hadn’t been perfect. I saw that now, and seeing the man he was despite the things he’d been through only made me appreciate him more. It also made me wonder if the women he’d been with had ever stopped to see that in him. Maybe they only used him like a shiny toy they could take for a spin and leave behind when the maintenance got to be too taxing.

It all broke my heart, especially when I saw that smile and the recognition in his eyes at my dad’s words.

Maybe Dean would never be mine. Maybe he never should be. But I made myself a silent vow that if he ever was, I’d take care of him. I’d help him to fill that hole in his heart and I’d let him see what it was like to be part of a family with me.

28

DEAN

The Spot was filled with a quiet hum of conversation and the distant clatter of kitchen noise. Pearl sat across from me in a green dress I recognized from our first night together in Asheville. She looked absolutely amazing, and I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off her.

“What?” she asked with a shy smile.

“Sorry,” I said. “You look nice in that dress. It’s the one from the hotel, right? The one I picked out?”

“Mhm,” she said. Her cheeks started to flush red.

I couldn’t help myself from asking. I knew I shouldn’t, but the words just came out. “Did you stick with my complete suite of recommendations from that night?” I asked. “Or did you go rogue in the panty department?”

“Well, there’s a washing machine and dryer here. So I cleaned all my stuff our first night.”

I waited, eyebrows raised.

“And those panties just happened to be next in the rotation.”

I felt my cock go instantly hard. Bad idea, Dean. I was just telling myself how I was ready to be Mr. Fucking Noble and let the girl go because it was best for her. Hard cocks and questions about little pink thongs were not the correct path to that decision. I might as well go take a tour of a donut shop right after promising myself to go on a diet.

But would one last fuck really be the worst thing in the world? We’d already crossed that bridge, after all. What difference would one more visit make? It could be like that last, ceremonial bite of a sweet before you swore them off for the summer.

“This food is really good,” Pearl said, changing the subject, which was for the best. “I could even read the entire menu. Bonus points.”

“It is,” I agreed. “I can see why they needed us to make a reservation. Harper is amazing.”

Pearl gave me a look. “Harper is, or her food is?”

I laughed. “Is that jealousy? It looks cute on you.”

She folded her arms.

I laughed again at the look on her face. This was not a woman to cross, and that was partly what made her so damn irresistible. “Her food is amazing. I’ve only got eyes for one woman in Fairhope, and I’m sitting across from her.”

“That’s better,” she said, smirking as she took a bite of her steak. “You’re full of shit, but at least the correct words are coming out of your mouth.”

“When I pretend, I don’t play around. You really are the only woman I’m thinking about.”

She looked down, smiling and not seeming to know what to say. I saved her the embarrassment by changing the subject again.

“How was the wedding dress thing?” I asked.

“Boring. Lizzie kept talking about her cleavage. How was the fishing trip?”

“Really nice, actually. I learned all the stereotypes about people from Alabama aren’t completely false.”

Pearl covered a smile. “Don’t let those two give Alabama a bad name. It’s a beautiful state. We’ve visited several times. My cousins are just… unique. They’re also from a really remote small town in the mountains. They hardly ever get out.”

I held up my palms. “No judgment here. I like those guys. They’re hilarious.”

“They are. Just make sure you don’t ever let on to them that you’re not treating me right. They can be super sweet unless they think someone isn’t treating their family well.”

“Yeah, I gathered that from our conversation at the bonfire.” I took a sip of my wine, sitting back and taking in the scene. I could see the mountains from the window with the silvery moon and stars behind. “It feels like this whole thing is going by so fast.”

“I know,” Pearl said. “Before, I thought I would want to get this all over with. Weddings have never really been my favorite thing. I know some girls want a picture perfect wedding. Something like what Lizzie has here. I’ve always just wanted a backyard wedding. Private with no guests. Just me and the groom.” She smiled and laughed at herself. “At least, that’s what I used to want before I decided I might never have that future. Maybe I’ll just get a bunch of cats.”

“You said you thought you would want to get this over with before. What changed?” I asked. Dangerous question, Dean. I knew what I wanted to hear, and I knew why I should be hoping she didn’t give me what I wanted.

Pearl met my eyes and didn’t respond right away. “You happened,” she said.

29

PEARL

Dean was kissing me as we backed through the door to our room. I had my hands in his hair and could taste the sweetness of the ice cream we’d had on his tongue.

“What are we doing?” I breathed.

He kicked the door closed behind him. “Something stupid. Again.”

We kissed more, stumbling backwards as I pulled Dean’s jacket off and tossed it on the dresser. “Are we sure we should do this?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “But I know I need you. I fucking need you, Pearl. Even if it’s temporary. You’re all I think about. Taking you again. Tasting you. I can’t control myself around you.”

“Good,” I said.

He pushed me down to the bed and peeled his shirt off, ripping a few buttons in the process from the sounds of it. He had his slacks off and boxers with them in moments.

“Take your dress off for me,” he said, standing tall and proud over me in his nudity. There wasn’t an ounce of self-consciousness from him, and why should there be? Every inch of him was perfect, sculpted artwork. The lamplight behind his body cast him in silhouette except for a bright yellow outline that highlighted the dusting of blonde hairs on the sides of his bare torso and powerful legs. He looked so perfect it hurt.

“I can’t with you watching like that,” I said.

He came closer and kissed me, then cupped my chin as he met my eyes. “You are fucking beautiful. You realize that, don’t you? If you weren’t, it would be easier to stop making bad decisions like this with you. Now take your dress off for me, and make it slow. I want to enjoy this.”

I ran my tongue over my lips and felt my blush deepen when I realized he had his hand on his erection. He was watching me hungrily, waiting.

I swallowed hard, then took the hem of my dress as I sat on the bed and started to lift it. The fabric glided up my thighs and over my hips, revealing the pink thong he’d picked out a week ago–a week that felt like a lifetime at this point.

Dean groaned, gripping himself tighter and pumping his fist. Maybe it should’ve been awkward to have him standing there touching himself to the sight of me like that, but it just felt hot. It made me feel sexy. Wanted. Desired. It made me feel like a prize, and I liked the way that felt.

I brought the dress up over my chest and felt my breasts lift and fall with a bounce. Dean made another sound of approval, eyes roaming me greedily. I tossed the dress beside me on the bed, watching him and waiting.

“The thong. Take it off. Slow,” he reminded me.

I chewed my lip, still watching the hypnotizing movement of his fist. I hooked my thumb in the waistband and pulled them down. I tossed them to the ground, smiling nervously as I waited for his next command. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I didn’t expect him to come forward and fall at his knees in front of me.

I only had time to raise my eyebrows before he pushed my legs apart and buried his head between my legs. “I need to taste you,” he groaned.

In my more civilized moments, I might have thought the idea of being tasted there was the sweaty nightmare of every self-conscious woman who had ever lived. But I wasn’t feeling particularly civilized. Right then, the idea of Dean Slater wanting to put his tongue between my legs like some kind of savage was just about the hottest thing I could’ve imagined.

I threw my head back, legs open wide and hands gripping his soft hair.

He buried his face between my legs, licking and sucking me with abandon.

I had no idea what he was doing, exactly, but I knew it felt good. I squirmed. I moaned. I gasped and pulled at his hair. I writhed against him, thighs pressing in on his head until he probably couldn’t hear a thing but his own heartbeat.

Foreplay wasn’t a race to an orgasm, but if it was, I would’ve won. I didn’t think it had been more than a minute or two before I was crying out and taking a hard handful of the sheets, body shaking and mind emptying as the pure bliss of my climax rocked me.

Dean watched me while planting soft, goosebump-inducing kisses on my inner thighs and lower belly. He looked like he was having the time of his life, and I decided when the time came to find a guy I actually planned to spend my life with, that was a new goal. Find a guy who looks like he enjoys giving me oral as much as Dean.

And that innocent little thought started the spiral.

I was coming down from my orgasm as Dean moved up over me and slid a condom on himself. I tried all the mental tricks I knew to shut down my anxiety brain, but none of it was working. The paranoid, worried thoughts seemed to echo in a kind of feedback loop until I could barely pick them out from each other. All that was left was a cacophony of noise and a tightness in my chest that made it hard to breathe.

Dean had been about to slide into me when he lifted his eyes to mine. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. It’s okay. Go ahead.” I’m just thinking how we’ll never be together and I’ll never find a guy like you. How I’ll never be happy and my future is going to be full of dusty houses, the meows of cats, and probably hair curlers and ugly slippers.

He shook his head, eyebrows furrowed as he rolled to his side. His hand was on my belly and the other was propping his head up above the ear. “Talk to me, Pearl. What’s wrong?”

I laughed a little at myself and put the backs of my hands over my eyes. “It’s stupid. I don’t even know what it is. I just had this thought and it spiraled and now I’m sort of freaking out on the inside.”

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. You know that, right? It can be done. Right now. I’ll just go off to the bathroom and take care of this thing myself. No hard feelings.” He was smiling in that boyish way he did sometimes.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It looks like it’s going to need professional help.” My eyes were on the shape of his manhood, which seemed like if it got any more erect it might explode.

Dean laughed. “I’m serious, Pearl.”

I let out a breath. “I want to. I want this, I mean. But I can’t help remembering the last time. I told myself I would never do that again. It just made it too hard to keep acting like this was all pretend.”

“Because it felt real when we slept together?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. Saying as much to Dean made my whole body want to blush.

“I felt it, too.”

My heart started pounding in a way that had nothing to do with my anxiety. Was he admitting he wanted to give making this real a try? Because I was pretty sure if he said as much, I’d jump all over the offer at this point.

“But, we’re adults,” he said, erasing my hope like a strong breeze carrying away a puff of smoke. His tone was easy and reassuring, almost as if he thought he was telling me what he thought I wanted to hear. For once in Dean Slater’s life, he hadn’t read the situation right.

Still, I smiled and nodded my head. “Yeah, we are,” I agreed.

“And adults can have a little fun without getting carried away, right?”

“Right.”

“Here,” he said. He lifted my hand to his bare chest, placing it in the center of his ribcage. “Breathe with me. We can calm down together, and then you can decide. Close your eyes,” he added when I stared up at him.

I did as he ordered, focusing on the feeling of my hand on his chest and his on mine. Once I felt the slow, steady pace of his breathing, I realized how fast mine was. With effort, I shifted my attention to my chest and made it move more slowly than it wanted. I took the breaths in, holding them until I felt Dean release his.

After only a minute or two, I felt calmer. Without the rapid breathing, the tightness in my chest was gone. With the careful patience of Dean, I felt calmer again.

I opened my eyes, meeting his and nodding. “That’s better. Thank you.”

“Any time. Do you want me to give you some space?”

I considered his question. I knew he wanted this to just be sex. In his head, it was only two bodies getting satisfaction. I should’ve told him “no” because I knew it would be more than that for me, but I couldn’t.

I took his shoulder and pulled him closer to me. “Space?” I said. “Right now, that’s the last thing I want. I want you closer. I want all of you.”

The fiery look in Dean’s eyes made me wonder if he knew how I really meant those words, or if he was just thinking about the sex. I wasn’t sure, and I decided I could worry about the consequences later.

I let him climb back over me and gently urge my legs apart with the weight of his hips. He stared down at me, hair dangling down in messy locks as he held my gaze. “You’re sure?” he asked.

“Positive,” I said. And in that moment, I realized I was. I was sure I didn’t want to hold back anymore. I was sure that I would never be happy if I spent my whole life guarding my heart. Because what was the point of a precious treasure if I had no one to share it with? And that was maybe what I’d been missing. I had to realize my love and my trust was precious, but the point of having those things in the first place was to share. They weren’t feelings to hoard away and protect until I grew old and tired. It was risky, yes. It was scary, yes. But in so many ways, it felt like the whole point of being alive.

I might not be ready to tell Dean all those things yet, but I felt the certainty in my own chest solidify. He could keep thinking this was fake for now. But for me? The feelings were real. I was tired of pretending they weren’t.

Dean slid himself into me with passionate care. He was watching me so carefully that I realized he was looking for any signs of anxiety.

It was sexy and sweet and heartbreaking all at the same time. I’d never felt so taken care of. So protected.

He bent to kiss me softly once on the lips, hips starting to move in a slow, agonizingly pleasant rhythm.

I kissed him back, wrapping my hands around the back of his neck to kiss him deeper before sliding them down the broad muscular shape of his back. His weight on me felt good. It felt safe.

I hooked one leg around him, urging him deeper into me and faster.

As if he’d been waiting for permission, Dean picked up his pace, pounding into me until our skin slapped loudly in the quiet room.

I bent my knees, spreading my legs wider as I drank up the delicious feeling of his friction inside me–the wonderful fullness and knowledge that our minds were both fully fixated on the same act and the same space. It was a kind of closeness I don’t know that I’d ever felt with another person, but I felt it now, and I could see how addicting it could become.

Time and space seemed to fill with static until I was just a bundle of sensation and instinct. Somewhere distantly, I could hear myself moaning and feel my hands digging into his sweaty skin. I could feel the pumping of his thick cock into me, stretching my walls and my entrance like no man ever had.

I lost all sense of time until I felt Dean tense and his breathing grow ragged. My eyes rolled back as my orgasm tore through me like white heat, radiating from my core to my fingertips and toes.

“Oh my God,” I breathed as Dean rolled off me.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “If every dinner together with wine is going to end up like this, I can’t promise I won’t invite you out to eat again.”

“I think I was the one who suggested the dinner, actually.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “Are you saying this was all part of your plan?”

“I gave up trying to have a plan when it comes to you.”

He smiled, but got a distant look in his eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked.

“I was thinking about that dream of yours. Leaving the city behind to come live in a place like this. And I thought it’d be a shame if that dream ended with you alone.”

My heart started to pound. What was he saying?

“So,” he continued. “I think you should get back on the horse when this is all over. Give dating another try.”

Oh. He was telling me to live my dream with some other guy. I felt gutted, but I smiled like nothing was wrong. “I’ll think about it, I guess.” Freaking Dean Slater, the man who always said the perfect thing, was on a rare streak of strike outs tonight. It felt like his mind was a radio that just couldn’t quite pick up the tune mine was on. It made me feel alone. Silly. Hopeless.

“Good. I want you to be happy, Pearl.”

He kissed my forehead, and I felt like punching him in the stomach and screaming. You want me to be happy? Maybe realize it’s you I want. Maybe don’t try to pass me off to some other guy now that you got what you wanted from me.

I almost spoke my mind, but I didn’t because Dean had been clear about his intentions. He never claimed the sex was supposed to lead to something. I hadn’t helped dispel that idea, either. So what right did I have to get mad that he wasn’t falling for me like I was falling for him?

“I’m really tired,” I said. “I should get some rest.”

“Okay. By the way, there’s apparently going to be some kind of town basketball tournament tomorrow. Zack told me about it. He said we’re all invited to participate, but warned me that it gets pretty intense. I was planning to go watch. It would probably look odd if you weren’t with me. Are you up for it?”

“Yeah, sure.” I smiled and got up to go clean up. I found myself suddenly self-conscious of my nakedness and knelt to quickly grab my clothes, covering my butt as I walked to the bathroom.

Once the door was closed, I rested my forehead against it. I felt like crying, and not because I blamed Dean for anything. I felt like crying because I was doing it again. I was letting my heart lead the way. Again and again, I’d seen that it wasn’t going to work with Dean, but I couldn’t stop myself from wanting him. All of him.

We had good sex together and I enjoyed spending time with him. And in a few days, the wedding would happen, we’d head back to Manhattan, and go on with our lives. I needed to stop imagining some kind of future where he dropped everything to be with me–where he asked me not to leave the city because he didn’t want to lose me when this was all over.

All I could do was tell him how I felt. I had no idea if I’d get the courage to go through with it, but it was the only thing left to do.

I rubbed my eyes and looked in the mirror. I glared at myself. Stupid, I thought. Why did I have to be so stupid? Why couldn’t I just stick to the plan?

30

DEAN

Zack Ashford hadn’t been kidding when he said the whole town was going to be at the game. Everyone was gathered around a set of four basketball courts in a park at the edge of town. The mountains stretched out in the background. They glowed with a fiery orange light from the rising sun at our backs. It was a chilly morning and everyone was bundled up in jackets or with blankets over their fold-out chairs.

I brought Walter and let him roam free. He chose to go run around and play with the little kids, occasionally yapping loudly enough that I knew he was still nearby.

I was on a set of bleachers with Pearl to my left and Old Mr. Ashford to my right. He had Billy and Molly, the young kids who had been running the counter, to his right. They were rowdily cheering for their dad, a man named Greyson, who I learned was Harper’s husband. But the kids weren’t Harper’s. Over the last two days, I’d had more small town back stories unloaded on me than my brain could handle. All I knew was some serious soap opera shit had gone down here in Fairhope, and maybe it wasn’t all over yet.

As far as I could tell, the outcome of the basketball games wasn’t really the point of the gathering. Mostly, people were just socializing on the side, snacking, drinking, and doing anything but actually watching.

There were a few notable exceptions. Pearl’s Grandma Bobo had discovered there was a tournament where a bunch of sweaty, athletic men would be running up and down the court. She had her little chair pulled right up to the edge of the concrete and was leaning so far forward I worried she might tip over. She wasn’t cheering when someone scored. Instead, she was cheering when the action came her way and she got a better look at the men who were playing.

Curtis and Lane were leading an intense game of volleyball off to the side with a group of teenage kids from town. Based on the amount of arguments breaking out, it seemed like they all wanted to win very badly.

“I thought this kind of stuff only happened in TV shows,” I said, nudging Pearl. She’d been unusually quiet so far this morning. I figured maybe she was getting nervous about the upcoming wedding.

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “It’s pretty wild.”

“Everything alright?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Everything’s super fine. Perfect.”

Hmm. Her words spilled out one after another, and I didn’t believe a single one of them. “Want to take a quick walk?”

“We don’t have–”

“Come on.” I took her hand, leading her out of the bleachers and down the sloping grass hill behind all of the action. Every step took us farther from the hum of conversation and the squeak of sneakers on the court.

We walked a few minutes in silence until we reached the abandoned town square where the river ran beneath the tiny footbridge. It seemed like the entire town had cleared out for the game. We wandered up to the bridge and leaned on the railing, watching the water lazily drift by, dodging the smooth rocks and bubbling as it went.

“You can talk to me. You know that, right?” I said.

“I know. But it’s nothing, really. I’ve just been thinking a lot about the future, I guess.”

“What about it?” I asked.

“If I really want to leave the city. What kind of life I want to have if I do. What kind of life I want to have if I don’t. That kind of stuff.”

“Which way are you leaning?”

“Leaving,” she said simply. She didn’t take her eyes from the water at first, but after a few moments of silence, she shot me a cautious glance.

I had a nearly overwhelming compulsion to take her hands and ask her to stay in Manhattan. The bigger part of me that cared about her happiness wanted to tell her to leave–chase her dream. But I wanted to tell her I’d be right behind her, wherever she went. And then I thought about how much that would fuck things up for her, no matter what she might be thinking. I imagined coming out with her to a place like Fairhope. Instead of a fresh start, she’d have me at her side. Things would probably be good for a little while. Great, even. Then I’d do what I always did and find a way to fuck it up. And then? Then she’d probably decide small town life wasn’t the dream she’d imagined.

If I let myself be greedy for a few months of happiness with her, I might put a stain on her future that I couldn’t ever erase. It wasn’t worth the risk–not for her.

So I smiled, nodding. “Chase the dream, right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “But is it normal if I don’t even know? I mean, who says this dream of mine is going to make me happy? What kind of lame dream is that?”

“The only kind,” I said, smiling. “The best kind, actually. If you don’t know, that means it’s a risk. It means you’re putting everything on the line. You’re risking something you don’t think you can afford to risk, and you know what? The only shit worth that kind of risk is the real stuff. If you’re thinking about that kind of risk, you know you’re on the right track. You’re trying to live your life. Maybe you’ll screw it up, but you’re trying. That’s the important part.”

Pearl looked suddenly deep in thought. She stared down at her hands on the railing, eyebrows drawn together. “Isn’t that the opposite of what we both said we’d do six months ago? When we swore off relationships? We said no person was worth that kind of risk anymore.”

“Yeah,” I said. I felt something heavy settle in my chest. “I guess it was.”

“And you’re still going to stick to it?”

“Forever? No. I don’t think I ever really believed that. I’m sure some pretty little firecracker will come along eventually. Someone who makes me question everything I thought I knew.”

Pearl chewed her lip. “But she hasn’t yet?”

I chuckled. “Oh, she has. But I don’t know how many times I can do the right thing and stick to my guns before I get weak and give in. How many Pearl Moreno’s can come along before a man finally gives in and takes one for himself?”

“So eventually, but not with me?” she asked. Her voice was so small and delicate that it practically tore my fucking heart out.

I knew exactly what she wanted to hear. The worst part was, I wanted to say the words she wanted. I wanted to scream them so the whole town would hear. I want you, Pearl. I’ve never wanted something so badly in my life, and that’s exactly why I can’t have you.

“Maybe,” I said. “Yeah. Some other girl. Eventually, I guess.” I hated saying it, but did it anyway. It was bullshit. I knew it was, but Pearl didn’t. And if she didn’t know, then maybe she’d stop hanging her hopes on me. Maybe she’d move on. She could realize she was ready to date again and that the right guy was still out there. Sure, maybe I’d want to strangle the next guy to put his hands on her, but what I didn’t know wouldn’t kill me. I’d have to cut contact after this. Completely.

“We should head back,” Pearl said. Her voice sounded thick, and it tore up my insides all over again to hear it–to know I’d caused that kind of pain.

But a little pain now was better than a lot later, right?

I wasn’t sure. All I could do was keep following down the path I’d started on. All I could do was keep hoping I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life.

31

PEARL

Dean ended up getting pulled into the basketball game about an hour after we’d arrived. He was hilariously bad at shooting the ball, but good at the other parts. I sat in the bleachers beside Molly and Billy Ashford, who were losing their voices already with how much they were cheering for their dad, Greyson. I thought about how half the men in this town looked like they belonged in some kind of shirtless firefighter magazine, especially the two Ashford men.

It was a different kind of community than I was used to in Manhattan. Sure, I knew plenty of people in the city, but I also had to go out of my way to make sure I saw them. As someone with constant anxiety that I barely kept at bay, that was a tall order. I could’ve called or texted half a dozen people back home and met for drinks pretty much any night, but I usually wound up just hanging out with Marley when she invited me.

In a little town like this, you could walk down Main Street and probably run into four people you knew and get caught up on all the latest town gossip in a few minutes.

I didn’t have long to dwell on my thoughts, though. My mom and dad showed up a little while into the tournament and we all wound up officiating a makeshift soccer game with way too many small children. Basically, we were trying to make sure none of the roughly twenty small children in the group simply followed the ball outside the bounds of the game and wound up chasing it down the hill and into the river.

Before I knew it, the afternoon had passed, and everybody took a temporary break to gather around the basketball courts for lunch. An entire squad of older dad-types were grilling a staggering number of hotdogs and hamburgers in the grass. Naturally, my dad was magnetically drawn to the grills, just like every other dad-aged guy in Fairhope. There was a lot of grunting about not overworking the burgers and fiddling with the fire from the men. Some of the women left and came back with platters of sides like coleslaw and macaroni salad. Harper’s mom even baked fresh hamburger and hotdog buns from scratch.

I sat with my mom and dad in the grass. I was about to bite into my burger when Dean showed up beside me with two hamburgers and a hotdog on his little paper plate. He was sweaty, despite the chill in the air, and smelled like sunscreen. He smiled easily, saw my parents giving us a look, and then planted a kiss on my cheek.

I had guiltily enjoyed all of his attempts to play boyfriend up until then, but I found the kiss just made me feel a little bit dirty and sad. Until that moment, I had done a pretty decent job of not thinking about our conversation on the bridge. He didn’t want to be with me. That was the fact staring me in the face. I needed to be a big girl and accept it. After all, I’d entered into this whole thing understanding he didn’t want relationships or commitments. Maybe he’d given me reason to wonder if that would always be the case back in Asheville when he talked about how people could change their minds, but he obviously hadn’t.

“You two are just so freaking adorable together,” my mom said.

I gave a tight smile. “Yep.”

“You looked good out there,” my dad said, nodding toward Dean.

Dean laughed. “Thank you, but you clearly weren’t watching if you think that. I think every shot I took missed the rim by at least a few feet. Basketball isn’t my sport.”

“Which one is?” my mom asked. “With a build like that, I know you’re good at something.”

“I wrestled in high school and a little in college, actually,” Dean said. “I do a little Jiu Jitsu now when I have time.”

“Ohh,” my dad said. “I used to do Taekwondo back in my younger days. Want to spar some time?”

“Dad,” I said. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

Dean was grinning. “Some time, sure.”

“You know,” my mom said. “I’m still waiting to get one of those magic massages Pearl has talked about.” she rolled her neck and gave an exaggerated groan. “My neck is killing me. I must’ve slept on it wrong. Would you mind?”

To my horror, she turned her back and touched a spot on her shoulder that was supposedly bothering her. Dean gave me a slightly worried look, but I nodded, bulging my eyes toward him in a “go do it” kind of way.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, sure.” Dean scooted closer to her, sitting cross legged behind her. He flashed my dad a quick smile, then rubbed his palms together for a bit. “Gotta warm the hands up. It’s good for… circulation.”

“Right,” my dad said, nodding and watching with intense interest, as if he was about to observe a master class on massage theory.

I suddenly wished I could snap my fingers and teleport out of this situation.

Instead of doing what a normal person would do and actually massaging my mom’s shoulders, Dean opened with a series of little karate chops. Worse, he was making a breathy “Hyah” sound with every other chop.

Despite how horrified I was, I found myself covering my mouth, trying not to sputter with laughter.

My dad’s eyebrows were up.

For a few long seconds, my mom made no sign of reacting. Then she finally let out a satisfied sigh. “Wow,” she said. “That’s so nice.”

Dean looked at me, clearly baffled but relieved. Instead of stopping while he was ahead, he formed two fists and stuck out his index finger, then started jabbing her with small punching motions. He kept up with the sound effects, too.

My mom groaned with relief, rolling her neck to the side to give him better access. “Oh, Earl. You’ll have to learn this. Can you teach him, Dean?”

“Sure,” Dean said.

The massage went on for a few more minutes until Zack Ashford walked over.

“Giving free massages?” he asked. “You were holding out on me, Slater. Can I get in line?”

Dean shrugged. “Um. Sure?”

Half an hour later, Dean was still massaging people with his ridiculous karate chops, finger pokes, and even a new move he invented on the fly where he spread his fingers, bent them, then rolled them around people’s backs. The worst part was that every move he came up with had to have its own sound effect. No, scratch that. The worst part was nobody seemed to find it anywhere near as hilarious as I did. It left me sitting there, watching and trying desperately not to die with laughter each time he invented a new move.

I was coming to learn that everything Dean did in life just worked. If he didn’t know how to fix cars, it was fine. He could watch a few videos on the internet and become an expert. If he wanted to give a speech without a plan, he’d kill it. Give a dozen people massages without any experience at all? No problem, he’d figure it out on the fly and magically be amazing at it.

It probably should’ve been irritating, but it just seemed to hollow me out until I thought a stiff breeze would’ve whistled right through me.

I liked Dean. I really did. Like probably wasn’t even a strong enough word. Dean made me want to take the heart I’d been so carefully guarding and shove it into his hands while begging him to take it. I wanted to just be happy with him. I wanted it so badly it hurt, which was why it stung even more that he didn’t want to take it.

But as much as it stung, I needed to admit he was a better man than any of the guys before him. At least he wasn’t pretending he’d care for my heart. He wasn’t letting me hand it over and then tossing it away carelessly later. He had told me up front and openly that he wasn’t interested. I had to respect that and accept it. Even if it was hard.

Molly and Billy Ashford showed up during the massages and started mimicking the moves they saw Dean doing. Molly was finger punching Dean’s neck with karate sound effects and Billy was chopping his shoulders. Everyone in town seemed like they were falling in love right along with me.

Just a few more days. A few more days and he’d be out of my life. Maybe with a little distance and a little time, I could find a way to twist the things that happened here and tell myself it hadn’t actually been all that special.

I doubted it, but that wasn’t going to stop me from trying.

32

PEARL

Two days went by before I knew it. Dean had to travel out to Stone Tower to meet with Maxwell Pollard both days, which meant I hadn’t seen much of him. Being left to my own devices was better than the alternative. As much as I had come to enjoy spending time with Dean, it was bittersweet.

The only catch was I had to deal with his hyper puppy, Walter, while he was gone. I tried not to like the dog since I knew he’d be out of my life soon, but it was a losing battle. Between the puppy eyes, kisses and tail wags, I was falling fast for the little guy.

It was Wednesday, and the wedding was in three days. Lizzie had been mostly swept up in a torrent of wedding planning. Steph was binge watching some show she was currently obsessed with about dragons and politics. My parents were driving out to hike all the local trails, and most of my extended family was just getting by in their rooms, as far as I could tell.

The day was unusually warm for Winter, which meant it was about sixty degrees and sunny. I headed out in a light jacket and a dress, not really sure what I was going to get up to, but knowing I wanted to get out of the room.

I hadn’t even made it out of the lobby before I spotted Harper, Lin, and Farrah sitting at the sofa by the fire. They saw me and waved for me to come over.

“Sit!” Harper said. “The Spot is closed on Thursdays and Sundays to give us all a break. We were just talking about your sister’s wedding.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, taking a spot on the loveseat across from them.

“Yeah,” Farrah said. “We were wondering what the story is. Like why such a big wedding? Why is half the company you work for here? We heard a lot of them are staying over in Stone Village.”

“That’s what they call the places around the tower,” Lin said when she saw the look on my face.

“Oh. Yeah, well my sister is marrying one of my bosses. He has always been extravagant and likes for everyone to know how wealthy he is. They are old money, though. All three brothers who run the company. I don’t know how much they have, exactly, but it’s quite possibly into the billions.”

Lin made a low whistling noise.

“Yeah,” I said. “So the cost of shuttling all of us halfway across the country wasn’t a factor. He made the invite optional, but you know how that kind of thing goes. We all pretty much understood that anybody who stayed back in Manhattan would be on the shit list. As far as I know, everybody he invited came. But, only the people who work on my floor are here for the wedding. The rest headed back after our conference in Asheville last week.”

“This is why I’m glad I don’t have a real boss,” Lin said.

“Hey!” Harper slapped her. “I’m real.”

Farrah was smiling. “A real pushover.”

“So,” I said. “I hope I’m not prying, but is this what you two want to do long term? Working for The Spot with Harper? Or do you have other things in mind.”

“Actually, I’m doing some graphic design stuff,” Lin said. “One of the guys in Stone Tower came by town a few weeks ago looking for recruits. They need more muscle for their marketing department or something. Who knows, who cares? But it pays well, and I start in a few days. I pretty much already know my way around all the photo editing software and they’re offering to train me on the job in the rest. Harper is heartbroken at the thought of losing me.”

“Very much so,” Harper agreed. “I’d say I have no idea how I’ll ever replace your sarcastic, lazy presence at The Spot, but I do. I’ll replace you with someone way more qualified and way less of a pain in the ass to work with.”

Lin nodded. “See? She’s going to miss the shit out of me.”

I smiled, but I was still hung up on what she’d said about the job. “That job you got recruited for. Do you know if they’re still hiring?”

“They are. Unless you didn’t notice, there’s not much of a workforce to pick from out here. A bunch of people moved out when Stone Tower finished construction, but other than them, it’s just us townies unless you drive more than forty minutes North or South. Why? You know somebody looking for work?”

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “I have somebody in mind.”

33

DEAN

Three days until the wedding. It felt too soon and not close enough at the same time. I was in a meeting with Maxwell Pollard out at Stone Tower. I’d been in this place all damn day, but Maxwell had a new, high-profile client he’d signed on. Ever since I started consulting for him, he’d become more and more dependent on my advice.

At the end of the day, the Pollard brothers were all passably competent at what they did. But there was no escaping how they got where they were. Old money. They bought the company and they bought their way to success. Alec and Maxwell both cared deeply about the company’s success, while Jonas thought of it more as a fun diversion he might set down at any time if he got bored.

Alec simply wanted to dominate the competition. Maxwell wanted to prove he was more than a trust fund kid. He wanted to learn everything he could from me so he could run the company as effectively as possible.

I admired Maxwell’s drive and motivation, but at the moment, I really wanted to be back in town. I only had three days left with Pearl in my life, and I wanted to enjoy whatever scraps of that life I could.

Instead, I was leaning over Maxwell’s shoulder at a computer in a borrowed office room. He was showing me a table of data and asking about advertising strategies.

It was nearly half an hour later before I was finally allowed to go. On my way out, I bumped into Alec. He was standing in the hallway just outside the office. He saw me and held up a palm, stopping me.

“I hope you know my brother will be weaning himself off of you soon,” Alec said.

“Alright.” I shoved my hands in my pockets and shrugged. I wanted the Pollard contract for as long as I could have it, but I wasn’t about to lower myself to pissing my pants because Alec wanted to threaten me. His thoughts about me had been clear now for months. The man hadn’t gathered the balls to make that clear to my face until now.

“I’ve nearly convinced him you’re too distracted with your little romance. He agreed it was inappropriate. Some of the things you two have been doing together on a work trip do not inspire confidence in your commitment to Pollard Marketing and its goals.”

I was in the middle of walking away from Alec, but something about his words made me lift my chin and clench my teeth. I closed my eyes, willing myself not to bite, but I just couldn’t help it. In some roundabout way, I felt like he was talking about Pearl, and I didn’t like the tone of his voice.

“Work trip?” I asked, turning to face him. “One, I’m not your employee. I’m a contractor. A consultant. Two, inviting employees to a work conference for a week doesn’t give you autonomy over how they spend their time outside of work functions. Three, if you think my loyalty to your company is going to stop me from enjoying my girlfriend in my free time, you’re delusional.”

“Girlfriend. Right,” Alec said.

I didn’t like the slimy way he said it, or the narrowed suspicion in his eyes.

“Yeah, that is right,” I said. I wasn’t much for punching people in their dumb faces, but Alec was making a strong case for turning me into that guy.

“Well, you should get going. Your doting girlfriend is probably waiting. Assuming you even know where she is.”

I took a step closer to Alec, reminding him that I towered over him. Hell, if I was properly motivated, I thought I could’ve shot-put the little bastard through the nearest window without breaking a sweat. “What is it you’re trying to say? Maybe you should come out and say it plainly.”

“I’m saying there’s something strange between you two. Pollard Marketing doesn’t need the services of people who lie and keep secrets from their bosses. We need people we can trust. And I’m tired of someone who keeps secrets having so much influence over my–”

“Everything okay?” Maxwell had opened the door from the office and was standing there, eyes shifting between the two of us.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Is it, Alec?”

He glared, but nodded. “Just perfect. We were talking about the future.”

“Yeah. All good,” I said, leaving with my blood pumping.

I got in my car, still feeling irrationally pissed over the whole exchange. What the hell was all that, anyway? I knew Alec had his doubts, but I didn’t think he’d take it so far. Confronting me to my face and accusing me of that bullshit? The bullshit happened to be true, but that wasn’t the point. His implication that he might threaten Pearl’s job over this made me nearly put him through a wall, too.

Maybe I’d known we would both lose our jobs if the truth came out, but hearing the threat directly from his mouth made it more visceral. I needed to protect her, but I wasn’t sure how to do that exactly. It was enough to drive me fucking mad.

I punched the steering wheel, fuming in silence as my brain churned, thinking over everything I could imagine that might help get us out of this–to get her out of this.

34

DEAN

I headed to the Ashford Inn, hoping to find Pearl. I didn’t have a fully formed plan in my mind yet about what I wanted to do, exactly. I only knew the plan wasn’t going to be fun, but I needed to do whatever it took.

I ran into Pearl’s mom, who was talking to Harper Ashford in the lobby.

“Dean! Honey!” Pearl’s mom came over, hugging me tight before gesturing to Harper. “Harper is going to be cooking for our rehearsal dinner and the wedding. We were just going over some of her ideas about appetizers. What do you think? Would it be weird to have crab meat wontons if our main courses are French?”

“There’s no such thing as a weird time for crab meat wontons,” I said. “That’s my official stance.”

Her mom squeezed my arm, smiling up at me. “See? I knew Dean would settle it for us.”

Harper smiled. “Then it’s settled! Crab meat wontons.”

“Have either of you seen Pearl around?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Harper said. “We were actually just talking to her like an hour ago. She said she was going to go into town and try to pick out a new dress for the rehearsal. She said the one she packed got something on it.”

“Great. Any idea which store she’d go to?”

“Probably the only one in town that sells that kind of stuff,” Harper said, grinning. “It’s called Tully’s Threads. You can walk there in a few minutes. Just go that way once you get outside and it’ll be on your right near the end of Main Street. Can’t miss it. The sign out front is a big spool of thread. Like the name. Tully’s–”

“Yeah, got it,” I said. “Thanks.”

I followed Harper’s directions. Sure enough, Tully’s Threads was on my right after a couple blocks. Inside, the place was small but cozy. Mannequins wearing formal dresses and gowns lined the windows and the walls were covered in dresses of every style imaginable. There was an older woman browsing tiny dresses for kids who I guessed were probably her grandkids.

Near the back, I saw old west style dressing rooms in open view. A pair of tall swinging doors blocked everything but a pair of pale ankles. I squinted at them, trying to decide if I recognized them as Pearl’s. I saw shorts fall down in a pile around the ankles and the feet stepped out gingerly.

I gave a tight smile to the woman behind the counter, who was staring openly at me. I went to the door of the changing rooms. “Pearl? Is that you?”

“Dean?” her voice came back muffled through the door. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for you.”

“Well, you found me. But I’m not exactly decent right now. Can it wait a little bit?”

“Um, yeah,” I said. “I can wait out here until you’re ready.”

“No, thank you,” Pearl said. “I think it would be best for both of us if we tried to keep our distance as much as we can.” She was practically whispering, but her face must’ve been right against the door because I could hear her clear enough.

“Oh,” the woman who worked in the store said, coming up from behind me. “Is that your special someone in there, Sir? Well, don’t just stand out here whispering like a bunch of lovesick puppies. Go on in there and help her decide!” She was smiling big like she was doing us a favor as she urged me through the swinging doors.

A moment later, I was standing in front of Pearl, who was clad in a pair of white cotton panties and a matching bra. She put one hand over her breasts and another in front of the triangle of her panties.

“Ah, Jesus,” I said, trying and failing not to eat up the sight of her body. I turned like I was about to leave but she grabbed my arm, holding me in place.

“How is it going to look if you leave now?” she whispered. “Just turn around and don’t gawk.”

“Yeah, sure.” I put my back to Pearl and listened to the sound of rustling fabric. The image of her in her panties and bra kept flashing in my brain, and it took every bit of self control I had not to turn around, bend her over, and rip those panties off. I’d always enjoyed sex, but thinking about sleeping with Pearl was something entirely different. I didn’t just want the feelings and the sensations–the physical parts. I wanted that connection again.

When I was inside her, I felt like the barrier we kept up between us came down. It was the only time I ever really felt that with Pearl, and it was addictive. The memory of it hung over me, just as tempting as it was haunting.

“I was thinking we should decide how to handle things,” I said. “Once this is over, I mean. It’d be better if we had a plan. An official one.”

“Okay,” Pearl said. “Turn around. Do you like this?”

I turned and saw she had on a green dress–a dress that was suspiciously the same shade of green as the one I’d suggested for her back in Asheville. I wondered if that was a coincidence.

It hugged her body with agonizing perfection. The fabric was silky and I could imagine how it would feel to run my hands down the side of her, tracing the shape of her narrow waist and wide hips before I gripped her ample ass, pulling her into me.

Pearl gave me a half smile, cheeks going red. “Um, you’re…” She pointed her eyes briefly down below my belt, then back up to mine.

I was hard as a fucking rock. Of course I was. I licked my lips. “I’d apologize, but you know how I feel about you.”

“Do I?” she asked.

Idiot, I thought. I’d chosen my words poorly. “I mean there’s no denying the physical attraction.”

“But there is denying everything else?” she asked.

She had taken a step closer to me. A dangerous step.

“Everything else would be bad for both of us.”

“You keep saying that. You keep thinking that.” Her eyelashes were long and her lips were full. I could kiss her. I could bend slightly and move my face toward hers. I’d have her lips on mine and everything would feel right for those few moments, even if I knew it wouldn’t last.

“Because it’s true.”

“Why?” she asked. “What would be so bad? Just tell me that, Dean. You keep running from me, but why? What did I do?”

Her voice had started to grow thick and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. I wanted to punch my own face for making her feel this way. “You didn’t do anything,” I said. “Nothing wrong at all. It’s the circumstances. That’s all.”

Pearl nodded, as if she was expecting me to say something like that. “There’s something I wanted to ask you. Just thinking about it makes me feel like I’m going to throw up. I keep telling myself to let it go and to give it up. I keep acting like I’m going to be able to pretend I don’t feel what I feel. But I’m tired of that. I want to put it out there. Dean, I want to be with you.” She took my hands in hers, holding them close to her breasts as she locked her eyes on mine. “I’m tired of pretending. I want this to be real, Dean. You and me. We wouldn’t even have to tell anybody it was ever fake. We could just… start from here.”

Every fiber of my being wanted to nod my head and say I wanted that too. I did. I probably wanted it even more than she did. I also didn’t want to be the next bastard who broke Pearl’s heart.

I thought that maybe I could be different with Pearl–that maybe this time wouldn’t be the same. But, I’d thought of some version of that every time I got into a relationship. It wasn’t like I dated women with intentions of breaking their hearts. Pearl wasn’t like any of them, though. I cared far more about getting it right with her, and that’s why I wasn’t willing to buy my own bullshit. This time, I was going to do the right thing, no matter how much it stung.

“I can’t,” I said. “I’m sorry, Pearl. We need to just keep pretending. A few more days, then I’ll be out of your hair. Then we can both forget about all this.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “That’s what you want? To forget about me?”

I let go of her hands, taking a step back. I ran my hand through the back of my hair, ruffling it in annoyance with myself. All the words I wanted to say were the ones I couldn’t. I care too much to risk hurting you. Making you cry is the last thing I want to do. I’d leave the city behind for you, if you asked me to. I would’ve done anything for her. I knew that, now. But that was why I had to do this. “I want to go back to the way things were,” I said. “Before all of this.”

“Before me,” she corrected. A tear rolled down her cheek, pattering to the floor.

“How is everything fitting in there?” the woman asked.

“Leave us alone!” Pearl snapped.

She turned her focus back on me. “I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Don’t try to talk to me in our room. I think it would be best if we just avoid each other as much as we can from here forward.”

“Alright,” I said.

“You can go,” Pearl said, pointing.

I felt like shit and wanted to say a million things, but I did as she asked. Once I was outside, I balled my fists and slammed them into the brick of the building, not caring when the gritty texture bit into my skin. I leaned my forehead against the wall, breathing hard and pounding the brick again and again.

“Fuck!” I shouted.

I heard a small voice repeat the word back to me, like a childish echo.

I looked up and saw a horrified mother passing behind me with her daughter who must’ve been five or six.

“Sorry, I–”

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” she said, urging her daughter past me, who was now chanting “fuck” in a sing-song voice to the tune of Ring Around The Rosy.

Yeah, I thought. Ashamed was a good word for how I felt. There were other words, but that one was pretty good.

35

PEARL

Steph sat on a park bench beside me with a sympathetic expression on her face. A few kids were playing on the playset in front of us while parents stood off on their own, looking at their phones or just watching their kids. Nobody was paying us any particular attention, which was good, because they would’ve seen I’d been crying if they looked at me for long.

I had just finished explaining everything that happened to Steph, and even my antagonistic sister seemed to realize this wasn’t the situation to pick on me and try to make it worse.

She gave my leg a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Pearl. It took a lot of guts to put yourself out there like that. He’s an asshole for turning you down.”

“Is he, though? I mean I can be mad all I want. But what gives me the right to be mad at a guy for not liking me as much as I like him?”

“Maybe the fact that he slept with you twice?”

“He made it pretty clear those times were just… fun. Dean only ever once said something that made me think maybe he was thinking about dating me. That was before the first time. He said something about how people can change their minds. I thought he meant he was changing his mind about not wanting to date–about me. But that was wishful thinking. Clearly.”

“If a guy puts his cock in my sister, I expect him to at least have the decency to realize how freaking amazing she is.” Steph gave my leg a little pat and leaned in, making me meet her eyes.

“Thank you, but maybe Dean is right. Both of us started this whole thing by swearing off relationships. That’s not exactly a formula for a healthy boyfriend and girlfriend dynamic, you know? It’s like two people meeting at an AA meeting and deciding to go out for drinks after.”

Steph squinted. “I’m not sure it’s like that, but okay.”

“I just mean I wanted to quit the whole dating thing for exactly this reason. I’m so tired of getting hurt.” I felt the emotion welling up in me again and forced it down. “I’m tired of giving parts of myself to people and watching them toss it in the trash. What’s so wrong with me that nobody wants me?”

“Oh, shut up,” Steph’s words were harsh, but her tone was soft. She pulled me in, hugging my head to her chest. “If someone doesn’t want you, that’s a them problem. You’re amazing. You’re smart, talented, and you’re terrified of speaking up for yourself, but you do it anyway, and I’ve always admired that about you.”

“Really?” I asked. It was a stupid question, but I was also an emotional wreck at the moment and any kind of praise was a slight balm to the sting.

“Yes. And somebody not wanting you doesn’t have a damn thing to do with you. It doesn’t mean you should change. It doesn’t mean you should feel bad about yourself. You think chocolate ice cream throws a pity party when some kid orders vanilla? No. It just keeps on being chocolate because the next kid or the next is going to order a scoop. That’s just life, dude.”

I grinned. “Except there was a whole field trip of kids coming through my ice cream shop. They all asked for a sample, ate it up, and then decided they didn’t want any more than that after all.” Tears started to fall again. “And right now, Dean is tossing the little red sample spoon in the trash.”

Steph laughed softly, stroking my hair. “You’re clearly not ready for rational advice right now. We’re in the self-pity phase, and that’s okay. And all this ice cream talk makes me want some. What about you?”

I nodded. “I’m going to pick the one that nobody has taken. The sad little flavor in the corner who keeps getting rejected, no matter how hard she tries.”

“Okay, okay.” Steph shushed me and started to stand. “Let’s go get some ice cream.”

* * *

The sad little flavor nobody wanted was Minty Monkey. It was mint mixed with strawberry ice cream and had chunks of hard candy mixed in. Frankly, it was disgusting, and I could see why I was the first one all day to order a scoop from the untouched bucket of ice cream. The girl behind the counter had even asked me if I was sure.

Yes, I was sure, I’d snapped.

Except, now all I could do was look sadly at my ice cream and think this must be how Dean saw me.

“Stop that,” Steph said. “I can see you’re trying to hurt your own feelings again.”

“I’m not trying. It’s just so easy. I mean, of course he doesn’t want me. I’m Minty Monkey to him. I’m disgusting. I’m a confusing blend of flavors nobody in their right mind should’ve ever put together. And why are the hard candies so hard? Who wants that? I don’t get it.”

Steph gave me a patient smile, then stuck her chocolate cone out toward me. “Want to swap? I’ll eat your Minty Monkey.”

“No. I picked this one and I’m going to stick with it.”

“Maybe we should change the subject a little,” Steph said. “I mean, what are you going to do about the big fake? Are you two going to be able to keep it going in front of everybody after this?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t really talk about it.”

“Because you know we have the rehearsal dinner coming up. And then the wedding night. It’s going to be like four hours of dancing and partying after the wedding. If you two are glaring and cold shouldering each other, people are going to wonder.”

“Let them wonder,” I said, feeling over the whole thing. “Maybe that’s for the best. We can just get it out in the open. Or people can think we broke up for real. That happens to real relationships all the time. Trust me,” I added with a bitter smile.

Steph rolled her eyes and smirked. “Mom would be heartbroken if you two split.”

“We were never together!”

“I know, I know. I just mean if she thought–It’s just that mom is really rooting for you. She hates seeing you get hurt. I do too.”

“I’m not sure I see another option right now. Unless I can miraculously develop skin as hard as diamonds. Men seem to really enjoy hurting me.”

“Dean seems like a good guy. I don’t think he enjoyed it.”

She was right, of course. Dean had looked miserable. I knew it was just wishful thinking, but I’d thought he looked like he was about to take it all back a few times–like he wanted to. But for some reason, he had stopped himself and simply left when I asked him to.

“You know, Lin told me about a job here in town.”

“Lin? Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“She’s a Fairhope local. But she has been working for Harper at The Spot for a while now and she just accepted this job in graphic design for the people over there.”

Stone tower was big enough that all I had to do was nod my head in the direction and Steph could see where I was talking about.

“You’re going to leave Manhattan? Like, actually do it? I know you’ve talked about it, but I didn’t think you were serious.”

“I think it would be the best thing for me. I was trying to decide what to do, and I was going to make my decision once I told Dean how I felt. If he wanted to be with me, I thought maybe I’d stay in Manhattan. Maybe I’d even ask him if he was willing to follow me out here for the job. But now? Now I think I need a fresh start. Just get away from the city all together and try life out here. I mean, it’s nice, right?”

“It’s really nice.” Steph looked out over the scenery with a distant smile. “I’ll miss you, though. Small towns aren’t for me, but I’ll come visit as much as I can.”

“I know you will,” I said. “I’ll come visit, too.”

I hadn’t really resolved anything, but I admittedly felt better after talking to her. Somewhat better, at least. I’d gone from “the world is ending” to “the world sucks” in about an hour, which I thought was a perfectly reasonable timeframe to get my shit together. I also knew which direction I wanted to head in my new, sucky world. That was something.

I still felt like part of me was hollowed out and raw, though. That wasn’t going to go away any time soon, but at least I pulled myself together enough to fake it through the rehearsal dinner and the wedding.

36

PEARL

The rehearsal dinner for Lizzie’s wedding was held in a ritzy building near Stone Tower outside of Fairhope. I’d opted to buy a different dress than the green one I had on when Dean came into my dressing room–that one felt like it would just carry the ghost of our encounter with it, and I wanted no part of that.

I had on a yellow dress that I hoped blurred the appropriate line between casual and elegant, which was what Lizzie wanted everybody to wear. The neckline was high and aggressive, but the back of the dress plunged all the way down to my lower back. Okay, maybe it was more on the formal than casual side. Sue me.

A petty part of me wanted to get Dean’s attention, even though I knew that was backwards. He’d made his mind up, and convincing him he was missing out wasn’t going to change it.

For the past two days, I felt like I was doing my best impression of a burglar. I crept toward corners, listening before emerging in case I might run into him. I got to bed as early as I could and pulled the blankets practically over my head.

To his credit, Dean seemed to understand I wanted nothing to do with him and hadn’t made any attempts to talk to me. He came in quietly to the room, usually late at night, showered, and got into his bed without a word. He didn’t even turn the lights on, which resulted in the mildly hilarious number of times he bumped into things on the way to his bed from the bathroom.

But now the avoiding game was over, because we both had to be on our best boyfriend and girlfriend behavior. If it wasn’t for not wanting to spoil Lizzie’s wedding with relationship drama and not wanting to let my mom down, I would’ve just told everyone we split up to save ourselves the trouble. Now that I knew I was planning to leave Pollard Marketing anyway, the threat of being fired had lost its sting.

I still needed to tell Marley about that, and it was a conversation I wasn’t looking forward to.

Dean hooked his arm through mine as we headed in from the parking lot to the big building. It was some sort of fancy hotel, I realized, and we followed signs for the reception dinner to a moodily lit dining room through the lobby. Based on the signs, it was a very fancy restaurant that Jonas Pollard had apparently bought out for our evening. Shocker.

“You doing alright?” Dean asked through the side of his mouth as we headed in. We weren’t exactly early, which meant everybody was already talking and chatting with enthusiasm and hadn’t noticed us enter yet. There were several tables spread around the room with drinks set out, but at the moment, people were just walking around and talking to each other.

“I’m perfect,” I said with a little more venom than I intended.

“Look, Pearl, I really am sorry about–”

“I don’t want your apology, okay? It feels like pity, and the last thing I want is your pity. Let’s just get through this. Can we do that?”

Dean hesitated. “Yeah. Are you alright with the anxiety thing?”

“Don’t play hero. I managed without you before all this and I’ll manage now. Worry about yourself.” Part of me hated how mean I was being to him. I didn’t think I realized how much anger and resentment I felt until I actually spoke to Dean. The last real conversation we’d had was in that fitting room where I felt like I bared my soul for him. Talking to Steph, I had said the things I thought I should say. I didn’t blame him. You can’t force someone to love you. Dean never misled me.

But the truth? The truth was I didn’t buy any of that. I’d felt a connection with Dean more times than I could count. I didn’t believe a connection like that could be one-sided. So, yeah, I was angry. I was angry at him because I thought he was being too much of a coward to admit he felt something for me, too. He was hiding from his feelings, even after I’d taken the hardest step and been open with him first.

Dean and I found an open place at one of the tables and sat. There was a bottle of wine. He made no move to touch it or pour himself a drink. I, on the other hand, planned to enjoy myself as much as I could. More accurately, I planned to numb myself. Being around Dean after everything I’d put on the table was too much.

I poured a large glass of wine, tipped it to Dean, and started drinking.

The look he gave me was full of concern, which only made me want to drink more.

He was acting like I was some wounded puppy he’d kicked. But, instead of simply kicking me and leaving the room, he was lingering to try to nurse me back to health–to rebuild my trust. It pissed me off, and I planned to drink wine until it didn’t piss me off so much.

While we sat, Jonas and Lizzie came back to say “hi”. I was friendly enough, thanked them for the hospitality, and wished them good luck for tomorrow. A few other members of my family and extended family came back to talk to us, and nobody stayed for very long. Maybe it was the “fuck the world” vibe I was apparently rocking tonight.

Once I’d made my way through a significant portion of the wine bottle on my own, Curtis and Lane stopped by our table. Curtis hooked his thumbs in his suspenders, smiling wide. “Hey lovebirds.” Then he shot Dean a hard look. “You treatin’ our cousin right?”

“Trying to,” Dean said.

“Tryin’ is what you do to a buttered biscuit at a two star buffet,” Lane said. There was an edge of warning in his voice. “You better get to doin’ with our cousin.”

“You want me to do your cousin?” Dean asked.

“He ain’t meant it like that,” Curtis said, putting a hand on Lane’s chest to stop him from interjecting and probably making things more awkward. Curtis apparently wanted to handle that part all by himself. “What he meant is you two look like you had some kind of fight.” When he said “fight”, it came out more like “Faaht”. “Ya’ll need to kiss and make up. And give ‘er some tongue. You know what we say in the hills? Kissin’ without tongue is for your sister.”

Lane punched him. “Ain’t nobody says that! There you go again, penetratin’ stereotypes.”

“I really don’t think now is the best time for kissing,” Dean said.

“No?” I asked. Unfortunately, I was a lightweight, and the wine was already clouding my judgment, which hadn’t started off that great to begin with. “You won’t kiss your own girlfriend?”

Dean met my eyes, silently trying to urge me to back down.

“Kiss me,” I dared.

Dean’s jaw ticked two times.

“What’s going on?” my mom asked. Grandma Bobo was beside her with a plate of appetizers.

Curtis answered for us. “Dean and Pearl had a little cat fight, so we told them to kiss and make up. I think Dean’s still madder than Granny when her teeth fell in the shitter after Paw Paw Curtis’ taco night. We’re waiting to see if he’ll gather up his balls and do it.”

“I think this is something Pearl and I should handle in private. That’s all,” Dean said

“If you don’t kiss me, everyone is going to think you don’t want to kiss your own girlfriend, Dean.”

Almost reluctantly, he put his hand on my cheek and leaned in, kissing me softly. It was a tame kiss and I could feel none of the usual spark in it. That pissed me off, too, so I took him by the hair and kissed him back harder, sliding my tongue into his mouth.

Curtis whooped with approval and Lane let out a long, whistling sheeee sound.

“Get him, girl!” my mom said, laughing.

Grandma Bobo just made some heavy breathing sounds, which was decidedly creepy.

When I pulled back, I saw the look on Dean’s face and instantly felt like shit about myself. In my current state, feeling like shit only made me more upset, though. I got up, started to leave, then turned back around and picked up what was left of the wine. I lifted it at Dean and smiled. “I think I’ll take this with me.”

“Pearl,” he said, getting up to follow me.

I walked out of the restaurant area and into the hallway outside, bottle of wine in hand. I’d left my shoes under the table, I realized, but didn’t particularly care.

“What has gotten into you?” Dean asked once we were outside and alone again.

“Let’s see. I told myself I was done letting guys have power over me, because that always leads to me getting hurt. Then, I stupidly went and gave you power over me and what did you do? Surprise! You hurt me with it. So, sorry if I’m feeling a little bitter right now. My sister is about to get married to the guy of her dreams and I’m supposed to pretend to be with the guy who just tore my heart out.”

“Pearl…” Dean’s voice was raspy and soft. “I didn’t want it to go this way.”

“Well, it did, didn’t it? I guess we both just have to deal with the consequences.”

I lifted the wine bottle towards my mouth but Dean tried to stop me. “You really should go easy on that stuff. At least until the dinner is over. People are going to–”

“Let go,” I said, yanking it free. But the motion made wine slop over the top of the bottle and splash all over my dress. I let my arms hang at my side, looking down at the yellow dress I’d just bought that was now spattered with red wine. “There’s wine on my boob,” I said.

Dean sighed and took the bottle from me, setting it on the carpet beside us. “Come on. We should just go back to our room. Nobody will miss us.”

“My sister will notice I’m gone.” Most of the fight was draining out of me. I’d been acting like a child throwing a tantrum and I knew that. I just couldn’t quite make myself stop once I’d started. Maybe acting out and embarrassing myself felt better than dwelling on my reality. Who knew?

“I’ll go in there and make an excuse for you. I can say you aren’t feeling well.”

“I’m supposed to give a speech.”

“Do you think you’re going to give a good speech right now?” Dean asked.

I couldn’t help laughing a little. “Actually, no. I think I might go on a rant about how men suck and we should use their penises to feed the hungry.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “You want to put penises in hungry people’s mouths? Please don’t ever run for a government office.”

I covered my eyes, letting out a sound somewhere between laughing and crying.

I didn’t want his hands on me, but Dean wrapped me in a hug anyway, and I let him.

“Wait here just a minute. I’ll go and make an excuse for us, then we’ll go to the room. You can continue ignoring me once we’re there.”

“Okay,” I said weakly. Once I was by myself, I could finally feel just how much the wine was getting to me. Little bits and pieces of how I’d acted came drifting back. I wished I could rewind time an hour or so, then knock that stupid bottle out of my hand. I’d been feeling like shit before, but numbing the pain wasn’t worth how much I’d just mortified myself in front of my entire family.

Dean came back a few minutes later. “We’re good. Everybody understands. Come on.”

“You should stay. I’ll just go back on my own. I’m sorry for ruining your night, Dean. I just…”

“Hey,” he said, taking my hands. “Don’t apologize for anything. I deserve all that and more. I get it. But I’m also not letting you go back to our room on your own. Did you forget we’re at Stone Tower? You don’t have keys to my car and you’re not driving. You’re definitely not walking miles back to Fairhope. Not like this, especially.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I guess we are far away. You can just drop me off, then. Come back and enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Come on,” Dean said. He put a hand on the small of my back and led me out of the hotel, to the car, and got us on the road.

37

DEAN

I’d seen Pearl tipsy twice now. Actually, both times, I’d been a little tipsy myself and we’d wound up sleeping together. But this was my first time seeing her truly drunk.

I had to half-carry her into the Ashford Inn, where Gabby was sitting at the desk with a paperback.

“She needs to sleep this off, but she’s okay,” I said.

Gabby showed a sympathetic smile and watched us head up the stairs.

I got Pearl into our room, pulled off her shoes, and set her down on the bed. Walter wagged his tail, licking at both of us and yipping as he ran excited sprints around the room.

Pearl draped an arm over her eyes, smiling and laughing about something.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Are we going to have sex again?” She was slurring her words so badly that “sex” sounded more like “shecks.”

“No, Pearl. You need to sleep.”

“Really?” She made a kissy face, then burped, covering her mouth. “Because you always seem to want to fuck me, Dean. But you don’t want to keep me, do you?” She laughed a little at that, eyes still closed. “Fuck her. Then, fuck her. Right?”

“I think this conversation would be more productive tomorrow once you’re feeling yourself again.”

“Why don’t you love me back, Dean?” she asked. Now her eyes were filling up with tears and she’d curled up, hugging one of the pillows.

Dammit. I knew the smart thing was to shush her and try to get her to fall asleep. But she was so far gone I doubted she was going to remember much of anything from tonight, so I thought maybe this would be my only chance to really speak my mind to her.

I sat beside her on the bed, stroking her hair as she lay curled up with her back to me. “I do care about you. More than you realize. Way more than you realize,” I said, laughing a little. “You know, I used to think the idea of love was bullshit. Something you tell your mom to make her happy. Something your girlfriends eventually want you to say because it is a symbol of how committed you are. But, the actual idea of caring that much about somebody? Caring so much you’d sacrifice everything you care about for them? I thought that was bullshit.”

“Used to?” Pearl asked. She rolled over and laid her head on my lap, eyes blinking heavily.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Used to. Until I met you. And now I’m pushing away the best thing that might ever happen to me because I’m worried I’ll wind up breaking her if I keep her.”

“Wow. Sounds like some girl,” Pearl was drooling on my leg.

I grinned down at her, fingertips sliding along her scalp. “Yeah,” I agreed. “She really is.”

38

PEARL

It was never my plan to be hungover for my sister’s wedding. But that was kind of the thing about bad decisions. Bad decisions were notorious for also coming with a chronic lack of consideration for future consequences.

I had on my bridesmaid’s dress, which was a pastel pink with all sorts of cutesy little bows and ribbons. Lizzie’s people were doing my makeup and hair and the sun had barely risen. My head felt like it was hosting a toddler trying to teach itself to play the drums with golf clubs.

Steph gave me a look, then laughed. “Somebody had a little too much last night, I heard.”

I lifted my middle finger to her. She was Lizzie’s only other bridesmaid. I still couldn’t decide if it was sad or sweet that my sister didn’t have any friends good enough to join our ranks. Or maybe she just cared that much about her sisters.

I glanced at her and laughed, despite the thumping in my head. “I don’t think I can remember the last time I saw you in pink. You look adorable.”

Now it was Steph’s turn to give me her middle finger. “Stuff it.”

We chatted off and on for the hour or so that we were getting done up. I never once mentioned all the things going on in my head about Dean, though. I didn’t even mention the painful dream I’d had last night. I couldn’t remember all of it, but the scraps made me pretty sure Dean had sat down and confessed he really did love me, but he was trying to break things off for my own good. I couldn’t remember what Dream Dean had thought was the grand reason I was better off without him. Either way, even the memory stung.

Why couldn’t real guys be more like the ones in my dreams? Was that so much to ask?

We stopped by Harper’s restaurant in the Ashford Inn once we were finished getting ready. Our task was to make sure everything was going okay and to taste test some of the treats we’d be having before dinner.

Harper served us some crab meat wontons first, which I thought was a somewhat strange choice for an appetizer, considering the main course was French. They were crunchy, creamy, and delicious. She’d even whipped up her own dipping sauce that had a tangy bite, which was the perfect compliment.

“You doing alright?” Harper asked me once we’d worked our way through the taste tests for Lizzie. “I heard about last night.”

Steph snorted. “Whatever you heard wasn’t as embarrassing or awkward as the real thing. Trust me on that.”

I swatted at her. “Fine. Just a headache,” I said.

“Here,” Harper said. “Let me grab you something.”

A minute later, she came back with a steaming chunk of bread and a to-go cup filled with ice water. “Try to get these down. I doubt it’ll cure you, but it might help.”

“Thanks,” I said.

After Harper’s, we were on to the venue itself. Lizzie had given us a checklist of items to go over with Mom and Dad once we arrived. My mom gave me a painful look that said she was both ashamed of how I’d acted last night but sympathetic of my feelings enough to not bring it up. At least she wasn’t going to confront me about it on Lizzie’s wedding day. Small victories.

We ran through all the items, making sure the centerpieces on the tables were all the correct shades of cream and purple–not violet, which was a point Lizzie had been adamant about. We were told to spray the vine wall with water, which was odd, but we did it anyway. We even had to go to the nearby stables to make sure the owner of the farm where Lizzie’s wedding was being held would have his horses out of range for the ceremony.

I knew Lizzie had personally checked everything she could multiple times already, but she was going to be getting beautified and dolled up all morning, and we were acting as her proxies. I was fine with it. I loved my sister, even if I was usually a little jealous of her and sometimes found her constant perfection exhausting. I wanted her wedding to be amazing. For that reason, I felt extra shitty about how I’d acted last night.

I decided it was my one moment of weakness. I’d gotten that out of my system, and now I was going to act like a normal adult. I’d sit with Dean during the ceremony. I’d even dance with him after dinner, if it came to that. I’d play nice all day until Lizzie headed off with Jonas to end the night. After that, I could cut ties with Dean and call this whole mess finished. Sure, I was going to be thinking about him for God only knew how long, but at least all the questions would be settled. It would just be over, and that was for the best.

I ran into Curtis and Lane when I was heading back to the venue from the barn. Steph had headed back early while I waited for the farmer to show me where he was taking the horses so I could ensure it was far enough away.

Curtis was sprinkling flower petals on the grass around the perimeter of the area where the main tent and wedding arch had been set up. The original plan was to have everybody inside a big barn, but there was some kind of bat problem that called for a last-minute change of plans. Now we would all sit in a huge, gauzy white tent decked out with flowers that matched the purple and cream theme. Lizzie, Jonas, and the Priest would be situated under an elaborate but beautiful arch just in front of the tent at the end of a multi-colored pathway of fresh flower petals.

“You alright?” Curtis asked. “I ain’t seen someone get hammered that fast since Uncle Curtis made his first batch of homemade moonshine.”

“Well,” Lane said. “There was the time Grandpa Curtis hit Daddy Curtis with the hammer. I reckon that was textically a faster hammerin’.”

Curtis turned slowly, giving Lane a look. Then they both burst into hitching laughter, hands on their thighs.

I smiled at the two of them. My memories with Curtis and Lane went way back to family reunions out at their farm. They always made sure none of the other boys were too rough with me and treated me nice. I remembered they’d always sneak me into Grandpa Curtis’ garage and get me popsicles before all the other kids could have any.

“I’m okay,” I said. “It was just a rough night for me. And I’m still feeling it this morning.”

“Shee,” Lane said. His tone was solemn.

I still remembered the first time I’d heard them use that ridiculous word. The two of them had almost exclusively communicated with it at times. Depending on the inflection, it seemed like it could be a declaration of surprise, sorrow, agreement, or even disagreement. I was also fairly sure the two brothers had made it up themselves, because I hadn’t heard any of our other friends or family from Alabama use it.

“I should go,” I said. “I’m supposed to meet up with Dean so we can head to the ceremony together.”

“He treatin’ you right?” Curtis asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s totally fine. I was just being stupid last night.”

“Ain’t stupid to feel,” Lane said.

Curtis and I both gave him a somewhat surprised look. Lane wasn’t exactly known for his depth.

“Thank you. I’m fine. Really. I’ll let you two know if I need anything, okay?”

“Damn right you will,” Curtis said.

“Shee,” Lane agreed.

39

PEARL

“Speech, speech, speech!” Everybody at the reception was chanting and looking my way. Steph had just given a sarcastic but hilarious speech and now, apparently, it was my turn.

Lizzie and Jonas were sitting together at their little table, both smiling and absolutely glowing. It was a little weird to think my sister was officially married–Lizzie Pollard, as strange as that was.

I’d made it through most of the ceremony without saying more than single word sentences to Dean, who didn’t seem to be in a rush to talk to me, either. He was sitting beside me now and he gave my hand a subtle squeeze under the table.

I hated how much it reassured me, but the inner voice currently freaking out about giving a speech did calm a little bit.

I smiled, then stood up and raised my glass–it was water. I’d sworn off alcohol for the foreseeable future.

It took a moment for everybody to calm down and get quiet so I could speak. I looked around the room and saw my parents, my cousins, Grandma Bobo, and even several people I recognized from town who were working various jobs for the wedding. All of my co-workers were here now, too. I’d caught up with Marley before the bride and groom arrived at the reception, which we were holding in the same beautiful dining room at Stone Tower where we’d done the rehearsal dinner. I even apologized and told her the truth about me and Dean. I knew I’d held her in the dark this long to spare her if I ever got caught, but I was over all of it. I just wanted the truth out there to anybody I could afford to tell, especially my only real work friend.

“Um,” I said, once the room was quiet. “I wanted to say how glad I am that we’re all here. And how awesome it is that my sister did me the favor of making my boss my brother-in-law, because now he’ll have a much harder time firing me when I ask for next week off.”

There was a ripple of laughter through the room. I smiled a little, feeling the nerves settle some. “And I also wanted you to know, Lizzie, that I think you did an awesome job. It’s not easy to love somebody. It’s hard, and it’s scary, and it can hurt if it goes wrong. So I think what you two are doing is probably the bravest thing. And I’m really proud of you for it.”

Lizzie put her hands over her heart and gave me a sappy smile.

“Oh, and I also wanted to formally suggest that since you two will be gone on your honeymoon for a week, Jonas could give all of us the week off.”

There was cheering from my co-workers and laughter from everyone else. Jonas looked like he was actually considering it, and Lizzie whispered something to him.

“Granted!” he shouted.

The cheering doubled, and I was smiling right along with everyone else until Alec Pollard stood up.

“I’d like to say something, if that’s alright,” he said.

Jonas shrugged and someone took the mic from me and walked it over to Alec.

Everyone grew quieter. The man just had an aura about him that made me feel like we’d reached the part in the movie where the bad guy announces he has put a bomb under everyone’s table and he has also been cleaning the toilets with our toothbrushes all week.

“I wanted to say that trust is critical. Paramount, actually, to a successful business. And business, at its essence, is a relationship. A business built on false truths is a business doomed to fail. And a business partner formed through lies is a partner better left behind.”

“I ain’t heard this Dr. Seuss book, but it sucks!” Lane shouted. There was a quick and subdued round of country-flavored laughter.

There was some murmuring and clear confusion. Jonas got to his feet and started walking toward Alec like he was going to take the little cordless microphone away from him.

“That’s why I think it’s important we all know Pearl and Dean have been lying to all of us. For reasons I don’t understand–”

There was loud, angry murmuring. Maxwell Pollard got to his feet and shouted, “Enough, Alec! This is hardly the time.”

“This is exactly the time,” Alec said, holding Jonas at bay. “For months, I’ve been trying to talk sense into the two of you. Maxwell, you’ve been enamored by that man so fully that you can’t see reason anymore. Jonas, you’ve been half-assing your duty ever since you met that woman. This is our company. Our vision. Our dream. And you’re both letting it slip away, no matter how many times I’ve tried to bring it up. So I decided to get your attention once and for all.” He spread his arms, looking around the room at everyone who was glaring at him like the 90’s movie bad guy I’d known he was from the moment I saw him. “I don’t know why Dean and Pearl they’ve been lying to all of us, but I assure you, they have. You’ll find a printed copy of a text conversation between the two of them from six months ago. I’ve taken the liberty of posting it near the front doors, for anyone curious. They clearly admit…”

The chaos of Jonas and Maxwell taking the microphone from Alec and whatever he was shouting were drowned out as I joined a few people moving to the entrance. Jonas was yelling about the outrage of Alec trying to ruin his wedding with his “petty drama”. Maxwell was shouting, too, but I couldn’t make out what the words were. Most of the guests didn’t seem to care about the revelation that my relationship to Dean was fake. Hardly anyone was stopping to look at the papers hung on the wall, but I knew a handful of people would care, and those handful would be deeply hurt.

I went to look at the papers Alec had hung up, stomach dropping.

I saw several pieces of paper pinned to a notice board there with a copy of our text conversation printed. One line was highlighted. It read “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure nobody doubts we’re head over heels. We’re going to fake the shit out of this.”

Dean had saved himself in my phone as “Sweet Cheeks,” but I kept everyone in my contacts by their full names and had changed it to “Dean Slater” a few days later.

It felt like the world was spinning around me. I dreaded it, but I slid my gaze to Lizzie, who looked like she was on the verge of tears.

Dean came up beside me, taking my arm. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You know, we could just claim he faked this. It wouldn’t be hard at all.”

“He ruined everything,” I said. Even if we tried to argue it was fake, the damage was done. There was no point. “I don’t think all these people leaving even care about us. It’s just the way he announced it all. He took her day away, and we gave him the excuse to get up there and do it.”

The room was in an uproar. Curtis and Lane were helping to shove Alec out the front with Maxwell and Jonas. If anything, I felt a slight touch of relief that the most anger in the room was directed at Alec, who had deliberately timed this to spoil Lizzie and Jonas’ wedding.

My mom and dad came up to me, eyes wide. My mom took my hands. “Just tell me, Sweetie. He’s lying, right?”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, voice thick with emotion. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep lying.

My mom looked uncharacteristically speechless. She let go of my hands, nodded slowly, and walked away with a look of disappointment that broke my heart. My dad gave me a pat on the shoulder and followed after her.

Lizzie was by herself at her little table in the center of the room, dabbing at her eyes and trying not to ruin her makeup, probably.

“Why would he do that?” I asked.

“Alec has been worried about my influence on his brother for months,” Dean said. “He thinks I’m advising him to take the company in the wrong direction. This wasn’t about you or your sister. It was about me. He wants Maxwell to end his contract with me and go back to listening to Alec about how to run things. I just didn’t imagine he’d take it this far.”

“You didn’t think to tell me any of this?” I asked. “We were supposed to be a team. I could’ve helped. If I’d known, I could’ve… I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry, Pearl. I’d seen hints of it, but nothing to make me think he’d do this. And I didn’t want you to worry.”

“How the hell did he get that text?” I asked. I had a thousand questions, but only one could spill out at a time. Distantly, I sensed the attention of the room was about to turn on us again and I wasn’t sure what would happen then.

“Do you still have no passcode on your phone?”

“I don’t have one, but–”

“He must’ve got his hands on it at some point. Last night, maybe. When we were out in the hallway, you left your stuff at the table. Shoes and your bag and your phone right there in the open. I didn’t think about it, but I grabbed your things when I went back to make excuses for us. Maybe he snooped your messages then? Sent them to himself or something?”

I pinched my nose, wishing I could just scream.

“Hold on,” I said. “I need to do something.”

I found the microphone they’d taken from Alec and tapped it a few times. Everyone in the room went silent and looked my way.

“I need to tell all of you I’m so, so sorry. Especially you, Lizzie. What Alec said was true. Dean and I never wanted to trick anyone. We both just wanted space from dating and the idea seemed harmless at the time. Then the conference happened and we realized we’d both be here. Then there was the wedding. Once I knew, it felt too late to call the fake relationship off. I was worried it’d ruin Lizzie’s wedding week or that she’d have to start worrying if I was okay when she should be focused on enjoying her day. And…” I trailed off when Lizzie got up, dress bunched in her fists. She stormed out the front and Jonas went after her. My mom and dad shot me a look that hurt right down to my soul, then went out the front as well.

I hung my head and let the microphone fall with an amplified “thump” and a whine of feedback.

“Shee,” Curtis said softly. “I ain’t seen drama like this since Aunt Martha told Cousin Curtis those nuts he likes to snack on by her sittin’ chair is really the insides of peanut M&M’s after she sucks off the hard shell, cause her teeth can’t handle the–”

Lane gave him a whack that shut him up.

Marley came up to me, her expression somewhere between smiling and wincing. “Well, you didn’t screw everything up. You got us that week off. So… yay?”

People were starting to filter out of the room, even though I knew the plan had been for dancing and music to go on for several more hours. I felt like the worst person on Earth. I picked up the microphone. “Guys, please stay. I’m sure Lizzie and Jonas are going to come back. I’ll leave. You don’t have to.”

Dean came to my side and took the microphone. “At midnight, I’ll give twenty grand to two random winners. You’ve got to be here to collect.”

My words hadn’t done anything to stem the tide of leaving guests, but Dean’s got turned heads. Several people came back in from outside, looking around to see if they’d heard him right.

“Yep. That’s right. I’ll give two blank checks to Steph. She’ll hand them out at midnight. Write your name on a piece of paper and drop it on the table by the cake. If you’re not here when the names are called, she’ll call someone else. Oh, and if you don’t look like you’re having fun, Steph will disqualify you.”

There was a little confused clapping, but it seemed like many of the people who had been about to leave to spare themselves the awkwardness would stay. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Yeah,” Dean said.

We left together. I saw Lizzie, Jonas, Alec, Maxwell, and my parents all in a group in the lobby of the hotel. They were arguing and talking fast. I considered going over and trying to apologize, but I had a feeling this was the sort of screw up that needed time. If I went over there right now, I’d just make it worse.

Dean gave me a look and I shook my head. “Let’s just go.”

He nodded.

When we got back to our room, Dean started packing his things.

“You’re leaving?” I asked.

“Yeah. I think the sooner I’m out of here, the sooner this will all blow over.”

I considered asking him if he thought his contract with the Pollards would be done because of this, but I was still mad at him. Mad because he’d turned me down. Mad because he’d shown me enough to make me believe he cared about me like I cared about him, but he was too scared to admit it. Mad because he hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me Alec Pollard was breathing down his neck and looking for a way to sabotage us.

So I said nothing while he packed.

“Will you be able to get back on your own?” Dean asked, suitcase in hand. He still had on his suit from the reception. “I can arrange to have a plane here by morning if there aren’t any tickets available. Or I could have a car come and–”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “I took a job here in town. I interviewed yesterday over the phone. They are pretty desperate for people and I have more than enough experience.” I gave a tight smile. “You’re looking at the newest graphic designer for Stone Tower’s foreign marketing department. I start next week.”

Dean didn’t seem to know what to say at first. He raked a hand through his hair only for it to fall messily back in front of his eyes again. “Congratulations,” he said.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“I’m happy for you, Pearl. You’re chasing your dream.”

I laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Right now, it feels more like I’m running away from everybody I just screwed over with my tail between my legs. I’m not sure they’ll ever forgive me for this.”

“It’ll be fine. People were going back into the room. I don’t think anyone even left. Lizzie will cheer up, they’ll see we’re gone, and they’ll get back to dancing, having fun, and eating cake. Trust me, they’ll all get over it. And if they don’t, blame it all on me.”

I crossed my arms. “I plan to.”

He smiled a little sadly, then came up to me and planted a kiss on top of my head. “This is goodbye, I guess. And it’s like I told you, isn’t it? Every relationship I touch ends in flames.” Dean gestured around us like he could practically see the flames licking up the walls. “Wish I could say I was surprised.”

“Bye, Dean.”

“Hey,” he said. “Can you just promise me one thing?”

“What?” I asked.

“If you decide you need a fake boyfriend to keep everyone off your back after this, you’ll call me first, right?”

It was supposed to be a joke, but it didn’t seem particularly funny at the moment. Still, playing along was easier than arguing. “Sure. You’ll be the first,” I said.

He pursed his lips in a soft smile, gave me one last look, then left the room.

When the door clicked shut behind him, I sank down onto the bed. I laid on top of the covers for a long while just staring up at the ceiling, trying to wrap my head around how quickly everything had gone wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on any specific moment. I just knew none of it was ever supposed to happen like this.

40

PEARL

THREE MONTHS LATER

I thanked Mr. McDermit and left his general store with a bag of odds and ends. I had a short walk to my apartment, which happened to be just across the street from the Ashford Inn where I’d stayed that week of the wedding. It all seemed so long ago already, except for the empty spot where my feelings for Dean had been. That spot was still hollowed out and raw. Most days, I managed to not even think about it, but when my thoughts did drift in his direction, it still hurt like it was only yesterday.

I sighed and tried to shift my focus. After all, things weren’t so bad. Steph was in town to visit with Lizzie, and we were about to watch some movie where Sandra Bullock plays a romance writer who winds up on a misguided adventure with her cover model. I’d picked up popcorn, snacks, and sodas for all of us. My hiatus from alcohol was still in full swing.

I came into my small apartment and found Lizzie and Steph on the couch with the phones out.

“Hey,” Lizzie said. “Did they have Sour Patch Kids?”

“It’s a small town,” I said. “Not some post-apocalyptic outpost.” I pulled the bag of candy out and lobbed it at her.

She smiled. “Mmm.” Since her weddinhg, Lizzie had finally started eating more normal foods. She was still in amazing shape, of course, and she still exercised like her life depended on it. But in general, it seemed like my sister had loosened up a bit. She was much easier to get along with now.

“How many of these movie nights need to be Pearl’s treat before you forgive her for dropping a nuclear bomb on your wedding night?”

Lizzie grinned. “Two or three, I think. But I don’t know if Mom is ever going to fully recover. She still gets a haunted look when we talk about the wedding week.”

I grimaced. “Really? When I call her, she acts like it’s all water under the bridge.”

“That’s because she doesn’t want you to feel bad,” Steph said. “You know how Mom is. Everybody else’s feelings first. I think she’s not going to fully get over it until you finally get another boyfriend. Maybe even until you get married.”

“I don’t see how those two things are connected.” I screwed the cap off my soda and took a bubbly sip.

“You’ve got to provide her with a non-disastrous wedding. You screwed one up, so she needs a substitute.

I rolled my eyes. “Well, I’m sorry, but my future holds no weddings. I have a new job I like. A new town I love. New work friends. I’ve made myself a nice little life out here, and it doesn’t feel any worse without a guy to share my bed with.”

“Is she trying to say she’s playing for the other team, now?” Lizzie asked.

“No,” I laughed. “I just mean I can be a complete person without someone else. It’s possible, you know.”

“You can’t give yourself oral, though,” Lizzie noted with a sly look.

“Pearl has always been kind of flexible,” Steph said, eyes narrowed. “Maybe that’s what it is. She can and that’s why she thinks giving up men is so easy.”

“Gross,” I said. “I just mean I’m not in a hurry, okay? Every time I’ve come anywhere near relationships, it has blown up on me like a bomb. I’m not exactly looking to poke that with a stick any time soon.”

“I still can’t believe it was fake between you and Dean,” Lizzie said. “You two were so cute together. Like, there really weren’t any feelings there?”

I hesitated. Steph knew the full truth, but I hadn’t really gone that deep with Lizzie yet. I wasn’t sure I wanted to, either. “It’s over now,” I said simply.

Steph gave me a look, which I ignored.

“Has he reached out to you at all?” Steph asked.

“I’m not sure. I blocked his number.”

Steph’s eyebrows shot up. “Damn. Harsh.”

I shrugged. “I’m not interested in hearing him apologize weeks later and string me along again. We needed a clean break. That’s what we got.”

Lizzie pursed her lips in thought. “It’s still sad. You guys definitely had chemistry. I wonder how it would’ve gone if you two started off for real instead of pretending.”

“No point wondering.” I was done with the conversation, so I picked up the remote and turned on the TV, cranking the volume up. My sisters both gave me a concerned look, but I handed them their drinks and took my spot on the couch. I started the movie and tried my best to let it distract me from thoughts about Dean.

I wondered when it would stop feeling so damn fresh when it came to him. When could I just move on? Really move on?

A little voice in my head whispered that time was “never”. I hoped it was wrong.

41

DEAN

One of the problems with having ungodly amounts of money was that I never really had to work. When the Pollards terminated my contract over the whole mess with Pearl and our fake relationship, I should’ve gone hunting for new clients.

I still had some contracts. I worked with a dog food company and their CEO on an “as needed” basis, which worked out to one or two meetings a month at most. Then there was the woman who was trying to start a winery and could only afford to do an occasional zoom call with me. There were little gigs like that, but I didn’t have anything as involved as my time at Pollard had been. I knew I could’ve gone out and advertised myself if I wanted, but my heart wasn’t in it.

I figured it would take a week or two when I got back to Manhattan. I’d probably mope around a little because I knew I’d let the one get away. I’d feel sorry for myself. Get pissed. Maybe do something stupid. But I thought a week or two would be it.

Instead, it had been more like three months. About a month ago, Pierce visited and tried his best to cheer me up. He took me around town to the clubs and bars. He tried his damndest to set me up with every pretty girl we came across because he thought it would improve my mood. I found I wanted none of it. I didn’t even flirt with them. All I wanted was to get back home. Then Damon came a few weeks after that and it was mostly the same. Nights out, drinks, and his failed attempts to get me back on the dating scene.

Every night, I found myself thinking back to the good times with Pearl. I liked remembering our time on stage when she’d humped me to pop balloons between my legs, or when we’d first met and she was so upset she barfed on me. I thought about the fun we’d had on our road trip over to Colorado from Asheville and the way she’d lit up when she talked about her dream to leave the city behind, or the moment I’d actually told her how I really felt in our room at the Ashford Inn when she was blackout drunk.

It did make me happy to know she’d chased her dream. I struck up a contact with her friend from Pollard, Marley, who had been keeping me posted on Pearl. I learned she’d blocked me, so I had to resort to proxies to get my information.

A few times, I’d nearly flown out there just to get eyes on her, but I knew that wasn’t the right move. I’d already put both of us through so much shit because I was doing what I believed was right. I was saving her from me. I was letting her establish some kind of life where she wouldn’t have the dangling threat of me fucking things up looming over her head.

But I wasn’t sure doing the right thing had ever felt so shitty.

Walter had grown quite a bit, but he still thought he was bite-sized. He walked on my lap and circled for a hilarious amount of time, then finally plopped down in a little ball. He sighed dramatically, as if his day had been hard.

I scratched behind his ears. “Me too, Bud. Except it has been the last three months, not just today.”

I jumped when someone knocked at my door.

I wasn’t expecting anyone. Pierce and Damon were overseas at the moment on business, and my dad sure as hell never visited. Would it be Laney? But she was supposed to be in school. She wouldn’t have time to visit.

A stupid, hopeful part of me thought maybe it was Pearl. Maybe she’d flown out here to come ask me one more time to reconsider. I knew I’d be too damn weak to say “no” if she did. I’d drag her inside and never let her go again.

When I opened the door, I saw my little sister standing there with a six-pack of beers. She lifted them, smiled, and raised her eyebrows. “You won’t tell me anything when I call, so I decided to pull out the big guns.”

“Fuck, Laney. You’re supposed to be at school. What are you doing here?”

“Checking on my big brother because he’s not doing well, even if he won’t admit it.”

I sighed and waved my hand for her to come in.

Laney was short, but not quite as short as Pearl. She had long brown hair she usually kept in elaborate braids. Her big eyes, bright smile, and inviting personality meant I was always having to keep an eye out for her. Boys were constantly coming around when she was younger, and now I just got bits and pieces of what she was willing to tell me. Usually, it was me looking out for her. The idea that she’d come to check on me felt backwards and strange.

Walter wagged his tail and sniffed at her. She knelt, scratching him and sweet talking him while he tried to lick her mouth. “I heard about you, big boy! You are just so freaking cute, aren’t you? Yes you are! Yes you are!”

“Easy,” I said. “You’re going to inflate his ego. He already thinks he’s the shit.”

“Because you are, aren’t you?”

Walter was lapping up the attention. His tail and his butt were wagging and he kept doing tiptoes around Laney, tongue flicking out and eyes adoringly pointed up. She always seemed to charm animals, ever since we were kids.

“I wanted to make a good first impression,” she said to Walter. “So I brought you something.” She pulled out a hilariously large dog bone from her bag and handed it to Walter, who rushed off with it toward his dog bed. She smiled after him, then went to the counter and cracked open a beer, handing me one.

“Aren’t you going to have any?”

“No,” she said. “I have studying to do tonight. These are all for you.”

I grinned. “You think it’s going to take a whole six pack to get me to talk?”

“I came prepared for anything.”

We sat on the couch and shot the shit like old times for a while. Three beers later, I found myself opening up about everything. I told her the whole story again from the start. When I was finally done, I felt emptied out and hollow. I hadn’t told anyone the whole story, not even Damon or Pierce. It felt strangely good to let it all out.

“Okay,” Laney said, giving me a very serious look. “I’m going to say this as nicely as I can, Dean. You’re an idiot. A very sweet, very misguided idiot.”

I frowned. “I’m not an idiot. I’m a fucking hero.” I swallowed the last of my beer and grabbed another bottle.

Laney was clearly trying not to smile. “A hero? Yeah, you know. It makes more sense now. The fact that you think that, I mean. You’re over here patting yourself on the back for your grand sacrifice, aren’t you? The wounded warrior protecting his princess?”

“You're damn right I am. I did the right thing. The hard thing.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe it should’ve been Pearl’s choice?”

“What should’ve?” I asked.

“Whether she wanted to risk trusting you.”

Maybe it was the beers, but I wasn’t quite putting the dots together. Usually, I was smarter than this. “I’m not following.”

“Clearly.” Laney tucked her legs under herself, holding up her two index fingers and speaking slower like she was talking to a child. “This little piggy thinks it’s a bad piggy.” She wiggled her other finger. “This little piggy likes the bad piggy anyway. But the bad piggy pretended he doesn’t like her because he doesn’t want to hurt her.”

I squinted. “Did you just call me a pig?”

“Focus, you big idiot.”

I grinned, cutting her off. “Okay, okay. I get what you’re trying to say. I should’ve told Pearl how I felt and let her decide? Is that it?”

“Uh, yes?”

“No. You’re wrong. Because you don’t understand how we felt. We would’ve given it a shot if I did that. I would’ve been basically baiting her into it, even though I knew how it would end.”

“Do you know how it would end?”

“The same way it always does!” I said, setting my beer down with frustration. “You know me, Laney. You know what I do. I lose interest. I fuck it up. I always have and I always will.”

“Have you ever walked away from a woman you really cared about to spare her from you before?”

“No,” I said.

“Then you haven’t felt like this about a woman before. Which means you don’t know how this would end, stupid.”

“I know how it would probably end,” I said with a little less force.

“Knowing something will probably happen isn’t knowing.”

“What?”

“You screwed up, Dean. That’s all there is to it. You owe it to her to go tell her how you really feet. I doubt she’s going to change her mind about it now, but you owe her that much.”

“What good would that do?”

“You said she has anxiety like me, right? If she did, can you even imagine how hard it must’ve been to tell you how she was feeling like that? Imagine how much she cared about you to do that. And what did you do?”

It finally hit me. When it did, it all came with the force of a fucking freight train straight to my chest. I hung my head, hands balling into fists. “Shit,” I muttered. I thought back to the dressing room–to the emotion and fear in Pearl’s eyes as she told me how she felt right to my face. She’d asked me to be with her and I told her I couldn’t. It must’ve broken everything in her, and the next time I really saw her she was getting plastered to take her mind off it.

Laney leaned forward, tilting her head to get a look at me. “Is he finally realizing the scope of his screw up? Have we gotten through the iron curtain surrounding that peanut you call a brain?”

I suddenly felt like getting up and doing something, but I didn’t know what. “I can’t call her,” I said. “She blocked me.”

“Okay, cool your jets, big guy. Let’s think this through. I’m not sure I completely trust you to have the right plan in mind. What’s our goal, here?”

“To fix this.”

“Fix it how?”

“I want her,” I said simply. “I’ve wanted to be with her since we first met. It took me a little to admit it to myself, but it was there. It still is. So I’m going to apologize. If the right thing is to tell her how I feel, then I’m going to fucking tell her. The rest can sort itself out.”

“What kind of apology do you have in mind?”

“A good one?” I tried.

Laney sighed. “Look. Let me educate you just a little on woman-kind. If you want your apology to really matter, it needs to show us that you fully understand what you did wrong and that you’ve taken steps to change. Got it?”

“Understand my screw-up, ready to change. Yeah. Got it.”

“Good. Can I trust you to handle this, or do you need my supervision?”

I grinned. “You have school to focus on. Go home. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Laney smiled and gave me a little punch. “By the way, I know you’re not stupid. And I think it was really sweet that you did what you did, even if it was bone-headed. So go fix it.”

I gave her a hug, thanked her, and then started working on how I was going to go about making things right.

42

PEARL

The Ashford Inn smelled like pancakes, syrup, and coffee. I took a deep breath and smiled. My view from the window beside our table at The Spot was of ice-capped mountains and rolling hills. It was something I still hadn’t come close to tiring of.

Lizzie was eating a biscuit with gravy and had a big glass of orange juice. Steph had crepes filled with some kind of strawberry reduction and a coffee. I was eating my favorite, french toast drizzled in home-made syrup with apple juice on the side.

My apartment wasn’t big enough for both of my sisters to sleep, so they were staying at the Ashford Inn while they visited me for the week. We’d been meeting at The Spot for most of our meals. Considering the quality of the food, the prices were insanely reasonable. It also beat trying to cook in my tiny little kitchen.

Lizzie was going on for the tenth time about how amazing her honeymoon to Key West with Jonas was. By all accounts, they had become the perfect married couple. Maybe there was still a little jab of jealousy toward Lizzie and her perfect life, but I loved her and was happy for her all the same. Jonas and Maxwell apparently had a falling out with Alec after the wedding. In the days following his blow-up, some nasty things had come out about his feelings toward his brothers.

Ultimately, they decided to go their separate ways. Maxwell still cut ties with Dean because he didn’t trust him anymore, but they also split the Pollard company into two branches. Alec called his wing Spotlight Marketing and was allowed to take some of the staff with him. He’d tried to recruit Marley, but she outright refused and managed to keep her position with Maxwell, who continued to run Pollard Marketing with Jonas.

Lizzie snapped her fingers at me. “You there? You zoned out on me.”

“Sorry.” I shoveled a big bite of french toast into my mouth and smiled around it. “Still waking up, I guess.”

The bell over the door to the lobby gave a little jingle. I looked up and nearly choked on my food. Dean Slater in all of his tall, gorgeous glory was striding into the inn. I stared at him for several long moments and waited for my brain to decide he was real. Dean went straight to the front desk, never looking in the direction of the dining room. Molly and Billy were at the desk this morning, and he was asking them something.

“You haven’t seen me!” I hissed.

I ducked under the table and crouched, hoping the table base–which was about a third as wide as me–would properly hide me.

“Thanks,” I heard Dean say. A moment later, I saw his feet and then his legs approaching our table. “I didn’t think I’d run into you two,” he said.

“Hi,” Lizzie said.

“Eat shit and die,” Steph said.

Dean chuckled. “Um, have either of you seen Pearl? I want to talk to her.”

“I don’t think Pearl wants to talk to you,” Steph said.

“Yeah, I get that,” he said. “Maybe you two could pass a message along to her for me? There’s something I’d really like to show her. If she could come to the barn where Lizzie’s ceremony was tonight, I’ll explain everything. Seven o’clock.”

There was a pause. “Why there?” Lizzie asked.

“And what makes you think she’d come?” Steph asked.

“I was hoping the two of you could convince her. If she still hates me, then tell her it’ll be a great chance to see me get horribly embarrassed. If she’s not happy with how things ended… well, tell her she should come. Can you two do that?”

“We’ll think about it,” Steph said.

“Good.” There was another pause, then Dean’s head popped into view under the table. “I hope I’ll see you there, Pearl.”

I winced, then shielded my face from him because it was the only thing I could think to do. I waited until I heard the sound of his footsteps retreat and the eventual jingle of the bell over the door.

“Who hides under a table?” Steph asked, almost to herself.

With as much dignity as I could, I got out from under the table and brushed my clothes off. “Someone who is known to panic in high stress situations, maybe?”

“I thought all that anxiety stuff was getting better,” Steph said.

“It was,” I said. The real truth was that my time with Dean was some of the calmest I’d felt, even amid all the chaos and stress of trying to figure out my feelings. He’d felt like a rock I could hold on to. Knowing he was there for me made everything easier. Ever since he left for the city, my constant anxiety had crept back in. Little by little, I thought it was getting worse, too.

“What are you going to do?” Lizzie asked.

“I’m not going,” I said.

“Really?” Steph looked almost offended. “I’m dying of curiosity, dude. Maybe he put together a Powerpoint presentation explaining all the ways he fucked up, or something.”

“He really might want to apologize,” Lizzie said. “Something big and romantic.”

I shook my head. “Apologize for what? Not liking me?”

“You won’t know if you don’t go,” Steph warned.

“Then I guess I won’t know.”

43

PEARL

True to my word, I was in my apartment with my laptop open about thirty minutes before I was supposed to go to whatever Dean was planning. I was stubborn, so I’d even put on pajamas. If some weak part of me got tempted to rush out there at the last minute, I’d be doing it in my pajamas. In other words, not at all. The whole town wasn’t about to see me in my pink unicorn PJ’s.

It was more like I was pretending to work than actually working. I had a design file open and I was absently switching the background colors while my mind was on Dean and whatever he was planning.

I jumped and actually screamed a little when someone knocked on my door. It wasn’t a polite, “here’s your package” kind of knock, either. It was a frantic knock. They only paused a split second before launching into another series of rapid taps.

I thought about my ridiculous PJ’s, regretted the decision, and then went to the door. I opened it a sliver, sticking one eye in the crack.

“Miss Moreno!” Billy said. “We need a ride!”

“Sorry,” Greyson Ashford said. He was towering behind Molly and Billy with a hand on each of their shoulders. The man was just as distractingly handsome as his brother, Zack. He was in his mid to late thirties, but appeared to age the same way wine did. “My truck wouldn’t start and we don’t have time to make it there on foot. Any chance you’d give us a lift?”

“Um,” I said. “Sorry. I’m not really dressed to go out.”

“That’s fine,” Molly said. “You can borrow Mommy’s big jacket.”

Suspiciously, Greyson held out the jacket for me to take.

“Where is it you need me to take you?” I asked.

“I can give you directions on the way,” Greyson said.

“It wouldn’t happen to be a certain barn, would it?”

Greyson rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, it’s possible.”

“Please!” Molly said. She came forward and hugged my leg. “That man really wants you to come. We’re all waiting to see what happens! Please, please, please!”

Billy nodded with solemn agreement. “It would be a big disappointment to the whole town if you didn’t show.”

“The whole town?” I asked. “How many people are there, exactly?”

Greyson shrugged. “Everybody who was interested in a little gossip.”

“That means everybody,” Molly added. She was still clinging to my legs. The little girl had the biggest pair of puppy dog eyes I think I’d ever seen. She was currently aiming them at me–full blast.

“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’ll go. But if people are hoping for some kind of happy resolution, they’re going to be disappointed.”

“Great,” Greyson said. “Put this on.”

I took the jacket and slid it on, zipping it up to cover as much of my pajamas as I could.

I let Greyson drive my car while I waited in the passenger seat with my arms folded. Molly was practically vibrating with excitement in the back seat.

When we pulled up the dirt road to the farm where Lizzie’s wedding had taken place, I felt my stomach drop. The road leading up to the house was lined with cars. Greyson hadn’t been exaggerating. Somehow, Dean had managed to suck the whole town into coming. What the hell was he planning?

We got out in front of the house and walked through the grass toward the barn. It was lit up with string lights and decorated like another wedding was taking place. I wondered if they’d been booked out for someone else’s wedding, but thought I would’ve heard the rumors if that was the case.

“Look!” Molly said. “Flower petals!” She laughed as she picked up a handful from the grass and tossed them over her head.

I saw she was right. We were walking along a pathway of flower petals, just like there had been for Lizzie’s wedding.

When I came around the corner and saw inside the barn, it was packed to the brim with people from town. They were all stuffed into little chairs and some were standing around the edges. The other side of the barn was open to reveal a little arch of flowers, where Dean was waiting in a crisp black suit. He had a microphone in his hand.

“Nope,” I said. I started to turn and run, but Greyson caught me by the arm. “At least hear him out. Come on. Take it from a guy who screwed up once and had to do a little groveling.”

I still gave escape a very long thought, but I turned and took a deep breath.

Dean saw me and took a deep breath of his own. For once in his life, the man actually looked nervous.

Everybody quieted to a hush, and I felt myself walking a little ways up the aisle between the chairs. If Dean Slater tried to propose to me, he was officially out of his mind.

“Music, please,” Dean said into the mic. He pointed somewhere in the crowd and after a few seconds, soft, sappy music started to play. “I was told this would work better if I had a soundtrack.”

I folded my arms. I decided getting any closer was dangerous, so I waited right where I was in the center of the aisle. I was painfully conscious of all the eyes on me. Without looking around, I guessed it had to be nearly the entire town packed into the little barn. Maybe not people from Stone Village, but the true Fairhopers were all here. I was almost certain of it.

Then a little voice at my side made me jump. “Go to him!” It was Molly. She was whispering and shoving my butt with both hands.

I stumbled forward, more and more conscious of the fact that I was in pajamas and a coat while Dean was in a full suit.

I made it to the doorway on the other side of the barn, just a few steps from Dean. At least the crowd was at my back, then. I could pretend it was just Dean and me if I tried hard enough. There were the dangling lights over his head and behind him, lighting him in a golden halo that caught the stray hairs on his head and the stubble on his jaw.

Dean came closer and lowered his mouth to my ear, holding the microphone at his side. “This is what happens when you block me. I can’t just call to say sorry.”

I gave him a look, which earned a wry smile from him. Just like that, it felt like we were back to three months ago when the chemistry always felt like it was zipping between us in a constant stream of electric jolts.

He raised the microphone to his mouth and started to speak, half to me and half to the people behind me. “Three months ago, I misled all of you.”

He misled them? We both had. Was that his plan? Did he think he could take all the blame and somehow make my life easier here?

“I let you think I was dating Pearl. I think I owe all of you an explanation. See, almost a year ago, Pear and I both had our hearts broken. We knew friends and family would try to make it better by setting us up, so we tried to beat them to the punch. We’d pretend we had a long distance relationship as long as it took to get everyone off our backs. And I thought I might just be done dating altogether. She said she was, too. So it seemed perfect.”

“Dean, what are you doing?” I asked. I felt supremely awkward just standing there with my back to everyone while Dean gave his little speech into the microphone.

He lowered the microphone again, speaking just to me. “I’m building up to it. Give it a minute.” He winked, then lifted the microphone again.

“But then we wound up getting obligated by work to go to the same conference and the same wedding week here in Fairhope. It took about two minutes to realize my feelings for Pearl were way more than pretend. Little by little, I was falling for her.”

I felt my eyebrows come together and my stomach threaten to drop out. He what?

“But there was a problem. All her life, Pearl was treated wrong by men. They didn’t appreciate what they had with her, and they screwed it up. All my life, I’ve been screwing up relationships. One way or another, I find a way. So once I realized how much I cared about her, I saw the truth. I wasn’t different than the men before. I was one of the jerks who kept breaking her heart. So what did it matter if I was crazy about her? Telling her my feelings was only going to end in heartbreak. I was certain I’d screw it up, and I knew Pearl deserved better than that. So I did what I thought was the right thing.”

All I could do was stare with my mouth open. Did he really mean all of this? It brought me back to the dream I’d had after my drunken night at the rehearsal dinner. Hadn’t I dreamed he said something like that to me? Or maybe it wasn’t a dream at all. Maybe that was just a fuzzy memory of something he thought I wouldn’t remember?

“I hid my feelings from her. I thought I was being noble. Honorable. It was self-sacrifice for the greater good, or something stupid like that. But I never stopped to think that it wasn’t my choice.” He lowered his eyes from the crowd and looked into mine, microphone still up to his lips. “Trusting someone with your heart is a scary thing. It’s dangerous. It can lead to heart break. But I never gave you the chance to decide if you wanted to trust me with yours.”

“Dean,” I whispered. “What are you doing?”

“I’m crazy about you, Pearl. I’ve been a complete mess ever since I went back to Manhattan without you. It feels like life lost all of its color. Like I’m just going through the motions. All I do is think about the time we had together and how much I miss it. How much I miss you. So I’m here to tell you that I’ve never been as happy as I was when we were together. I love you, Pearl. And I wanted you to know that, even if you don’t feel the same way. Because you deserve to make your own choice, and I was an idiot for taking that choice away from you. Oh, I also realized I’m not like those assholes who came before. I’ll never make you regret it if you trust me.”

He got down on one knee and held up a little necklace. It was in the shape of a frog. “Sorry,” he said. “This was all kind of a last-minute realization, and the frog was the only necklace I could find at the airport.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt a hot tear roll down my cheek. “Okay,” I said, laughing and crying at the same time.

“Pearl Moreno,” he said into the microphone. “Will you be my girlfriend? Just to clarify, it’d be real this time. I wanted a few witnesses, in case people are skeptical given our history.”

His words opened something in me. Something I’d been trying desperately to close off these last few months. It was hope. I felt all the hope come pouring out of me. It rushed from my center, warm and brilliant, washing over me like some kind of cleansing fire.

This was what I wanted. It was what I didn’t dare to hope for anymore. It was what I needed so desperately I couldn’t admit it, because that would be admitting how imperfect my life was.

I rushed forward, practically tackling him in a hug.

“For the sake of the crowd,” Dean said into the microphone over my shoulder. “I think we need an official ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

He lifted the microphone to my lips. “Yes,” I laughed. “Yes!”

Molly was the first to jump up and pump her little fist into the air. “So freaking romantic. Yesss!” There was scattered laughter and then people were clapping for us.

It was ridiculous, over-the-top, and so totally Dean that I found myself loving every bit of it.

“Sorry about the frog necklace,” he whispered to me. “Once my little sister helped me realize what an idiot I’d been, I came straight here. I didn’t want to wait.”

“I’m glad you came,” I said.

“You know,” Dean said. “You could’ve dressed up a little bit.”

I pulled back to glare at him. He was smiling, and then his smile faded when our eyes met. He put a hand on my cheek and pulled me in for a soft kiss. I’d forgotten we weren’t alone until there were more whoops and some clapping from the crowd.

I kissed him, not caring if anyone watched. For the first time in months, I felt at peace inside. I didn’t have to hide from my feelings anymore. I didn’t need to wonder what was wrong with me–to wonder why I could feel so much for someone who didn’t feel the same way for me.

All along, he’d just been trying to care for me in his own way, misguided as it might have been. I hugged my arms around him. He was my big, stupid, well-intentioned boyfriend. My boyfriend who I wished had just tried not to be so freaking noble and saved me all the heartache. “My butt is getting really cold,” I said. My pajama bottoms were thin and the night was near freezing.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “My lady. If you need help warming up your butt, you only have to ask.”

I bit my lip. “Hmm. I don’t know. I’ve never been on a real date with you, and I don’t do that with guys I haven’t dated. I’m a proper kind of lady, you know.”

“That’s a shame, because I’m not a proper kind of gentleman.”

It turned out, that was not a bluff. Once the people from town had cleared out and congratulated us, Dean practically rushed me into his car and back to his room at the Ashford Inn. Our clothes were off before we hit the bed, and for the first time, I slept with Dean and didn’t even try to pretend it wasn’t everything I’d always wanted. That he wasn’t everything I’d always wanted.

We were laying in bed afterward and my head was on his bare chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “I love you,” he said. “I think I’ve loved you since that first kiss in the lobby back in Asheville, even if I didn’t know what to call it then.”

I took a split second to look inside myself. It wasn’t hard to find. When I thought of Dean, I felt a kind of gushing hope and excitement for the future. I felt safe. I felt warm. I felt happy. Dean made me see the difference between him and all the guys who had come before. When you really loved somebody, giving them your heart wasn’t a choice anymore. It wasn’t a risk or a hard decision. It was a law of nature. Love like that meant your heart was already theirs. The risk was as unavoidable as gravity. It was fate.

But all of that didn’t mean I had to make it easy for him. “Hmm,” I said. “That’s nice.”

Dean rolled on top of me, pinning me down with a devilish look in his eye. “That’s nice? That’s all you have to say for me?”

“Mhm,” I said. I bit the corner of my lip, trying not to smile. His eyes searched mine.

“I love you, Pearl. Whether you say it back or not, I’m going to keep telling you. And you’ll just have to deal with it.”

I finally grinned. “And I love you too. I loved you even when you were trying your hardest not to break my heart by breaking my heart.”

He kissed me. “Sorry about that.”

“The apology might have been worth the three months of pain.”

“Good. I spent the whole plane ride searching the internet for ideas on how to apologize when you’ve been a colossal idiot. It was either that, or I was going to get you a piñata shaped like me. I’d let you whack it and then the frog necklace would be inside. But I called some piñata guys and they said it’d take at least two or three days.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say you made the right choice by not doing that one.”

“Good. But I was going to keep trying if you turned me down, anyway. That was only Plan A.

“What was your next move, then?”

“Next, I was going to have Molly Ashford start working on you. Apparently, she has experience in the matchmaking game.”

“I’m almost sad I missed that. Is it too late to change my mind and pretend I don’t forgive you?”

“Yes,” Dean kissed me again. “Because the moment you took that frog necklace, you were mine. And I’m planning to keep you.”

I ran my fingertip down the center of his chest, smiling softly. “I might just let you.”

44

EPILOGUE - DEAN

Epilogue - Dean

Two Months Later

The bonfire roared. Logs popped and hissed. Most of the cold from Winter had long since faded, but nights here were still pleasantly cool. Pearl looked up at me, leaning in to rest her head on my shoulder and smiling.

Walter was loping around, chasing the kids and barking with excitement when anybody was nice enough to throw something for him to chase. Every few minutes, he’d gallop over to where we were sitting and give us both a check-in sniff, then rush off when he heard little kids screaming and laughing by the river.

Little by little, her family was moving out to Fairhope. First, her sister Steph had been lured in by the promise of work with Zack Ashford at his wildlife rescue. Some of his help had moved off for college and he needed another warm body. Her sister had always been an animal person, and the promise of a cheap place to stay in a little town she admitted she’d started to love was enough to pull her from the city. With the way Zack Ashford seemed to get along with the women in town, I hoped my sister wouldn’t wind up working under him, too. It would be exactly her kind of work, after all.

Next, her mom and dad decided to come out. Two of their three daughters living here had been enough to draw them, especially since Jonas Pollard was constantly taking Lizzie around the world for exotic vacations.

I’d begun working with the man who built Stone Tower, Christian Stone, and I’d also picked up a handful of remote contracts with CEO’s across the country who were happy to do video calls. Pearl was excelling at her job and already pushing for a promotion that would give her more creative freedom so she could oversee an entire team of designers.

According to Pearl, her work friend, Marley, had been talking about moving out to join her. She wasn’t sure if Marley would follow through, but it really felt like our lives had carried on without any hitches after moving here.

In a few short months, the best parts of our lives before were starting to drift over to this new one we were building. It was a fresh start in almost every way. And for the first time in my life, I really thought it was all going to work out.

We spent most mornings walking Walter along the many hiking trails just outside Fairhope. I’d joined most of the guys in town for pickup basketball games over the weekend. My shooting game was getting a little better, but not much. Pearl was getting closer with Harper, Lin, Farrah, and Gabby. She was the happiest I’d ever seen her.

Greyson had Harper wrapped in his arms as they came over to sit with us. He smiled, kissing her on the top of the head.

“I still take credit for this,” Greyson said.

Harper shot him an amused look. “You just followed orders. We told you exactly what to do.”

“Who is the one who got her out of the house and to the proposal on time?” Greyson asked.

“It wasn’t a proposal,” Pearl said. “It’s not like we’re married.”

Pearl’s mom was near enough to chime in. “Yet,” she said, holding up a finger.

I smirked, giving Pearl a hug from the side. “Yet,” I agreed.

Pearl’s eyebrow shot up. We hadn’t officially talked about marriage, but I felt like it was a foregone conclusion. There wasn’t anyone else I wanted to be with, and nothing I could imagine would change that.

“You know,” Greyson said thoughtfully. “You got yourself into a situation, Dean. The way you asked her to be your girlfriend was so dramatic. How are you going to top that for the proposal?”

“Damn,” I said. “I hadn’t actually thought that far ahead.”

“Shocker,” Pearl said, laughing. She gave my bicep a squeeze. “He doesn’t have to top anything. If the time comes when he wants to ask me that question, all I care about is that he asks.” She looked up at me, smiling in a way that made my cock hard and my heart melt at the same time–it was an impressive combination, if you asked me. “All I want is him.”

“Don’t buy that,” Greyson warned. “Typical woman talk. It’s like when they say they don’t want anything for Christmas. Definitely don’t believe that.”

Harper smiled in a way that said his example wasn’t hypothetical.

“I’m serious,” Pearl said. “Big weddings. Big proposals. That’s not really my thing. I would’ve forgiven him if he’d just called me and said what he said.”

“He would’ve tried that if you hadn’t blocked his number,” I said.

Pearl laughed. “Fair point.”

“So do you think your other sister is going to move out here, too?” Harper asked Pearl.

“I’m not sure. With the way Jonas is, I’d say it’s a safer bet he’ll buy a vacation home out here. The two of them hardly stay in one place anymore.”

“Too many more of you move out here and we’ll have to stop calling it a small town,” Greyson noted. “Your family alone might bump us to medium town status.”

“But we’re super happy you’re all here,” Harper said, giving him a little punch.

“Yeah, we are,” he agreed.

A little later in the night I took Pearl down the hill just past the fire. The grass was cool on our bare feet and the sound of laughter and conversation was faint.

“Where are we going?” Pearl asked.

“Anywhere you want.” I stopped, taking her hands in mine and meeting her eyes. “But right here seems good to me.”

She put her arms around my waist, pressing herself into me. “It’s not so bad.”

“There was something I wanted to ask you,” I said.

“Okay.”

“Do you ever want to start a family?”

“You mean having kids?”

“Yeah.”

“Honestly, I’d kind of given up on the idea of relationships ever working out for me. I haven’t thought about it in a long time.”

“I was wondering if you’d thought about it in the last month or so.”

She smirked. “I would say I have never thought about letting my boyfriend get me pregnant, no. I have considered letting my husband put a baby in me, though. If I had one.”

“Is that right? Well, we could fix that.”

She took in a sharp breath.

“Marry me, Pearl.”

“You’re supposed to ask, not demand it.”

“Now look who is suddenly Little Miss Particular.”

She laughed. She was bouncing on her feet and clutching my hands. “Yes. Yes. Of course I’ll marry you. But you have to promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Never break my heart.”

“Break it? I wouldn’t even dream of letting it get scuffed.” I took her hands and put them on my chest. “Feel this? That’s where your heart is. And it’s fucking Fort Knox in there.”

“Isn’t all the gold in Fort Knox fake?”

“Okay. It’s The Alamo.”

“Didn’t the Alamo end up getting taken?”

I sighed. “My history sucks. It’s some historical fort that has never been taken and never will be, okay?”

She chewed her lip. “Okay.”

“Oh, I guess you might want this.” I pulled the little box I’d been carrying with me for the last two weeks from my back pocket. I opened it, showing her the ring. “Sorry, it’s not frog themed, but I–”

Pearl jumped into my arms, making me drop the ring as we both laughed. “I love it,” she said into my shoulder. “I love you.”

-The End

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46

GREYSON (ONCE UPON A BET SNEAK PEAK)

The two little people behind me giggled while we waited in line. I knew exactly what that giggle meant but pretended I didn’t. Rule number one of being a fun dad was playing along. It was honestly pretty easy to keep kids happy if you just stuck to that simple rule. Unfortunately, keeping my ex-wife happy hadn’t been nearly as simple.

I showed no sign of hearing the giggling. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and looked around, just admiring the dinky little small town general store. That was me–the totally unsuspecting dad. Just the old guy taking a nostalgic look around his former stomping grounds. There wasn’t a clue in my mind that my little angels were scheming behind me.

“You’ve got to,” one of the small voices whispered. That one was Billy, my nine-year-old.

“We’re gonna get in trouble.” That slightly lisping, raspy voice was Molly, my six-year-old.

I whistled with no particular tune, letting them know I still had no idea.

I wasn’t exactly in the mood to play games, but I knew this was hard on them. I’d just uprooted them from our lives in D.C. so we could come to the middle of nowhere town of Fairhope, Colorado. It was temporary, but three months might as well be an eternity for little kids. They wouldn’t be seeing their mom–my ex-wife, Katie–for two weeks, either.

It would’ve been easier to let them stay with her until I got settled in here, but it worked out for Katie to let me have them, and I never passed up time with the kids when I could get it. I may have never been meant to be a good husband, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be a good dad. A damn good one, in fact.

My boss had only given me three months leave for the family emergency, but this was going to be great for all of us. I was going to make sure of that. Besides, it was good to show the kids where their old man had grown up, even if Fairhope was a little… dated.

The giggling continued while I looked around, noting the dust gathering on boxes of name-brand medication high up on the shelves behind the counter. I lifted my finger to tap a little candy-cane decoration that was about two months past the season. The whole town had a sense of being frozen in time. Like nothing had changed since I left after high school.

The downtown was a scattering of rustic little specialty shops and a few mainstays like the theater, the general store, the bowling alley, and of course, my grandpa’s inn. If you drove a minute or two in any direction, you’d be in the rolling hills that were dotted with charming little houses that were all built in the late 1800s and early 1900s.

I’d been back to visit every couple years to see my Grandpa, and the feeling struck me every time I was here. This whole place was a strange little bubble–completely insulated from the outside world. Once or twice, I’d fantasized about packing up and moving out here, but there wasn’t exactly work for someone with an M.B.A. in business in a small town like this. No. To me, this place was a dying reality.

“Just do it,” Billy urged.

“You promise he won’t get mad?”

I whistled a little louder. Being a good dad wasn’t always easy. But it was always worth it. I repeated that to myself like a mantra. It was a mantra I’d decided to drill into myself when I found out I was going to be a father. I might be a lot of things, but I was never going to be him. My own father was a narcissistic asshole who saw his kids as trophies. He didn’t even give a shit about gramps or his failing health. If you didn’t serve a purpose, he’d cast you out of his life without a second thought.

A small hand suddenly clutched mine and Molly started tugging like she was trying to break free from my grasp.

I looked down at my daughter and felt my stomach drop when she met my gaze. She did the breathing exercise I’d taught her when she was scared, never taking her big eyes from mine. Oh, shit. What did you put her up to, Billy?

“He’s not my daddy!” she screamed.

Her voice might as well have been a gunshot. Every pair of eyes in the small store was on us in an instant. For the longest second of my life, nobody moved.

The only sign that time hadn’t frozen was my precious little daughter tugging against my hand like I was the one holding her. I stared at her. Curly brown hair and big blue eyes. She had the face of an angel, and a few steps behind her stood the little devil who took after his dad. Billy was watching with the wide eyes of a pyromaniac who had just lit a fire and was somewhere between awe and terror at how quickly it had grown.

“Billy,” I said very carefully while Molly continued to tug at my hand and repeat that I wasn’t her daddy. “Tell these nice people this is your idea of a joke.”

I moved toward Billy, dragging Molly behind me as she continued her act of pretending to pull away from me. I reached for him.

That turned out to be a mistake.

My own son met my eyes, grinned for an instant, then clapped his hands to his face and did his best Home Alone scream.

I chuckled nervously, lifting my free hand while I looked around the shop. “These kids,” I muttered. I knelt down to get in their faces. Molly was red in the face from screaming and Billy’s mouth was open so wide I could see his tonsils.

“Tell them you two are joking,” I hissed at them.

I turned just in time to see a very small, very attractive woman winding up to hit me over the head with her purse.

47

HARPER (ONCE UPON A BET SNEAK PEAK)

I pulled up to McDermit’s General Store in my old PT Cruiser, Rose. Rose was the kind of car that had been around the block and hadn’t exactly been given an oil change on any of those trips around the block. Or new tires. Or any of the other things you’re supposed to do to keep your car in good running condition.

I loved the car, but I was the wrong combination of poor and car illiterate to really take care of it. She let out a chugging, choking sound and gave a happy little shake when I put her in park and turned off the engine. I tried to imagine it like a cute dog shivering before curling up to sleep.

It definitely didn’t have anything to do with all the flashing warning lights about my engine on the dash.

I needed to grab a few supplies and then hurry back home to work on the catering order for tomorrow night. Fairhope was a small town, and it was exactly the kind of small town that threw adorable little events almost every weekend. We had the slippery pig chase, the butt-balloon-buster, the town wide hide and seek, and dozens of other yearly events to look forward to. Tomorrow night was what we called the Night of Lights, where all the kids let paper lanterns loose at the bottom of the river and tried to race up to the bridge on Mainstreet in time to see which one came through first.

And I was going to get the perfect opportunity to show off what I’d learned on my brief culinary tour in France by catering it all. In our little world, the fact that I’d gone out of the country to study the culinary arts was just about the most exciting thing that had happened in recent memory. I’d been back over two months and I still got asked about it almost every day.

I popped into McDermit’s and froze at the door, eyes going wide.

There was a man in line who towered over everybody. He was stacked with muscle, but I couldn’t quite see his face. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and I found my eyes locked on the shape of his broad, delicious shoulders, tapered waist, and long legs. He looked like he could’ve picked up the entire beverage fridge and tossed it through a window without breaking a sweat. Or picked me up and dragged me kicking and squealing back to whatever sexy cave he came from…

Be cool, Harper. Don’t stare like a freak. I smoothed my forehead and plastered a comically casual expression on my face. Don’t mind me, folks. Just strolling through the store with no particular purpose.

As discreetly as I could, I started browsing in a direction that would let me get a better look at him. Fairhope was a small enough town that a man like this didn’t just escape notice. So who was he?

I heard a little lisping voice cry out, “He’s not my daddy!”

My heart stopped for a beat. There were only a few other people in the store, but every one of them could’ve got the senior discount at Teddy’s theater without showing I.D.

The man turned around and tried to say something to defend himself, but I barely heard. This was exactly the kind of situation I’d taken self-defense classes for. It was the kind of thing I ran mental exercises for in the shower. What would I do if someone tried to kidnap a kid in front of me?

I took a few quick breaths, trying to calm my nerves as I got a tighter grip on my purse. Thankfully, I was planning to cash some coins in at the bank later, so my purse was feeling particularly beefy. The man was much, much bigger than me, but I’d have the element of surprise.

My heart hammered against my chest. I could feel hot blood pumping through me like lava, preparing my mostly untrained body for the moment of attack.

I crept closer, inching around an aisle and using a display of potato chips as cover to get within a few steps of him. Then I saw him reach for a little boy who clapped his hands to his face and screamed.

They need my help. The thought came with a clenching of every single muscle I was able to clench. Every. Muscle.

I took a few more quick breaths, then rushed forward and swung my purse overhand at the man. He turned just in time to catch it square in the cheek instead of the back of his head.

I saw it all in slow motion. The graceful arc of my attack zipping through the dusty air in the shop. The shockwave of his skin where the edge of my purse met his cheek. The furious surprise in his dreamboat eyes…

Time returned to normal, and all the sights and sounds came along with it.

Suddenly I was standing there with a purse in my hand that I’d just used to smack a stranger in the face. The stranger was tall. So tall. He was gorgeous, angry, and glaring right down at me.

He staggered backwards and both the kids stopped yelling. The little girl squeezed his leg. “Sorry, daddy!” she said over and over.

“Dad, I didn’t–” the little boy said.

Dad? “You said he wasn’t…” I muttered.

“What the hell is going on?” McDermit asked. He’d come out from behind the desk and the three old ladies were all cowering behind him like they were expecting a bomb to go off.

The man’s face was covered by his big hand. He tilted his head back and let out an irritated growl. When he lowered his hand, I saw an already-forming red welt just below his eye. “That was their idea of a joke,” he said. He had a deep voice that rumbled through my chest.

And God. That face. He was breathtaking, with cheekbones so defined it was no surprise my purse had been drawn to them. I bet flocks of birds were sucked in by the gravity of his supernatural sexiness. Instrument panels on airplanes probably malfunctioned when they flew overhead…

An irrational part of me wanted to hop on my tiptoes and offer to kiss it better.

No, no, no. Because I saw there was also a patch of gray at his temples and in the scruff around his chin. He wore it well. Distractingly well, actually. But he was way too old for me. He was also probably married, even if he wasn’t wearing a ring. He probably took it off to work out. Like six times a day, if his muscles were any indication.

“Um,” I said, slowly moving the purse to hold it behind my back. “I’m sorry I overpowered you.”

He blinked like he was still shaking off the disorientation from the blow. Then a very dangerously charming smile formed. “Overpowered me? Is that what happened?”

I lowered my eyes, embarrassment touching my cheeks. Were we flirting? “I did get you to stop trying to kidnap those kids.”

“My kids, you mean.”

I shrugged, and that smile of his wasn’t going anywhere. Oh my goodness. This man was practically a narcotic. What was it they said about hard drugs in school? Just try them once? For some reason my brain was struggling to recall.

He touched the spot on his cheek and a hint of anger flashed in his eyes. “What the hell do you have in your purse? Bricks?”

“Coins, actually,” I said, lifting out a few rolls of pennies and smiling weakly.

He didn’t appear amused.

This is the end of the sneak peak. Click here to keep reading!>>

48

SUGGESTED READING ORDER

I realize that it can be a little overwhelming to click an author name on Amazon and get an entire list of titles going back for more than five years. Which one should you read next and what’s the best order?

So that’s what this section is here to answer!

If you enjoyed this book, then my suggestions for what to read next are below, in order from most relevant to least relevant. I haven’t included all of my books because I think the romantic comedies are going to be the best match with this book, but I’ll include one of my favorite non romantic comedy books just incase you’re interested in diving into that side of my catalog as well.

Which book should you read immediately after this one? Once Upon A Bet. If you enjoyed the portions of The Big Fake that took place in Fairhope, then this will get you right back into the little world of Fairhope, Colorado! Plus, it’s got a lot of fun tropes, like an older man and younger woman, a divorced dad who is great with his kids, and some small town fun.

After that?

Sincerely, Up Yours! It’s my most recent standalone and tons of fun. It’s a grumpy boss romcom, and probably one of my favorite book covers I’ve made in a very long time.

What should you read after that?

The Objects of Attraction Series. It starts with His Banana and is definitely my most successful series of all time. Each book is really fun, irreverent, and guaranteed to make even the stuffiest reader laugh through their nose once or twice. If you want to check out just one book to get a taste, click that first link. If you want a discount on all six books, click here to look at the bundle (that’ll get you all six books for $9.99 instead of $16)

After that?

One of my more recent works is a three book series that starts with The Boss(hole), then the Room(hate), and finally the Ego(maniac). There’s a little bit of everything in the series and I think the characters are a lot of fun. Travis from The Ego(maniac) was probably my favorite character in recent memory, so I’d say that one is a must-read!

There’s more? (Yes!)

My Mostly Funny Romance Series should be your next stop. It’s a three-book series and thematically should feel like a perfect blend of The Boss(hole)/The Room(hate) and The Objects series. Book one, My (Mostly) Secret Baby, will really give you some of that same flavor that The Boss(hole) did, as well.

And then?

You’ll move out of the world of series and into standalones at this point if you’re still looking for rom coms.

If you think BDSM meets Rom Com sounds fun, you’ll love The Golden Pecker.

If you enjoy a touch of the paranormal world with vampires and werewolves but still want that rom com flair, I’ve got two perfect books for you.

Kiss Kiss Fang Fang and I Bite, She Sucks!

What else you got, Bloom?

That pretty much wraps up the rom coms I’ve written so far. The most recent non-rom coms I wrote were a brief foray into the world of bully romance. If that’s your style, check out Ruthless Love and Savage Love. Both books have more of a young adult vibe in terms of setting and are a little more angsty and drama packed than my usual work.

Do you like BDSM?

I’ve got plenty of offerings in the BDSM world from my earlier work. Knocked Up by the Dom is a great place to start. It’s light, smutty, and will grab you right away.

Got any single dads?

You bet I do! My favorite single dad book was Single Dad Next Door. It has a little more humor than my other books around that time period did, including one of my favorite scenes to date!

Final thoughts…

I hope this list has been helpful. There are more books beyond what I’ve listed here, but I was doing my best to keep it at least mostly limited to the world of my rom coms, since that’s what you just read and probably what you’re most interested in reading more of.

Happy reading!

xx

Penelope