A Guide to Fake Dating Your Enemy
Chapter 1
Natalie
Tip #1 for fake dating your enemy: Hit your enemy/fake romantic partner with a smile. Preferably one that doesn’t look like it’s causing you physical pain.
“ B efore we move on to our next agenda item,” I began, trying to keep my tone even, “I’d like to extend our sincerest thanks to Samuel Warner for Warner Print’s generous donation to our organization.”
I stood at the head of the table, my palms sweating as I addressed the small group of Friends of the Library members. The musty scent of old books permeated the meeting room we occupied, and the faint hum of the ancient heater provided a constant background noise. The worn carpeting beneath my feet had seen better days, and the once-white walls had yellowed with age, but all of it was familiar and soothing. And I needed every source of comfort considering whom I was about to deal with.
I forced a smile in Samuel’s direction, though every fiber of my being screamed in protest. (Sure, I didn’t like the guy, but I couldn’t deny that his company’s donation was going to make a real difference for our little library.)
“Thank you, Natalie.” Samuel leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, looking far too casual for an official meeting. “Warner Print is happy to support the Fox Creek Public Library.”
Samuel was shockingly out of place among the elderly members of my organization. His tailored suit perfectly fit his athletic body, and his styled dark brown hair managed to walk the line between professional and fashionable—something he needed since he was the CEO of his family’s business despite only being a few months away from thirty years old.
“Of course,” I continued, gritting my teeth, “Warner Print is welcome to specify how they’d like us to use the funds.”
Samuel’s eyebrows rose, feigning surprise. “Oh, right. I completely forgot about that part.” His gray eyes twinkled as he looked at me, and that charming smile of his made it all too easy to forget what a jerk he could be.
“Really?” I tapped my fingers on the top of the table before giving up and plopping down in my metal folding chair. “You’ve donated quarterly for the past few years, yet you always seem to forget this little detail.” The scents of moldy carpet and stale coffee filled my nostrils as I set my elbows down on the table.
“I apologize for my shortcomings,” Samuel said. “I might be the CEO of a company that makes over a billion dollars in revenue every year, and we might be the largest employer in the county, but that’s no excuse for not remembering standard protocol for charitable donations.”
Humility was not Samuel’s strong suit.
“If you’re so busy, why are you even here?” I asked. “Isn’t this the kind of thing one of your employees-slash-minions could handle?”
“Let’s see. Where would Warner Print like to see the money used inside the library?” Samuel ignored my question so he could pretend to ponder the issue. “Hmm … how about we discuss the library’s most urgent needs over coffee at a later date, Natalie?” He flashed me another one of his infuriatingly charming smiles.
“Nice try,” I drawled. “But I’m way ahead of you. I’ve already prepared a list of suggestions.”
I whipped my phone out. My fingers flew across the screen as I emailed the list to Samuel without missing a beat.
Samuel’s expression shifted from surprise to amusement. “Look at you, Miss Efficiency. You even know my email address. I didn’t know I was that important to you.”
Samuel liked to flirt with me just to upset me. He’d discovered back when we were teenagers that it was the fastest way to annoy me. (Long histories were one of the few drawbacks of living in a small town like Fox Creek.)
“Of course I have your email.” I tucked a strand of my wavy ash-brown hair behind my ear and mentally added destressing via yoga to the list of things I’d have to do tonight. “I had to record it so I could have your emails sorted straight into my trash folder.”
“OK, OK, we get it already,” said Marjorie Mallhoney, the vice president of the Friends of the Library and a force to be reckoned with despite being well into her eighties. “Nat dislikes Samuel, Samuel dislikes Nat, and your families have hated each other and will continue to hate each other until both of your lines die out or you get a Romeo and Juliet situation to cry over. Can we move on? I’m missing bingo night at Saint Christopher’s for this!” She smacked the table with her giant, ever-present handbag for emphasis.
“I’m sorry, Marjorie, did you feel left out of my flirting?” Samuel asked. “I’ll make it up to you now: That dress suits you perfectly. You’re the epitome of elegance and grace.”
“Save your pretty boy ways for someone who’ll appreciate it, Samuel Warner,” Marjorie snapped. “And put a sock in it. I don’t want to hear another word out of you until you look at the list of possible causes Nat emailed you and decide where Warner Print wants their donation to go.”
“Thank you, Marjorie,” I said, grateful for her intervention.
She waved her hand dismissively. “You can thank me by hurrying this meeting along. I have a bingo jackpot with my name on it.”
I chuckled and glanced at Samuel to see if he was ready to call a temporary truce. He shrugged as if conceding the fight, then pulled out his cell phone, hopefully to start looking at my list.
I sat up straighter in my chair, gathered the paper agenda, and announced, “All right, while Samuel considers the possibilities, let’s move on. Our next item is picking the date for the annual winter book sale. Let’s get this done so Marjorie can still make it to her bingo night.”