3. Rosalie
3
ROSALIE
I’m struggling to keep my breathing in check as I follow the giant stranger toward Perfect Brews. He seems to take up the entire sidewalk with his broad shoulders and wide frame, his chest straining against the red flannel shirt he’s wearing. I can smell his masculine scent—whiskey and pine—and my heart flutters as he opens the door to the coffee shop, beckoning me inside.
What the heck am I doing?
This all feels so surreal. I just found out I’m going to lose my job and my home, and now I’m getting coffee with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. The craziness of it all temporarily overshadows my heartache; I can’t help being distracted by this handsome stranger as he pays for our drinks before guiding me to a secluded booth. A candle flickers on the table between us. It feels so intimate…and yet I don’t even know this guy’s name. It’s probably time to fix that.
“So, what’s your?—”
“—what’s your name?”
We both speak at the same time, and I grin at him sheepishly. “I’m Rosalie.”
“Boone.”
He nods at me, his face glowing in the candlelight.
God, he’s so handsome.
It’s hard to tear my gaze away from his rugged features—thick beard, straight nose, and a pair of scowling brows that are softened by his bright blue eyes, the color of the sky on a cloudless day. He must be in his early forties. Almost double my twenty-two years. But somehow it only makes him sexier.
I would never usually accept an invitation to coffee with a stranger, especially not from a big, intimidating-looking man like Boone. But I couldn’t resist. Not just because of his good looks, but also because I wanted the company. It’s been a tough day, and something about Boone feels safe. Secure. He might be a stranger, but maybe that’s exactly what I need right now—somebody to listen to me with no bias or judgment.
“So, Rosalie,” he says, his deep voice sending shivers through me, “you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“You’re sure you want to know?”
The last thing I want to do is start yapping about my problems if Boone was just asking me here to be polite, but he nods, his eyes burning with intensity as though it really matters to him.
“I want to know,” he says.
Those eyes are enough to turn my insides to mush. I take a deep breath, mentally pulling myself together before I tell Boone what Melissa said, letting the words pour out in a rush of emotion. He listens, his gaze never leaving my face, his frown deepening the more I speak.
“—and now I’m going to lose it all,” I say, breathing hard. “My business and my home, all at once. Peak Sweets means so much to me. I’d do anything to keep it, but when she told me the asking price for the building, all my hopes flew out the window.”
“How much?”
I tell him the price, but he doesn’t seem shocked. He just nods, encouraging me to continue.
“It just feels so hopeless,” I tell him with a sigh. “Sorry, I know I’ve been talking for a while. There are other jobs…other things I can do…but the candy store was my dream, and now it’s all over before I really got a chance to make things work.”
Sadness clogs my throat, and my voice trails off as I bite back tears. I don’t want to start crying in front of Boone again. Instead, I take a deep sip of my drink and wait for him to speak. His face is contorted in concentration, like he’s thinking hard.
“This is going to sound nuts,” he says eventually, “but I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition?” It’s my turn to frown. “What kind of proposition?”
He runs a hand over his beard, and I can almost see his brain whirring as he says, “My grandma passed away recently and left me a big chunk of money in her will. But I can’t touch a dime unless I get a girlfriend.”
“Oh.” I stare at him, bewildered. “I’m, uh…I’m sorry for your loss.” But despite the twinge of pity in my chest, I have no idea why he’s telling me this. It doesn’t sound like a proposition to me. “How come you can’t inherit without a girlfriend?”
Boone sighs. “Grandma could be pretty stubborn. She always wanted me to settle down—guess this was her way of getting me hitched from beyond the grave.”
I nod, still clueless about where he’s going with this. “So, what’s your proposition?”
“I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”
It’s like he’s speaking Mandarin. All I can do is stare at him as I say, “Sorry, I don’t follow.”
He leans across the table toward me. “If you pretend to be my girlfriend, I’ll be able to claim my inheritance. Then I can give you enough money to buy the building from your landlord. I get my inheritance—you keep your candy store.”
My head is buzzing, like a swarm of bees is burrowing into my brain. “That’s the craziest idea I’ve ever heard.”
Boone nods. “Probably. But I’m serious, Rosalie. This is a win-win for both of us.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re willing to give me—a total stranger—hundreds of thousands of dollars if I pretend to date you?”
“It’s a big inheritance. My grandma was very generous, and the cost of your building will barely make a dent in what she left for me.”
It’s insane, crazy, nuts—there are a million words for Boone’s plan. But I can see that he’s serious, and despite everything, I feel a tiny bud of hope in my gut.
Could this really work?
Could this crazy plan be the answer to all my problems?
“How would I pretend to be your girlfriend, exactly?” I ask, trying not to appear too eager.
“My grandpa is in charge of the will, so we’d have to convince him we’re a couple. I’ll introduce you as my girlfriend, and you just have to play the part.”
I bite my lip, questions flying around in my mind. “How long would it take?”
Boone lets out a whoosh of breath, shrugging. “I don’t know. We’d just have to keep pretending until Grandpa is satisfied it’s the real deal.”
Pretending to date a stranger for an indefinite period of time…it sounds like something out of a movie. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and if playing the role of Boone’s girlfriend is what it takes to save Peak Sweets, I have to do it. Accepting such a huge amount of money feels wrong, but I can’t let my moral pride get in the way. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. I need to seize it.
“What are you thinking?” Boone asks, still watching me intently.
My stomach flips, nerves and excitement bursting inside me as I reach out my hand toward him. “I’m thinking you’ve got a deal.”
He smiles slightly beneath his beard, his giant palm enveloping mine in a lingering handshake. My skin burns at the contact, and I meet Boone’s gaze, the coffee shop melting away around us. This sexy older lumberjack is now my fake boyfriend, and all we have to do is convince his grandpa that our relationship is real.
How hard could it be?