My Perfect Valentine (Be My Fake Valentine)
1. Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Addie
Logan does another set of pushups and I can’t help but watch as his arms bulge as he goes up and down. I keep a hand over my mouth as I rest my chin on it, hoping to catch any drool that might escape because that man is the sexiest creature I’ve ever seen and often wondered if he’s a man at all. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a God or an alien coming to learn our ways and find a potential mate.
If there’s an opening, then I’ll happily volunteer as tribute. You know, for the safety of our world. Would hate for another woman to be sacrificed in such a way.
I need to stop reading my alien romance books before bed. It’s making me dream up crazy scenarios.
Logan stops and heads over to the barbells and grabs some heavy weights. I alone struggle to move one at a time. But this behemoth picks them up like they’re air.
“Morning Addie.” I startle as Lacy checks in for the morning aerobics class.
“Morning Lacy. Have a great workout.”
The older lady smiles and heads upstairs to the classrooms. I sigh, knowing I need to stop salivating over the older hottie. To be fair, it’s not my fault he’s so sexy, with the constant five o’clock shadow with the silver streaks lining his temples and small laugh lines at the corners of his awe striking baby blue eyes. Or the fact he’s fit, but not overly bulky.
As a curvier girl who has accepted her fate of never being less than a size sixteen on her best day, at the height of five foot four, I like to think I’m cuddly. Even though no other man has ever thought so. And there’s no way Adonis over there will agree, either. Not when he can have any woman he wants. Trust me, the way women in the gym fawn over him, it’s inevitable.
It just makes it worse that he’s so kind. The man is always optimistic and willing to help anybody out and is always giving out a megawatt smile.
Several more women come to sign in and head upstairs, and with every swipe of their access card, the date, February 12th, glares at me and my mind wanders with trepidation.
The constant reminder that I don't have a date to my parent’s annual Valentine’s Day charity gala makes me cringe, pull my head out of the clouds, and resume my scrolling of potential fake boyfriends on the Perfect Plus One site I signed up for yesterday out of desperation.
My mother warned me if I didn’t show up with a date, she’s taking things into her own hands. Which I don’t like, and have been lying about a mysteries boyfriend I’m getting better acquainted with because the prestigious doctor, known as my mother, has been trying to set me up with her so-called Mr. Perfect, another doctor who has a promising future ahead of him. But to me, he’s not a sought after doctor. He’s a social climber, only looking for the prestigious, and what better way for him to move up than to attach himself to the daughter of the powerhouse medical team of the married Drs. Hemberly?
They’ve been on my case when I didn’t want to go to medical school. And even more so since I didn’t go back for my masters. I got a bachelor’s in general education, which extremely disappointed them, but I have no clue on what I want to do with my life. That’s a lie I know, but it won’t be acceptable to my mother.
A heavy sigh escapes as I read over the applications. Some include pictures, some don’t. But the words blur together as I read through qualities, likes and dislikes, and I want to scold myself.
I shouldn’t be picky about who I can be fake dating. This is to get my parents off my back.
With the stealth of a chihuahua on steroids, I glance towards Logan and catch his gaze. I flush and smile before dropping my head and gazing back at the screen.
How embarrassing. He caught me seeking him out.
“Morning, Addie.”
“Hi, Addie.”
“Morning, Philip. Carl.” The older gentleman smile, swipe themselves in, and head toward the locker room to get ready for their daily laps in the pool.
The buzzer in the back room behind the front counter goes off, and I head in there to grab the load of towels from the dryer while I transfer more loads around and carry the basket to the front desk and begin folding, scrolling through applications once again.
Cole, one of my bosses, comes out of his office and smirks as he sees the so-called resume of a potential date. “You’re seriously going through with this? This whole fake date shit.”
I roll my eyes and continue to fold the laundry. “Yes. I need to bring somebody to this gala, and it can’t just be a date. This is a fake relationship. And I’ll probably need to use the poor guy several times until we eventually break up.” I can’t believe that sentence came out of my mouth and that I used air quotes on the phrase break up to my boss, of all people.
“Tell your parents to fuck off. You’re a grown woman, and still young, need to be enjoying the single life and dating around, not getting stuck with a chump.”
I scoff, then chuckle. “You’ve met my parents. How about you tell them for me?” I lift my brow, and Cole lifts his hands in the air and takes a step back.
“Whoa. What’s with the threat? I’m only giving some friendly advice.” He smirks, and I roll my eyes.
“See. Even you won’t talk to them and you have nothing to fear from them in the aspect of repercussions.”
Cole shakes his head as he grabs the latest file of new members and reads through who’s joined now. I’ve already uploaded them into the system, but Cole enjoys looking over the forms the members fill out. I keep trying to divert them to a more paperless friendly business, but it’s slow going. Plus, what do I know? I’m only their front desk clerk.
I got hired about eight months ago, when I desperately needed a job and had to move out of my parents' place or else they were going to force me back to school. The owners of Carter’s Gym are my heroes and I can’t thank them enough for making it so I could stand on my own two feet. Even though I’m stagnant and have no clue what to do next, it makes it even harder since I love my job so much. It’s fun, I meet great people, and I get to use the place for free and even get pointers and workout routines and diet suggestions from my bosses for free too. It’s wonderful.
“How’s it going, Logan?” Cole asks, and I already feel the heat flood my cheeks.
I focus on my tasks at hand, trying to appear unaffected, as I set my latest folded towel aside and scroll to the next potential fake boyfriend. This one includes a picture, and the man isn’t bad looking, but nothing makes me swoon. Nothing like the reactions I have to the man standing in front of me.
“Great. Staying busy. What’s going with you?”
“Same shit, different day.”
The men chuckle and I’m too nervous to say anything. Which happens more often than not with the man of my dreams around. He probably thinks I’m stuck up or something, since I can’t manage a simple look in the eye. I’d like to challenge any woman to gaze into those perfectly blue orbs and not drown in them.
Frank Sinatra may have been known for his captivating eyes, but I’d bet every cent to my name they didn’t hold a candle to Logan’s. Even imagining them makes my knees ready to knock.
The two shoot the breeze for a moment or two, and I re-read the guy on my screen’s opening line eight times and still can’t fathom what his name is.
“I need to get going. Talk to you later, Cole. Addie, have a great rest of your day.” Logan’s rich voice is like silk against my skin and I peek my gaze up toward him, hoping to avoid the drowning potential and smile.
“You too. See you tomorrow.”
Logan pats the counter before walking out the door, and Cole leans against the counter with his arms crossed, watching me, watching Logan leave.
Damn, that man is utter perfection. I wonder what he did for God to be like, “You, you’re my masterpiece.”
Feeling Cole’s gaze on me, I turn to him. “What?”
Cole looks from me to Logan out in the parking lot and smiles before turning around and heading toward his office. “Nothing.”
I shake my head, finish folding up the towels and scrolling to the next candidate while I work to get my blood pressure under control. A common necessity every day since meeting Logan. The man can cause a heart attack if he isn’t careful.