Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
EMMA
“So I’m gonna need a dress,” I say to Rita, walking into the shop the following Friday.
“For the wedding?” she asks.
“For tonight. Brooks is taking me out on a date.” I wrinkle my nose.
Her eyes widen. “Oh my God. Did you say yes?”
“I did.” I fill her in on last week’s conversation with Jemima and my change of mind. She grins. “So what time is he picking you up?”
“At six.”
We’ve spent the last seven days exchanging every piece of information we can think the other person needs. I haven’t told him all my dirty secrets. Like the fact that sometimes I don’t take my makeup off before bed, and that if I’m feeling super lazy I only wash my hair twice a week.
There are some things a man doesn’t need to know.
But we have exchanged favorite colors, favorite foods. He’s sent me a family tree because trying to explain his dad’s marriages and his brothers’ wives' names was almost impossible.
I haven’t told him I haven’t looked at it yet.
But tonight is the night we’re meeting to really see if this can work. Brooks is calling it a ‘trial run’.
As long as he doesn’t call it a date it’s fine by me.
She checks her watch. “It’s five already. Shouldn’t you be at home getting ready?”
“I told him to pick me up from here.” It felt weird, having him pick me up from my apartment. Like this was more than a business arrangement. “I don’t know him,” I tell her. “I’m not giving him my address.”
She laughs. “You’re going to be sharing a room with this guy at the wedding.” Rita wiggles her eyebrows. “And maybe more than that.”
“I’m not sharing any more than that,” I tell her.
“Hmmm.” She lifts a brow. “And you do know him. You’ve been talking to him every night for a week.”
“That was homework,” I say. “Like studying for a history exam. Just because you know the details of somebody’s life doesn’t mean you know them. ”
“If you know a man’s favorite food and his favorite sexual position you’re halfway there.”
My smile wavers. “I know what food he likes.”
“But you know his favorite sexual position, right?” Rita asks. “I mean, if you were really his girlfriend you’d definitely know. And you’d know the sound he makes when he…” she trails off. “You don’t know that either?”
“Why would I need to know that?” I ask her. “I’m not going to be having a polite conversation with a guest and then throw in, ‘oh, Brooks brays like a donkey when he comes.’”
She laughs. “Of course you won’t. But I’m serious, honey. You need to show you’re intimate with him. It won’t work if you don’t.”
“Intimate? Like I should sleep with him?”
She blinks. And then I blink. For a minute the silence between us is so loaded I can feel the weight of it on my shoulders. Finally, she breaks it.
“Noooo.” She shakes her head. “But there’s intimacy and then there’s intimacy . The questions you two have been asking each other? They’re not intimate. Sure, you know his favorite color and that he likes burgers or whatever.”
“Sushi,” I correct her and she smiles.
“Okay, sushi. But do you know the face he makes when he eats a good California roll?”
“No.”
She presses her lips together. “He’s right. You need to do this face to face.”
I widen my eyes at her. “We are. That’s why I need a dress.”
She turns her back to me and walks over to a rack, sliding through the dresses until she lets out a triumphant sound.
“This is the one,” she says. “The one for tonight, I mean. I have my eye on a completely different one for the wedding. Well, three actually. You’re there for four days, right?”
“Including the days we travel, yes.” And I’m dreading every single moment of it. Why did I agree to this? I could be at home, eating my body weight in vanilla ice cream.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.” She claps her hands together. “I love playing fairy godmother.” She carries the dress over to me and ushers me to the changing room. “Put that on. Then I’ll do your makeup.”
“I can do my own makeup,” I shout back through the curtain.
But of course she doesn’t let me. And an hour later I’m all dressed and made up and standing in front of the book shop, waiting for Brooks to arrive.
“Hey honey.”
I jump at the sound of my grandpa’s voice. “What are you doing here?” I ask him. “I thought you went home an hour ago.”
“I was going to. But then I picked up a copy of Dickens and kind of got lost.” He looks sheepish. “That’s a pretty dress. You going out somewhere?”
“I’m just…” I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to lie without it coming back on me. But before I can say anything else, a sleek gray sports car pulls into the space in front of us and Brooks climbs out.
“Oh,” Grandpa says, a smile pulling at his lips. “Are you two going out together?”
“It’s just a friend thing,” I tell him.
“Of course it’s not,” Granddad says. “He doesn’t look at you like he’s just a friend.”
Brooks walks over and his eyes catch mine. And it’s stupid but my heart does a brief flutter like this is a proper date and he really is as pleased to see me as he looks.
Next to me, Granddad lets out a contented sigh. Brooks holds out his hand and Granddad shakes it and I shake my head because no thoughts are working right now.
“It’s good to see you again, young man,” Granddad says. “Now I know why Emma’s all dressed up.”
“She looks beautiful.” There’s a half-smile on Brooks’ face as he looks from Granddad to me. Damn, he’s an excellent actor.
“Doesn’t she?” Granddad’s eyes are soft as he takes me in. “Looks just like her grandma.”
I swallow hard. “We’re just going out for a couple of hours,” I say to Granddad. “No biggie.”
“I haven’t seen you this dressed up since senior prom,” Granddad continues. “You had a crush on that boy. What was his name?”
“Douglas.”
“That’s right. You looked beautiful then, and you look beautiful now.” He turns his gaze to Brooks. “Though I hope you treat her better than that asshole did. And her ex, come to that.”
“Grandad…” I widen my eyes in warning at him.
“I intend to, sir.”
What’s with the sir? They make me feel like I’m in a 1980s Brat Pack movie. Not a twenty-nine-year-old woman about to fake date the man who’s trying to steal my shop away.
“She’s a good girl,” Granddad continues and I let out a low sigh. “She deserves happiness. Know what I mean?”
“I do.” Brooks sounds completely serious. He deserves an Oscar.
“And you think you’re the man to do that?”
“I believe so, yes.” Brooks slides a hand around my waist. I don’t lean into him. I’m as stiff as a board. But I’m hyper aware of the feeling of his palm against my back. He leans in to kiss my cheek. “Relax,” he murmurs.
But I can’t.
“Hey, are those flowers on the front seat?” Granddad asks, leaning to the left to peer into the car window.
“Yes, sir.”
“You bought me flowers?” I ask him. “Why?”
Granddad laughs. “Because you’re worth it, sweetheart. Of course a man should buy you flowers. I used to buy them for your grandma every week.”
I know he did. And for a while there, the way he treated Grandma gave me false expectations for what a relationship is supposed to be like. But I know better now. They’re the outliers. They don’t make romantics like Granddad anymore. And I know for a fact that Brooks doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body.
Sure, he’s good at this. But that’s because he’s a good businessman. He probably learned to lie from a young age.
I still feel like I’ve been strapped into a rollercoaster car and can’t get out.
“Where are you going?” Granddad asks.
“We’ll probably go to Mel’s,” I say. It’s the bar around the corner. It’s easy, unpretentious, and they serve the best sandwiches.
“I’ve booked a reservation at San Pietro’s,” Brooks says. I immediately panic because that’s by far the most expensive restaurant in town. And I’m determined to go dutch on this. I don’t want to owe him anything.
My eyes meet his. He looks so laid back it isn’t funny. And I’m like a frayed ball of nerves, unable to stand still.
“That’s my favorite,” Granddad says. “Remember, we went there with your grandma, Emma? For her sixtieth birthday?”
“I remember.” My voice is husky.
Brooks runs his thumb over the base of my spine and I almost jump out of my high heels. “Too many bad memories?” he asks. “We could go somewhere else.”
I shoot him a look. I hate him being nice to me. And truth be told, I want to get out of here and get this over with. “It’s fine,” I say. I just won’t eat for a week. That should cover the cost.
“Salinger,” Granddad murmurs. “I swear I’ve heard that name before.”
Oh God, he’s going to work it out. I know he is.
“Are you a hockey fan?” Brooks asks.
“Who isn’t?” Granddad asks.
“My brother used to play in the NHL. He’s a coach now. Eli Salinger.”
Granddad’s eyes widen in recognition. “Oh, that’s where I know the name from. You look a little like him.”
“He’s older than me,” Brooks says. “But yeah, I guess there’s some resemblance.” He checks his watch. “We should go,” he tells me. “We don’t want to miss our reservation.”
“Have a wonderful time,” Granddad says. “And Emma?”
“Yes?” I squeak.
“I’ll open up the shop tomorrow. You don’t need to hurry to get up.” He winks at me and I roll my eyes back at him.
“I’ll see you at nine,” I say, just as Brooks shakes his hand again.
This date hasn’t even started, yet I already feel like I’ve failed the test. Things can only get better from here.
brOOKS
“Why did you bring these?” Emma says as soon as the car doors are closed and I start the engine. She’s looking at the flowers, her brows knitted.
“Because it’s what boyfriends do,” I say. “And by the way, you need to work on your acting skills if you want people to believe we’re a couple in Montana.”
She turns to look at me. “What?” Two tiny lines form above the bridge of her nose.
“If we’re doing this,” I tell her, “you need to step up. I had to work double time because you didn’t even put in any effort.” I’m annoyed and also amused. It’s a strange combination but I’m getting used to it where she’s concerned. “If we’re going to pull this off, there’s no taking breaks. People will watch us constantly. The minute you give me an angry face, they’ll work it out.”
“I don’t have an angry face,” she says.
I lift a brow. Because yeah, she looks stupidly pretty in the natural makeup she’s applied. But she also looks like she could strangle me with her bare hands.
“This isn’t my angry face. It’s my normal face,” she tells me. “Now, can we just go to the restaurant and get this over with, please?”
I sigh. “Listen, the wedding is less than two weeks away. So unless you’re going to put your all into this, there’s no point.”
“You’re right,” she says. “We should call it off. It’s never going to work.”
“Oh no.” I shake my head. “We made an agreement.”
Her eyes meet mine. They’re a pale shade of blue. Like the sky on a winter’s day. “You’d keep me to it?”
“Yes.” I need her to look at the unit. I need her to move out of this damn building. My dad’s still asking questions and at some point I have to answer them. “And anyway, you can do it, I know you can. Do you want your ex and his girlfriend to think they’ve won?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “But I’m not good at this. Not like you are.” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and stares out of the windshield. “I can’t pretend I feel something that I don’t.”
“You want me to make you fall in love with me?” I ask her.
She chuckles and it feels like a relief. “Even you couldn’t do that.”
“That sounds like a backhanded insult.” I lift a brow at her.
She grins at me. “It was.”
“Keep looking at me like that,” I tell her.
“Like what?”
“Like you like me.”
Her lips part but she says nothing.
“Yeah, like that.” I lean closer, then kiss the skin where her hairline meets her brow. “See how easy it is?”
Her breath catches in her throat.
“Now do it to me,” I tell her.
“You want me to kiss you?”
“Show me some affection,” I say. “Like you like me.”
“Is this some weird twisted fetish?” she asks. “Do you usually pay women to do this?”
God, she’s prickly tonight. “Nope. They usually throw themselves at my feet.”
“What do you sound like when you come?” she asks.
Suddenly the car turns completely silent. Her eyes widen and she blushes.
“I’m sorry?” I shake my head because that one came out of left field. “I think I misheard you.”
“Rita says I should know,” she stammers. “And I should know your favorite sexual position.”
“Rita sounds like a gem.” I’m doing everything I can not to laugh. Of all the questions to ask.
“She is.” For the first time she gives me a relaxed, genuine smile. And damn, it lights up the whole car. “But she’s kind of right, too. I know your favorite color and your favorite food but I don’t know you .”
“Do you want to know me?” I ask her. This time I’m the one feeling exposed.
She tips her head to the side, like she’s scrutinizing me. “Yeah, I feel like I should.”
I take a long breath. “Okay, I have no idea what I sound like when I come. I’m usually too wrapped up in the moment.” And it’s been a damn while.
“That makes sense.” There’s a tinge of pink to her cheeks. It contrasts perfectly with the ivory of her skin and the hazel of her freckles.
“And my favorite position is whatever the woman I’m with likes. I’m a guy. It pretty much all works for me. I’m more concerned with making sure she has a good time.”
She swallows hard.
“And you?”
Emma looks alarmed. “What about me?”
“Anything you want to share about your sexual preferences?”
“No,” she splutters.
“Okay then. Let’s get some food.”
“Is that it? Aren’t you going to drag it out of me?” she asks. “Aren’t you going to tell me how wrong it is that you gave me all the answers and I gave you none?” She sounds almost disappointed at my reaction.
“I prefer to find out in the moment,” I say, putting my arm on the back of her seat as I look behind me to reverse out. “And anyway…”
“What?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I smile to myself. “I won’t force you to tell me things if you don’t want to.”
She doesn’t reply. Just stares at me. And though my eyes are on the road as I drive, I can feel the heat of her gaze on my face for the entire trip to the restaurant.