Chapter 7
seven
. . .
Rosalie
Holi-dating: The Game Plan
“Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter as I peer into the side mirror of my car, checking my lip gloss and hair one last time.
I still can’t even believe that I’m here or that I agreed to this plan in the first place, but I find myself outside of Wells McCoy’s old farmhouse with clammy palms and a racing heart.
Woof.
Oh… and Penelope.
I look down at my favorite girl, who is also occasionally the bane of my existence because of how sassy she tends to be. Other than Kennedy, most of my friends are already married with kids. But it’s just me and my Penny girl, living in our apartment above Sweet Sullivan’s.
And I’ve always been totally fine with that.
Most of the time, she’s far less high-maintenance than a kid would be. At least I think so?
I lift a brow, staring down at her and those judgy yet sweet little blue eyes of hers that make her look perpetually pitiful without even trying. “What? I don’t care about what he thinks. I just don’t want to go in there looking like a mess, that’s all.”
The way she’s currently looking at me, I’m sure if she could talk, she’d say, “Mhm, sure, whatever you say.”
“C’mon, let’s go before you catch a cold,” I call as I start walking up the short driveway.
Penny trots slowly behind me, her fluffy tail wagging with each step, and I can’t stop the squeeze of my heart.
She looks so freaking adorable in the sweater that Grams knitted her.
It fits her just right. A dark shade of green with candy canes on the front that matches perfectly with her little red velvet ribbons I put on her ears.
I’m a littttttle extra when it comes to her, but it’s okay because she’s the cutest angel to ever exist, and if anyone deserves extra, it’s her.
When I texted Wells and asked if he minded if I brought her along, I was surprised that he agreed.
I’ve just been working so much lately, and I feel like I haven’t been able to spend as much time with her.
Generally, she’s in the store with me, but with how busy it’s been, I’ve been leaving her upstairs because of how overstimulating it can be with kids trying to pet her all day.
I felt too much mom guilt leaving her behind tonight, and if Wells wants a fake girlfriend, I guess he’s getting a fake dog child too.
We’re a package deal.
And also… maybe I could use a little emotional support. That’s why I needed her here with me too.
“Okay, Penny girl. This is it,” I whisper quietly as we make our way up a set of creaky stairs leading up to the front porch. I press the doorbell twice before stepping back and glance back down at her. “I need you to be on your very best behavior, okay?”
Not that I’m too worried. My girl is usually an angel.
A few seconds later, the door swings open, and Wells comes into view. My God, he is so attractive it takes my breath away.
How is a man like him even real?
He’s freshly showered, his tousled dark hair damp, water droplets still clinging to the dark strands, and the smell of fresh pine and delicious bergamot lingers in the air between us, filling my nose with a scent I want to bottle up.
Everything about him is overwhelmingly masculine, and I hate that I like it so much.
The hair along his jaw is thick and neatly trimmed, and I have to begrudgingly admit that his perfectly groomed beard only makes him that much hotter.
He’s wearing a dark-colored hoodie and a pair of gray sweatpants that I refuse to let my gaze linger on.
Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Men’s gray sweatpants are the equivalent of lingerie for women.
“Hey,” he murmurs gruffly as his gaze moves over my body slowly before meeting mine, a small smile playing on his lips. “Thanks for coming.”
I clear my throat and nod. “Yeah, of course. Um… this is Penny.”
His eyes move to my girl at my feet, and a wide grin spreads across his face in what may be the first genuine smile I’ve ever seen from him. I’m momentarily frozen by how it seems to transform his face.
How much more handsome he is.
Dropping down into a squat, he reaches for Penny, allowing her to sniff his hand before she gives him the nudge of approval with her nose. He softly pets her head, scratching behind her ears. “Hey there, Penny. I love your bows. Very ladylike.”
Stop it, Rosalie. Stop it right now.
Be strong. Do not fall victim to Wells McCoy like every other person in this town has.
Even if he’s petting your Penny like she’s this delicate little thing and he’s worried his big hands could crush her. So tender that I want to scoop her up and run away before he takes both of our hearts hostage.
I giggle, pushing the thoughts away. “She’s very classy.”
“I see that,” he murmurs before rising back to full height, once again towering over me. “Come in. There’s someone I’d like you two to meet too.”
My brow lifts as a moment of panic seizes my chest. Shit!
Wait, am I meeting his parents already? I thought this was just a strategy meeting. I can’t freaking meet his parents when I know absolutely nothing about this man besides his ability to drive me insane and that he smells entirely too good. What am—
“Relax. Relax,” he laughs. “It’s not my family. I wouldn’t blindside you like that. Come inside—it’s cold as fuck out here.” His fingers wrap around the edge of the door, and he holds it open wider for Penny and me to step through.
Once we’re inside, I take a second to look around at the surprisingly spacious open floor plan. The floors are new, a dark hardwood that complements the soft, neutral-colored walls that are freshly painted, all illuminated by soft recessed lighting.
“Sorry it’s kind of a mess still. I’m just tackling projects a little at a time, when I can, really. Hard to find the time between working on the bar now and here,” he says over his shoulder as he walks into the living room and I follow behind him.
I shake my head. “Wells, it looks incredible. You’ve done so much with it in such a short period. This place was abandoned for a long time, and I remember what it looked like before. Now? It looks like you’ve breathed life back into it.”
Maybe it’s the lighting or just me imagining it, but I think I see his cheeks turn slightly pink at my compliment, and I roll my lips together to stifle a smile.
I’m planning to tease him about it, but the thought is interrupted when I hear the sound of paws scratching along the hardwood, and then the cutest ball of dark brown fur comes bounding around the corner of his kitchen.
My eyes widen.
Oh my God. Wells has a…
“This is Frankie. His government name is technically Franklin Roosevelt, but he prefers Frankie.”
A weenie. Wells freaking McCoy has a weenie dog.
My mind flits back to that silly freaking letter to Santa and how I wrote that my dream man would love weenies as much as I do.
So once again, I’m questioning my own sanity when it comes to the qualities this man possesses. Ones that keep becoming newly apparent, making me feel like a crazy person.
Realistically, I know that there is no possible freakin’ way that Santa somehow is delivering on my dream man list, but… it’s still weird.
It’s so damn coincidental that it has my head spinning.
Second-guessing what I know to be without a doubt true.
Hell, maybe I’m wrong and there is some kind of magical something happening.
Frankie looks to be around the same age as Penny and just as cute. His fur is a dark chocolate-brown color, his adorable floppy ears bouncing around as he circles Penny, sniffing her out.
I’m not at all worried because she’s great with other dogs and has always been overly sociable.
Penny bounces around on her paws excitedly, nudging her head against Frankie’s as if they’re not just meeting for the very first time, and then she follows directly behind him and climbs beside him into a plush, deep red-colored dog bed that sits in front of the fire.
They’re both so long they fit perfectly side by side.
“Wow,” Wells mutters, and I look over at him, watching his brows rise, surprise coating his face. “I guess we don’t need to worry about them liking each other, then.”
We both stare over at Penny and Frankie as they cuddle together on the dog bed, and I shake my head. “Yeah, I guess not. I mean, Penny’s always good around other animals, but I’ve never seen her take so quickly to another dog.”
“Frankie’s temperamental as hell at best, so yeah, I’m shocked.”
I stay rooted in place as Wells walks through the living room and into the kitchen, where he grabs a pizza box and lifts it. “Want some pizza?”
My stomach lurches at the thought of eating pizza in front of this stupidly hot man. Eating anything, really.
That’s a level of comfort that we’re not at yet.
I know that’s my trauma talking, and therapy has helped with the fact that food is sustenance, and no one will judge me for doing something as simple as keeping my body alive, but still, the insecurity remains. I hate it.
“I’m okay, thank you. I’m not really hungry.”
He eyes me for a moment but then shrugs and flips the box open, taking out a large, floppy piece of cheese-and-pepperoni pizza that has my mouth watering.
Instead of taking him up on the offer, I set my purse down onto the table and pull out one of the barstools across from him and sit.
“So, the plan,” I start, watching him take another huge bite of his pizza before he cocks a brow at me. “That’s what I’m here for, right? Let’s figure out a game plan before I change my mind.”
Walking around the table, he pulls out the chair next to me and lowers himself into it, placing his full attention on me. I can’t help but notice how gorgeous his eyes are this close. Framed by thick, dark lashes, they look like pools of light amber liquid, molten honey.
“Alright, well, the only way we’re going to convince my mother that this is real is if we do a damn good job of it.
The woman has a sixth sense. Ever since we were kids, she’s always been able to call us on our shit.
She always knows when we’re lying. Which means we’ve got to put on a hell of a performance. ”
Groaning, I slump forward onto his kitchen table before turning my head to look over at him. “And you thought now would be the time to tell me this? Jesus, Wells. Maybe this is a horrible idea after all. If that’s the case, then I don’t think we’re going to be able to pull this off.”
His laugh sounds nothing like the swell of anxiety moving through me. Why is he not worried about this the way I am?
This is his family we’re talking about fooling.
“Nah, we’re good. It’ll be fine. We don’t need to complicate it. All we need to do is come up with a story about how we met and learn some basic things about each other. No one is going to interrogate us on our relationship, Rosalie. I’m a big boy.”
Yeah, tell me about it.
Rising from the counter, I straighten my spine against the back of the barstool and blow out a breath. “Okay, okay. How we met… I’ve got it. We can tell the truth. That you stole my Santa letter out of the mailbox, and I called you on your shit.”
“Bullshit.” He laughs, shaking his head.
“My mother would never believe that I stole anything. Especially not a damn letter to Santa. She thinks I’m an angel, and her baby boy could never do any wrong.
Wait…” Trailing off, he turns in the barstool, angling his wide shoulders toward me.
“You wrote a letter to Santa? That’s what you’re freaking out about?
Aren’t you a little old to still believe in Santa Claus? ”
I roll my eyes at his teasing tone. “Ha ha. You’re so funny. Obviously, I don’t still believe in Santa. I’m almost thirty, Wells.”
He lifts his hands, palms up between us. “I mean, what else am I supposed to think? You did write him a letter. Very cute. Does that mean you believe in the Tooth Fairy too?”
“Shut up. My friend Kennedy and I had a few glasses of wine, and she had this stupid idea to write Santa letters, so I played along with it. But somehow, despite the fact that we dropped them into the mailbox that same night, they are currently missing. You just so happened to be moving in next door when the letter thief struck. I simply put two and two together.”
Wells chuckles. “Ah, so that’s why you accused me of stealing the mail and hated me on the spot. Got it.”
“I didn’t… hate you. Because of that. Obviously, I realized it was a stretch to accuse you. No, it’s because you were a dick, and you love antagonizing me just so I’ll be mad at you.”
His shoulder dips, eyes burning bright before he says, “At least I’m honest. You’re sexy when I’m driving you nuts.”
My stomach does a series of somersaults, and in a very rare occurrence, I’m at a loss for words.