Chapter 3
Beth
“Elisabeth Anne Mitchell,” one of my closest friends, Desi, screams into my ear as I pick up the phone.
“Desiree Maya Pearson,” I dryly yell back at her.
After a grueling day of trying to figure out my next step (and being unsuccessful at it), I went to bed early and slept in until noon. Clearly, decision-making is taking a toll on me.
Mom left me breakfast in the oven when I went for a run. I had just gotten out of the shower when my phone rang.
“I’m not the one who’s in tabloids right now.”
“I would hardly call it a tabloid. It’s merely a small town gossip post.”
As annoyed as I am to be the hot topic of the town, I wasn’t surprised when I got tagged in their post yesterday. It’s Meadowbrook, simple as that. But I just got back into town and was caught in a stranger’s arms.
I am impressed, though. As someone who went to school on all things branding and getting your name out there, the Madame C’s have grown their account exponentially. Especially since the juicy gossip of the mystery man. The one I know as Matthew.
“Try again.”
“What do you mean?” The chime of an incoming text rings in my ear. I click on the link, which goes to an actual tabloid.
The article reads, “Who’s this small town mystery girl with up-and-coming pro golfer, Matthew Wilkes?”
“McDreamy is making his way in the pros, Beth. He’s practically a celebrity!”
I smile at her reference to the show we’d watch together every Thursday. I pull out my computer and do an internet search on Matthew Wilkes.
“No social media, a few gossip articles, and several golf websites.”
“Not much for publicity, huh? A little ironic since you are the polar opposite.”
“It is what I studied and love. Speaking of, have you seen my latest post? This explains why it’s blowing up so much. People must have found out who I was through Chai and Chatter.”
“And what a way to be discovered.” Desi giggles, her voice ringing with an excitement that I can’t quite match.
“Yeah,” I mumble, my fingers dancing over the keyboard as I delve deeper into Matthew’s online presence. Or rather, the lack of it. He’s an enigma, wrapped in golfing attire and an irresistible smile.
My stomach flips as I stumble upon a page dedicated to his golfing career. His achievements are impressive. Top forty in the Horizon Pros, and expected to be a Summit Pro this year, whatever that means. His swing, impeccable, at least according to these sites. His piercing green eyes are nearly distracting me from my mission.
Matthew Wilkes is a man of few words, at least in the digital world. There’s something about that silence that’s both disturbing and alluring.
“Beth, are you still there?” Desi’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
“Uh, yeah,” I quickly reply, snapping out of my trance. “I was just...”
“Drooling? Smitten? Distracted? All of the above?” she teases.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I retort, the heat creeping up my neck despite the roll of my eyes.
The doorbell rings. Can’t a girl stalk a man in peace?
“Gimme a sec.” I stand from the couch and set my computer on the coffee table. I’ll come back to that momentarily.
I open the door to find myself standing eye-to-eye with said mystery man. Well, more like eye-to-shoulder because I’m shorter than him. But my, what shoulders those are.
I quickly shut my mouth, which was hanging open, and clear my throat.
“Hi, Beth,” he says, shyly smirking.
“Hey, Matthew,” I manage to get out as I see his eyes travel over me.
My hair is wet from the shower. I am makeup free (luckily, also acne free today, win!). I’m decently dressed but not what I would want to wear when a hot guy shows up at my door.
Then he looks past me into my parents’ living room.
I glance backwards to see his face taking up the majority of my computer screen. I turn slowly toward him and shrug with an awkward laugh. “I had to know who this mystery beau is if I’m bringing him home to meet the parents.”
His eyes open wide.
“No, no, I mean, I saw the Chai and Chatter post, and you know…they said…um, did you see it?”
He lets out a small laugh. “Uh, yeah, I saw it. But not until my agent sent it to me. I’m not much of a social media kinda guy.”
I nod my head slowly.
“But I’m sure you already know that,” he adds with a smirk.
“I’m just trying to figure out who’s involved in this rumor with me. Turns out I still don’t know who you are.”
His gaze softens. “Well, I may have a remedy for that.”
“Smooth.”
And here’s the part where the devastatingly handsome man asks me out. Maybe I am the star of a romcom.
“No, not like that,” he quickly clarifies.
Okay, offensive. I take it back…he’s not all that .
He continues, “I mean, I’m not saying you’re not pretty or anything, cause you are. I just…” He takes a deep breath. “Can I come in and try to redeem myself here? Or we can go to Coffee Loft if you want to be out in public.”
Invite a stranger into my house? He could be a serial killer. Hence, the lack of online presence. Or go to the town’s go-to shop where the Madame C’s can spread more rumors? No thanks. I’ll take my chances with being murdered.
“Come on in.” I sway my hand toward the living room, then quickly follow and slam my computer shut. “Want a coffee? I just put on a fresh pot.”
“Sure, that’d be nice.”
“Cream? Sugar?”
“Black is fine.”
Maybe he really is a murderer. Black coffee is disgusting. I like flavor and a side of health risks with mine. I walk to the kitchen. Thankfully, my parents’ house was built in the eighties, and open concept wasn’t a thing yet, so I’m out of his eyesight.
When I reach for two mugs, I realize my phone is still in my hand and the call with Desi is still open.
“Hey, I’ll call you back.”
“Everything okay?”
“Uh…Matthew is here. At my house.”
“What!” she screams, and I pull it away from my ear.
“I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Yes, you will! K, bye.”
I put my phone in my pocket and pour the coffee.
Ugh, now all I can think about is him being a serial killer.
Okay, Beth, deep breath.
Don’t be weird.
If he acts suspicious, I’ll call Ethan. I pull my phone back out to prep his number…just in case.
I walk back into the living room, hand Matthew his (gross) black coffee, and take a sip of mine. Mmm, perfectly sweet with a faint taste of hazelnut.
“Let me start over. I’m Matthew Wilkes, pro golfer.” He holds his hand out to me.
I put my hand in his. It’s warm and callused, which I didn’t notice the first time.
“Beth Mitchell, soon-to-be Brand Manager.”
“Well, I—my agent—has an idea. Two, actually…Would you rather the good or the potentially ludicrous idea first?”
“Let’s go with the safe, good option.”
“I can do that. So, I need to create my brand. A brand that will show the fans a glimpse—and I mean a small, tiny insight—into my personal life. I need to show them who Matthew Wilkes is and attract sponsors and brands who will partner with me. At least that’s what my agent is telling me.”
Score! Maybe making a complete fool of myself in the coffee shop wasn’t a total loss. I could start my own business after all, even if I have to find another job while I grow it, but at least I’ll have something now. Things are looking up!
“I just finished school and an internship doing that. I worked with small businesses and influencers and walked them through how to monetize themselves. So that’s right up my alley. And as it so happens, I’m looking for clients.”
“But I like my privacy. Will you be able to attain the public image without sharing every second of my life?”
“Absolutely! We’ll have an initial meeting about what is and isn’t on the table to share. I’ll create a plan based on that. I can help create content and run your socials for you. We can—”
He holds up his hand. “Before you go too much into it, there’s the second part…”
“Right…the ludicrous idea.” I nod. “Okay, shoot.”
I mean how crazy could it be? That post I was reading stated he had some tournaments coming up. I’ll probably have to travel a little bit, totally fine. That actually sounds more than fine, a little fun actually.
He rises to his feet and begins pacing back and forth behind the couch. His brows are knitted together, and it looks like he’s trying to solve an unsolvable problem.
“I need you to be my…girlfriend.”
“Your what?”
He pauses and looks straight at me. “Girlfriend?” he says hesitantly. “Fake girlfriend. We run with this rumor. You and I fake date. We stage photos, go to events together like a real couple.”
“We’d pretend to be in a relationship?”
“It was my agent’s idea. This rumor has blown up. My few small sponsors like that the attention I’m getting also means they’re being seen.”
“So I would be your fake girlfriend and brand manager?”
“Yes, and I’d pay you, of course.”
We’ve all heard about celebrities “dating” other people for public relations or to attract a certain brand. So, not a completely out of the ballpark idea. I just never thought I would be involved in one. But I’d also get to do what I love and got my degree in—I’d have a big girl job.
Can I pretend to be someone’s girlfriend, though?
He continues pacing. “I knew this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come. You probably already have a boyfriend, I mean, how could you not?” He starts heading for the door. “Beth, it was nice to meet you and—”
“I’m single,” I blurt, heart racing. “I’ll do it.”
What am I saying?
He quickly turns around. “You will?”
“I’m in.”